Being the oldest of the family, I was always the designated as the chosen one to set the example for my siblings. I was never asked if I wanted this role and responsibility. I did not have a choice.
So, I took the torch of being the eldest and ran with it. I pleaded and argued with my parents to lead a normal life—a normal American life. This task is not easy, especially when you have traditional parents like mine.
Although my parents never finished their education, this option was never in their children’s future. School was a priority. So, of course, Martha being the eldest, paved the way.
Grades were never a problem, thanks to my mother’s high expectations and constant reminders to finish my homework. Although Chely, my younger sister, often came home upset after dealing with teachers and comments like, “So you’re Martha’s little sister. I bet you’re as smart as her,” she did well in school.
And so began the cycle. Now the youngest two are dealing with the accomplishments of their predecessors and setting new accomplishments of their own.
But academia was not the only place where the eldest had to set the standard.
During my freshman year in high school, the hotel where my dad works hosted the senior prom. Due to my good fortune, my father worked that night. The next morning, he made it very clear that I was never going to prom—he was not very impressed with the couples making out in the lounge chairs.
So, when I was asked to prom, the initial answer was no. But I pleaded and argued that my parents needed to trust me, until my dad said yes, making it very clear that any financial obligations were my problem. After finding out how much prom was going to cost, I got a job.
Here again, I paved the way. Two years later, when my sister wanted to go to prom, she did not have to argue the irresistible and convincing plea that I had so meticulously organized only two years before. All she said was “Martha went to prom,” and that was it.
But it did not stop there. She, too, needed to work to pay for the expenses. That year I left for college, and left her as my replacement at my job. I cracked the door open and she walked through.
I was the one who had to deal with my parents’ boy policies. Time and time again, I argued the relentless point “but, my friends can go out and come home late,” when the dating and curfew debate began. I took the stand and did not crumble.
Sure, I had to lug a sibling on dates for the first two years of my relationship, but my parents caved in—just a little.
I cracked the door open a little more, a victory my younger sister now thrives on. Where I had to take a younger sibling for two years on dates, Chely dealt with the imposition for two months.
I am tired of being the predecessor. I am bitter about cracking the door only for others to walk through. But that is the price you pay when you are the eldest. And now, I am facing the biggest challenge of all—the driver’s license.
This is a feat I have yet to tackle. I am on my second driving permit, and still terrified of driving. I am destined to be the second driver in the family, a role I have had a taste of and do not like.
Once again, I will have to struggle to set precedents, even though I am now fighting everyone else who wants me to walk this path.
When I go home my mom tells me of the impotence she feels because she does not know how to drive. Others argue about the freedom one gains with being independent. Some remind me of the necessity of driving in today’s society.
To excuse this fear of driving, I have added a protest of always setting precedents and the reluctance to accept my destiny as the family taxi cab.
I think I deserve a few more months of being chauffeured around. I accept the role of setting precedents. Being the eldest, my time will come.
