Firstborn

Photo from here

I was re-informed by a friend the other day that oldest children are a bit of a necessary evil (my words, not hers). Perhaps we are evil without meaning to be. But we are necessary, because someone has to be the firstborn, even if just to enable a secondborn to point out that the firstborn is being bossy, critical, overbearing, manipulative, power-mad, selfish and... well... evil. I have heard epithets about firstborns before, and mentally tossed them aside because I don't much appreciate being maligned by stereotype and by virtue of something I have no power to change. I am an oldest child. I can't change that. Must I believe I am also inherently a burden to a younger sibling simply by dint of birth order? Well, there are clues. It has astonished and discouraged me is to hear occasional resentment expressed from younger-born adults towards their firstborn siblings. Clearly there is some pain felt and chalked up to the realities of birth order.

As we talked about it, my friend's comments started to make more sense to me. While I can't be held responsible for the dynamic, I suppose I am responsible--if I want to understand people's reactions--for understanding the effects of birth order on the lives of young siblings. I'm being confronted by the fact that as a firstborn I have always been perceived to possess more power, and power threatens, and therefore is seen as evil, and therefore...Voila! So am I. Perceptions are a reality of sorts, particularly to a second or third sibling who is both looking up to and feeling commanded by the oldest.

As a firstborn who emerged with a forthright and transparent personality, I tend to sashay through life "saying it like it is," feeling justified in commenting from my own reality if I think someone or something is out of line, or if I perceive injustice is being done. Someone needs to lead, right? Someone needs to name the rules, to say it like it is. Someone needs to float useful ideas for solving problems, and to stop people from dilly-dallying around and perseverating. If a younger leader would step up and lead, then I'd be happy to follow. [Maybe.] But the second- and third-borns don't, and I'm quick enough to fill the vacuum. 

What I haven't done so well at understanding, is that the younger borns hear authority in my tone of voice even if I'm just trying on an idea for size. My words and opinions carry more weight than I invest in them. After all I'm older and therefore responsible to be a guardian and dispenser of Truth, right? Younger children look to older children to tell them what the world is like and how to negotiate it. Comments are heard as truth-dealing pronouncements (or boldfaced lies, for you disenchanted younger siblings). Careless remarks from a firstborn are experienced as cutting, while a youngest child is tolerated to fling them around here and there, willy-nilly, with less import. Firstborns are supposed to be more grownup than the younger ones. I have not heard a younger sibling acknowledge that their big sister or big brother, too, needs the opportunity to grow up, to change, to become a better person.

I'm not sure where this is going. It wasn't meant to be whiny, just to acknowledge the dynamic from the point of view of a sometimes-beleaguered oldest child. Our culture is about protecting, supporting and cheering the underdog, and the firstborn rarely gets to be that. On the other hand, I'm starting to recognize the power and influence wielded by the firstborn, and how we who hold that power can miss that because of its invisibility. It's a dangerous weapon if disregarded. The word "gentleness" comes to mind as a requisite for being a more appreciated firstborn. Gentleness is always the tool that the a powerful person must learn to grasp and use. 

Easier said than done, my friends. I'm trying this idea on for size, pondering it. So don't hear it as a truth-dealing pronouncement just yet, even if it's kinda getting there. I'm still growing up.