Each family member has one who remembers everything.
She keeps track of birthdays that aren’t recorded anywhere else. She sees the moment when they start talking and knows that they are going to argue. She knows who isn’t going to say a word to whom, who is not doing well but hiding it, who is making up a face when they are not feeling well. She takes all the tension before it explodes; she calms things down before they get too tense, and she reads the emotions that others haven’t been able to communicate.
That person – it’s usually the daughter.
Not because women are somehow more emotional, nurturing, or patient; it’s more of a training thing that perpetuates continuous, subtle, almost invisible training of girls to be emotional infrastructure. They are brought up like that in that home, with the mother’s influence used to control the atmosphere of the home. They assume responsibility for taking care of things before they’re adults.
The daughter tax – how the family is supposed to use a girl’s emotions when she is just a family member.
Emotional labour, on the other hand, doesn’t necessarily make itself known. It’s secret and buried in the normal actions. Contacting family members after conflicts. Hearing others’ complaints, but not talking about his/her own. Aiding in an attempt to resolve conflictual relationships with angry parents. Being “understanding.” Being mentally relaxed in the face of adverse circumstances. An attitude of swallowing feelings of resentment to maintain peace. Practising gratitude despite being very tired.
The daughter takes the place of therapist, mediator, translator, caretaker, and memory-keeper, with no pay, no recognition, and no rest. This invisible labour is also often mistaken by families for personality.
“She’s just mature.”
“She’s naturally caring.”
“She understands everyone.”
However, a prematurely matured college is frequently the survival of the “polite” species.
Daughters are brought up to be more emotionally responsible in many families in South Asia, particularly. The authority is passed on to the son; the emotional maintenance is only for the daughter. They learn to watch for moods, appease temperamental outbursts, stay out of trouble, and maintain good family relations at any cost. A ‘good daughter’ is not only a dutiful child but also emotionally available at any time.
Even her love is a work. Even her love is labour.
When conflicts arise, she has to call it first since “girls should keep relationships together.” She has to be able to forgive older family members – respect is important. She has to deal with the ups and downs of emotions since “family is family”. Many people don’t see her as being tired; they see her as being crazy. It is understood as a lack of respect, selfishness, distance, and/or attitude. Unfortunately, daughters take this role to heart and don’t realise that it’s unfair to them.
A lot of women come to believe, over the course of their lives, that they are valuable only to the extent that they are useful. When they are not required, they feel guilty. They know they’re being cruel if they set boundaries. When they are preoccupied with themselves, they fear losing love. A process of emotional conditioning unfolds over the years, and self-erasure becomes acceptable. This burden remains on women long after their kids.
The kid who conspired to control everyone’s feelings is the woman who apologises too much in relationships, goes the extra mile at work, and feels responsible for everyone around her. She grows up already tired and burdened by generations of emotional labour carried within her. Yet such a sacrifice is still being romanticised in society.
We admire daughters as the “glue” of family and don’t ask ourselves why families need glue. We say how wonderful daughters are because they are the “glue” of the family, but we don’t ask ourselves why families need glue. The demand for strength is further added to. Another expectation is added: strength. It’s a woman who’s holding everything together who’s admired, because no one asks herself, “What’s this woman holding herself up for doing that in her mind?
It’s very cruel to give women credit for being able to take it like a pro.
Silence is also the mode of the daughter tax. Females are rarely explicitly tasked with emotional labour by families. Little or no formal discussion takes place. Rather, girls absorb expectations by observing. They observe mothers and how they calm down angry fathers. They observe ladies saying sorry to keep the peace. They see who is serving tea to the people when they’re having an argument, who’s not even touching it, and they’re aware of that. Emotional delegation is another way that patriarchy can persist – besides control.
And daughters pay a price in uncountable ways.
Others become unable to show vulnerability because they’ve spent their lives suppressing others’ vulnerability. The need for help is a shameful situation, which leads some to become hyper-independent. Others suffer from burnout until it appears as though they’re numb. Quietly, inside, they’re collapsing; they continue to function, smiling, caring.
A big part of this work is done with a loving heart, and that’s what makes it so painful. Sisters can be very devoted to their families. What isn’t the issue is care; it’s expectation. Love that becomes an obligation ends in voluntary service. Any daughter should be given the freedom to live in a family without having to run it day and night.
She needs to allow herself to let people down without feeling guilty about it. She ought to get rest without having to acquire rest first. When she doesn’t give, she should still be loved, not just for what she gives emotionally.
However, many daughters learn to believe that they have to earn love and affection by being useful. They continue to give and give!
They are the first person everyone calls in a crisis and the last person they ask, “Who takes care of you?” Maybe it’s the greatest form of loneliness — to be sought out for emotional sustenance and be emotionally undone or unnoticed.
The daughter tax is not levied or paid one time. It is gathered consistently: in swelled-up rage, swallowed and unheard frustration, in muted truths, in years of burdened emotional lives, no one could bear. And yet, daughters are expected to have love in their voice when they call home and as though love shouldn’t sound tired.