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Girl, girl – and the baby of the family

  • lisaluger
  • Feb 11, 2021
  • 16 min read

Updated: Jul 16, 2023

Family hierarchy

DE: One day in summer, when I was still a kindergarten child, I decided not to announce my early return from kindergarten by ringing the front doorbell, but to surprise my mother. I climbed over the garden fence behind the house and crept across the terrace. I wanted to knock on the dining room window, where I suspected my mother was ironing, and grin triumphantly when she looked up from her work and wondered why I was home already. But my view through the window revealed a very different scenario. My mother was sitting alone at the table, crying. Concerned, I quietly retreated, went to the front door and rang the bell as usual. I was a little apprehensive, expecting a tearful mother. But far from it! The door was opened by my smiling mother, who was her normal self. There was no trace of tears or sadness, anger or despair.

,I was shocked because I felt deceived. But instinctively, I also knew that it would have been unwelcome to bring up the secret observation. Obviously, she was hiding something from me. Why? I couldn’t understand, and it hurt.


But today, of course, I also ask myself why I reacted so shocked and so shy at the same time. Little children like to comfort if you let them. Was it because I was the youngest in the family? Was it because they didn’t trust me and wanted to protect me? Would my big sister or my two big brothers have reacted differently? I don’t know, because even between the four of us children there were issues that were never addressed, especially about our parents.

One of four

On the other hand, we stuck together like peas in a pod and formed a small combative front when it came to pushing through wishes and lifting bans. We never betrayed one another, not even when it came to wicked pranks.

My siblings and me (2nd from the left)
My siblings and me (2nd from the left)

I am the youngest of four siblings (two brothers and one sister). I can’t say whether it was good or bad to grow up with siblings because I didn’t know it any other way. Classmates who grew up as only children often envied me. Sometimes I was tired of my siblings and would have liked to lend them out by the hour just to see how it was to live as an only child because it wasn’t always easy being one of four.

One of the disadvantages of having siblings was that we always had to divide everything by four. There was often not much left, especially since the amount to be divided was not too large in the first place. As an accountant, my father had a regular but not lavish income, and as a housewife, my mother did her best to provide for the large family with little money. In such a situation, sharing was fine art, that we children were also taught. This is not to say that each of us didn’t have dreams of a land of milk and honey that we didn’t have to share.

Christmas 1956: Something small but special for everyone
Christmas 1956: Something small but special for everyone

I still can remember buying a bar of chocolate from my first salary as a bank clerk when I was 15. For the first time, I didn’t have to share – and I ate it all by myself. That was a treat! But, my goodness, was I sick afterwards! It was obviously too much of a good thing as I wasn’t used to eating such large quantities of chocolate all on my own.


The joys and sorrows of being the baby of the family

My siblings say that I’m the spoiled little one. Okay, in some ways that can be true. My older siblings had already had many “battles of freedom” with my parents, paving the way for me. How old do you have to be to be allowed to go out with friends until 8 pm or 10 pm and then until midnight? These are questions of tremendous importance for young people. By the time it was my turn, these questions had already been sorted. My parents didn’t want to have the same discussions again. They were already tired and used to such arguments, so they reacted more calmly. But of course, times had changed in the meantime. In 1969, when I was at the peak of my puberty, there was a different wind blowing through society. I wanted my freedom and the spirit of the times supported me far more than it had done for my older siblings.

The big ones can do everything better
The big ones can do everything better

On the other hand, as the youngest, it was difficult to discover my abilities and find my own way. The fact that, as the youngest, I always had to wear the discarded clothes and shoes of my siblings was something I could get over in retrospect. But the fact that you were always the fool because the older ones walked faster, read and wrote better, and knew much more generally was discouraging. They had an experience. At the same time, they were given responsibilities, such as looking after me, much to their dismay. I could never catch up or compensate on that level. Three intelligent and academically successful siblings can be quite intimidating, and I somehow also felt that my parents had run out of ideas when it came to my education. I kind of ran along with it.

The little one really big

But I had my moments. Once, when I was on my way home from the parish library with my brother, who was two years older than me, a few of his classmates got in our way. The atmosphere was hostile because my brother, at the top of the class, was exposed to the resentment of his less successful classmates. Obviously, they wanted to teach him a lesson by force, literally. My eight-year-old brother was paralysed holding his six-year-old sister’s hand. He was in shock and unable to defend himself or me. I, on the other hand, was totally upset by this unspeakable meanness towards my dear brother, and with clenched fists, I stood in front of him and shouted at the attackers to clear off immediately, or else….. The surprised guys were so flustered by that little girl that they looked at each other indecisively, finally shrugged their shoulders and trudged off without having achieved anything. My goodness, I was relieved, because actually, I was just as surprised about my action as was my brother. We went home quietly and never spoke about it again.


Here with my brother at a religious celebration in my home town
Here with my brother at a religious celebration in my home town

In retrospect, my dislike of injustice and unfairness was probably already evident at this early age, as well as the strength and presence I could develop in the fight against it.


As my later career path showed, this was to become my destiny.


I have rarely raised my fists in all these years, but I have found other viable and more promising ways to make law and justice prevail.







Girls and boys are never equal, are they?

The unequal treatment of girls and boys within society and also within our family was an injustice, but back then, I did not perceive it that way for a long time. My sister and I never questioned the unequal treatment.

My two brothers were the intelligent ones in the family. They were sent to a grammar school, the same humanistic episcopal boys’ seminary where my father had been.

With my siblings on the last tram in my hometown, the day before it closed down in 1961
With my siblings on the last tram in my hometown, the day before it closed down in 1961

At that time, girls were generally considered not so intelligent. Only my sister’s primary school teacher recognised that she was very clever and recommended to my father that she be sent to a grammar school. She was at the top of her class. However, a neighbour, a grammar school teacher and therefore a professional authority, unsettled my father by arguing that girls didn’t need a higher school leaving certificate because they would marry soon anyway. As a result, my father took my sister out of grammar school after three years and put her into an apprenticeship with a tax consultant. My sister did as she was told and swallowed the bitter pill. But I often think that she never forgave my father.

I wasn’t sent to grammar school but instead was sent to a convent school for girls to get my intermediate school-leaving certificate. There we received a good general education and were raised to become good wives, mothers and housewives who could support their husbands in every way. Our ambition was spurred on by the declaration that behind every great man was a great woman. What a perspective!

My mother had never been to a higher school, and she was at peace with that. She consoled us, girls, in a somewhat questionable way by always emphasising that even if the boys were the intelligent ones, we girls were practical-minded instead.

Girls: the practical ones
Girls: the practical ones

Because of this attitude and because we girls had to be prepared for household management, our household tasks were much heavier than those of our brothers.


This bothered me, and I argued that the sporadic and seasonal duties of my brothers could not be compared to the everlasting chores of us girls. After all, shovelling snow or fetching coal from the cellar only occurred in winter. We girls, on the other hand, had our jobs to do all year round.

Our chores were: cleaning the bathroom and toilet on a weekly basis, helping daily with the cooking, washing up and drying dishes, taking out the rubbish bins, dusting etc. My sister and I sweetened the cleaning hours by singing loudly together.

But I was most annoyed when I had to clean everyone’s shoes on Saturday afternoons. Luckily that stopped when my brothers went to the seminary. There they learned to shine their own shoes, and when they came home, fortunately, they kept to this custom.


However, I have to say, whenever my bicycle had a puncture, there was always one of my brothers around to repair it. I was very pleased about that.





Questionable privileges for the boys

The boys: the bright ones
The boys: the bright ones

From the age of 10, my brothers were placed in a boarding school, the Episcopal Boys’ Seminary, to advance their intellectual, but above all spiritual, education to the highest degree.

The seminary was only 40 km from our home, but they were only allowed to come home during the holidays. Whether they suffered from not being at home with us I don’t know, but I did miss my brothers very much.

Sometimes my mother and I went there by train to visit them. We brought lots of food with us. My mother also regularly sent parcels that provided my brothers with durable food, laundry and other useful things. I was so happy when I could see them. Even when my eldest brother was sent home because he had chickenpox, I fell around his neck in joy, regardless of the risk of infection. I didn’t wish it on him, and I was honestly sorry, but I was still glad when he broke his arm the following year because that led him to stay longer at home with us.

The unequal treatment in no way led to dislike and ill will on the part of us sisters towards our much more esteemed brothers. The allocation of rooms in our house, for example, was accepted without reservation. Although my brothers were mostly at boarding school for several years and not at home (except during holidays), they were allowed to keep the large bright and sunny room with a balcony and a view over the city. We girls, on the other hand, shared a small dark room with a window facing the street and the north. Only recently, my brother asked me if we girls weren’t annoyed that we weren’t allowed to use the nice room. No, not at all. That was a fact of life, and we never questioned it. We also never questioned the supposed preferential treatment of our brothers. Today that is incomprehensible to me. But at that time, that was just the way it was. No one was bothered by it – that came much later. I also didn’t think about whether my brothers had to pay too high a price for this preferential treatment – namely boarding school, separation from family and friends, and so on. That was just the way it was. You had to accept what your parents thought was best, even gratefully accepting it, and you made the best of it.

Different parent-child relationships

Of course, we also competed with each other for our parents’ attention. I think each of us will have a different opinion about that now. Our mother did not let on whether she liked one of her children more than others. For her, her children were all equal.


My father, however, had a clear favourite. That was my middle brother, the third in the gang and two years older than me. The reason was that he was born just when things were looking up for my father financially and existentially. After three years of unemployment, he won his case at the labour court and was compensated for his illegal dismissal and he found a better job in another city. The compensation served as the foundation for a house of our own, which we were able to move into and were full of hope. So, for my father, this child represented the beginning of better times after several years of hardship and restrictions. Besides, my father had every reason to be proud of his son’s particularly good school performance. For him, he was simply a lucky charm.


My older sister, on the other hand, was stubborn and didn’t put up with everything. She frequently contradicted my father. That took courage. Although he didn’t like it, he seemed to respect her for it.

My eldest brother and I were the shy ones who didn’t dare stand up to our authoritarian father. We avoided confrontation if possible and learned to do what we wanted to do without asking. Our strategy was rather to avoid our father having us on his radar.

Of course, we would often have preferred to have our father’s approval and attention, but these differences in paternal affection were so ingrained and unquestioned at a young age. However, they did not at all detract from our affection for each other. After all, we knew our father, and that was just the way it was.


Yes, I can say that I had hoped for recognition from my father all my life. However, no matter how much I achieved, for example, a doctorate, my father was not impressed. Instead, puzzled, he asked the question, “What is she doing that for?” It was obviously not possible for him to recognise in girls what he found worthy of recognition in boys.

My mother, on the other hand, recognised my achievements and supported me where and how she could. She stood behind me at all times, as she did with my brothers and sisters. She was not offensive towards my father. From her, my eldest brother and I may have learnt our strategy of dealing with our authoritarian father by not contradicting him but silently doing what we wanted. Interestingly, my mother’s approval didn’t seem to be as important to me as my father’s. Why was that? Was it because I was so much like her or because my father had never really respected her either? My mother was simply there – as a matter of course, she was always there whenever we needed her. Today, however, I know that she was very important to me. I just wasn’t aware of it at the time.

Find your place – find your way!

To what extent does the role you play within the family shape you? Science has developed several models for this. But everyone has to recognise their individual experiences and see through the goals and strategies that have developed from them.

For me, at any rate, despite my attachment to my siblings, I instinctively felt that I had to separate myself and find my niche to make my way.

,

My two brothers were recognised as the bright ones. They were encouraged to pass their A-levels and go on to study. My big sister, too, was an excellent student. Also, she showed great talent in handicrafts, which was in line with our mother’s view that we girls were gifted with practical skills. I was neither one nor the other. My grades were supposedly rather mediocre, with my worst grade once being a C grade. Probably the family standards were set very high.

But what really made a world of difference was my total lack of talent for needlework. I was a failure at it, much to the displeasure of the needlework teacher, who frowned at my sweaty knitting and praised the glorious skills of my sister, who had been in her needlework class six years earlier.


So, where was my place in the family? What was I good at? What was I supposed to do? Somehow, I had to set myself apart from the others and had to do something different. I went ‘wild’. At 16, I bought a Vespa scooter and enjoyed my independence and freedom to go away when and where I wanted. I was out a lot and hung out with friends in pubs. Later, I travelled a lot and as far away as possible. I didn’t want to play the role of a wife and mother that I was meant to play. So I started studying, worked abroad, and wrote my doctoral thesis. Was it all perhaps to prove my independence from the family’s judgement? Whatever the motivation, it still feels right to me even today.

Family hierarchy remains long after childhood

However, what is fascinating to me is that despite my efforts to be different and no matter how far I progressed in my professional career, as soon as I put the key in the front door and entered my parent’s house, I was little Liese again, the youngest. My brothers and sister likewise fell back into the place they had held throughout childhood. Why is that?



Being shaped by the family – empirical

A few years ago, I developed a training course for social workers and nurses in leadership roles at my university in London on the topic of ‘Diversity and Identity’.

One of the assignments for the course participants was to reflect on how their place within their family had affected their life choices, identity and personal and professional development. To their surprise, most discovered certain patterns of behaviour. The participants’ examples revealed fascinating connections.


Those who were the eldest among the siblings talked mainly about responsibility and duties. They had to look after younger siblings, although they would have preferred to play with their friends of the same age. They also took on more household tasks or were consulted by their parents. Some of them thought that this role predestined them to take initiative in adult life, to take on responsibilities and to care for others as well as to take the lead in groups. Some reflected on whether this had been a preparation for the leadership position they now held.


Among the youngest, the former babies of the family, some complained that they had not been taken seriously within the family, that the older siblings had had more to say and that parents had mostly let the older siblings in on upcoming problems and perhaps asked for their advice, while the youngest had been considered too inexperienced or too naive. They were kept in the dark, either because they were not expected to make a useful contribution or to protect them. ‘Being protected’ was considered to be ambivalent in its meaning and effect. Many, however, also acknowledged the advantages of being the youngest. One was pampered by parents, grandparents and siblings. One could observe and learn from the experiences that the older siblings had made.


Middle siblings said they had been under less pressure of responsibility like the elders, but also had not been able to enjoy special favours like the youngest. The majority of them felt that they had not really been noticed, which had both positive and negative sides. On the one hand, it gave them the freedom to develop without being restricted and without constant control. On the other hand, it also meant that their needs were not taken seriously and they tended to suffer from a lack of support.

Those who had grown up as an only child spoke of feelings of loneliness. Not having siblings with whom they could play, argue, bond or talk about problems was felt very negatively. Many experienced a shock at school and later at work or in relationships because they had not learnt to argue or assert themselves. Others suggested that being an only child may have contributed to them being introverted, shy and timid towards others. In contrast, some found that their position as an only child and having the undivided attention of their parents and grandparents had contributed to their self-esteem and confidence, which had been very beneficial in their professional lives. It seems that the attention of adult family members was more important for an only child than it was in families with several children.

How does family hierarchy influence professional development?

The question now is, how did this influence their professional development? What difficulties did they have to overcome, and to what extent did the family’s influence facilitate the performance of a leadership task? In contrast to the eldest siblings, many of whom assumed that their position in the sibling hierarchy prepared them for their leadership role, this was not so easy to ascertain for the youngest, the middle siblings or even for an only child. A variety of answers and assumptions were expressed and discussed. It would go beyond the scope of this article to comment on them in detail. In summary, however, it can be said that the majority of the participants definitely suspected that their place in the sibling hierarchy played an important role in their professional life. Yet beyond that, the family into which one had been born had also been formative, i.e. what values the family lived by, how they communicated amongst each other and the existence, or non-existence, of a family support network. School and youth groups also seemed to have an influence that should not be underestimated.


In my case, I could say that although I have worked in leadership positions, I am not a born charismatic leader who exuded natural authority. I am more task-oriented and work hard to achieve my given goal to earn my leadership position and the trust of my staff. I like to take responsibility, I am an efficient manager, but at the end of the day, I would have appreciated it if there were superiors within an organisation who would additionally approve of my decisions, support me and provide recognition.


Whether this has to do with my position as the family baby or with my rather authoritarian father, from whom I wanted recognition all my life, remains to be seen. Probably both. The four years of education in a convent school that aimed to produce good women able to stand behind good men should not be ignored either.

Cultural differences – unexpected developments

It is a very interesting question of how one’s role within the family hierarchy contributed to an identity formulation and behaviour patterns as an adult. However, biographies are particularly exciting when cultural influences are also involved.

The contribution of a course participant will remain in my memory.

The wife of the fourth son

A social worker from an Indian family introduced herself as the wife of the fourth son of an Indian family. At first, we couldn’t understand this statement, but when asked, she explained that there is a strict hierarchy in Indian families. The first-born son of the family is the most important person after the father, then comes the second son and so on. The lower down the hierarchy, the less influence the sons had. Girls are at the bottom of the hierarchy. Women who marry into an Indian family find themselves in the position of their spouse. The wife of the first son is the main wife, after the father (and mother) and is in a chain of command through her husband. The fourth son hardly plays any role in the family hierarchy and his wife has no say at all.


We were quite enraged by this injustice. But our Indian participant emphasised the advantages her position brought. Although tradition and its associated customs and practices applied to the whole family and certain behaviours were expected, the bottom line was that those family members who ranked lower were subject to less scrutiny. After fulfilling her duty to the family and giving the in-laws two grandchildren, she was somewhat free to do what she wanted, whilst the first and second daughters-in-law had to live a life heavily regimented by the in-laws. She, on the other hand, was able to go back to university, where she studied social work. She now works as the head of a municipal social institution in a very responsible position.

What was it like for you?

The role we have within our families seems to be formative and, in some way, contributes to our identity. It would be interesting to hear more about this from others. As we are all different, we, therefore, also have different experiences and will have experienced our family hierarchy differently. What was it like in your family? What position were you in? In your opinion and experience, did it have any impact on your life at all? And if so, how?

(LL)

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