The Facebook group’s banner is tongue-in-cheek.
“[You] think [you] can hurt me?” it reads. “I’m the eldest daughter in an Asian family.”
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In the Philippines and beyond, eldest daughters are often expected to take care of their families – but who takes care of them? Turning to the internet, some have found comfort, community, and resilience among strangers.
But for roughly 7,400 members, the “Eldest Daughter in an Asian Household Club” is no joke. It’s the only online community dedicated specifically to Filipino átes, or eldest daughters, who face unique societal and family pressures.
Sociologists say that globally, eldest daughters take on more domestic responsibilities than their younger or male counterparts, and as adults, many experience resentment, anxiety, and trouble setting boundaries. Today, átes “are not only expected to be excellent outside the home, as a career woman and breadwinner, [they’re] also expected to be excellent inside the home,” says Adrienne Cacatian from the University of the Philippines Diliman.
Yet with greater awareness of “eldest daughter syndrome,” as it’s been termed on social media, comes more opportunities for support.
In the “Eldest Daughter” club, there is no shame in sharing that you’re tired, and no risk of alienating your siblings or being dismissed; átes can seek advice, commiserate, or simply vent.
“It’s a safe space,” says moderator Elaina Duarte-Santos.
It was 2021. Rich Orbeta had been her family’s rock since her father left them years before – taking care of the housework, finances, and overall well-being of her three younger siblings – and she was having doubts then about her chosen career in medicine. Like many átes – “eldest daughters” in Filipino – she felt she had nowhere to turn for support.
“I’m the eldest,” says Ms. Orbeta, in a mix of English and Filipino. “I have to figure things out on my own.”
But then she stumbled across a nascent Facebook group full of átes just like her. Fingers tense, she began to type, describing her fears. The ensuing flurry of support caught her off guard.
Why We Wrote This
A story focused on
In the Philippines and beyond, eldest daughters are often expected to take care of their families – but who takes care of them? Turning to the internet, some have found comfort, community, and resilience among strangers.
“Best of luck on your board exams!” commented one member.
“You might not see it yet, but I hope there comes a time that you’ll see your sacrifices were worth it,” wrote another.
Even today, those messages comfort the physician from southern Luzon. “There’s just something about people you don’t know personally rooting for you,” she says.
The “Eldest Daughter in an Asian Household Club” has since ballooned to some 7,400 members, almost all Filipino átes struggling with “eldest daughter syndrome,” as it’s been termed on social media. Across Asia and around the world, eldest daughters say they face unique social and family pressures, and take on more domestic responsibilities than their younger or male counterparts. As adults, many experience feelings of resentment, anxiety, and trouble setting boundaries. But this “syndrome” is also shaped by the country and culture in which an eldest daughter is raised.
Filipino sociologists say átes’ experiences have roots in the Philippines’ history of colonization, first by the Spanish, and later by Japan and the United States.
“In those three times, there have been different gendered expectations,” says Adrienne Cacatian, a sociology instructor at the University of the Philippines Diliman. “Now, [átes] are not only expected to be excellent outside the home, as a career woman and breadwinner, [they’re] also expected to be excellent inside the home.”
Cacatian, an áte themself, welcomes the uptick in online discourse about the eldest daughter experience, which they credit to people “being more critical and engaged about the role of gender and how families are structured in society.”
And with greater awareness, comes more opportunities for support.
Finding a safe space
Created in 2021, the “Eldest Daughter in an Asian Household Club” greets members with a tongue-in-cheek banner photo of a message on the social platform now known as X, reading “[You] think [you] can hurt me? I’m the eldest daughter in an Asian family.”
While the internet is rich with similar sites – including a popular subreddit for Filipino firstborns and an Instagram account called “Eldest Daughter Club” with more than 200,000 followers – this is the only online resource catering specifically to eldest daughters in the Philippines.
Moderator Elaina Duarte-Santos says “it’s a safe space.”
She first learned of the group three years ago, amid COVID-19 lockdowns. She was searching for human connection and a way to blow off steam.
The school teacher and financial adviser has acted as co-parent of her three siblings ever since her parents separated, providing financial and emotional support to her family. It is draining, and “they keep rejecting the idea that I’m tired,” she says with a nervous laugh.
The “Eldest Daughter” group soon became her go-to spot to vent, commiserate, and seek advice. It was also a source of strength when she went through a miscarriage in 2022.
“The people in the group became a sort of support system for me, just by talking to each other and sharing their experiences,” she says in Filipino. Knowing what other átes were going through helped her not dwell on her loss, she adds.
Maro B. Enriquez
Pressure to be “perfect”
A major facet of “eldest daughter syndrome” is expectations around domestic labor, which shape women’s lives from childhood. Globally, girls ages 5-14 “spend 160 million more hours every day on unpaid care and domestic work than boys of the same age,” UNICEF reports.
“At a very young age, taking responsibility for the family is already skewed towards a particular gender,” says Cacatian. And in their paper “Filipino, Firstborn, Female: Filipino Eldest Daughters as an Invisibilized Women’s Sector,” Cacatian argues that átes also act as a family’s representative in society, a reflection of their values and status. This leads to immense pressure to be high achievers and to appear “perfect,” they write.
“The bad thing, as with anything, is the matter of choice,” says Rowena Laguilles-Timog, a women’s studies scholar at the University of the Philippines. “Perhaps some women are OK with it, and they like it. There are perks that come with [this role]. But I’m sure many more feel trapped.”
Ms. Duarte-Santos says that perhaps if she wasn’t the firstborn, “I could save up; I’d be wealthy by now.”
Ms. Orbeta, the physician, says she loves her family – but some days, she would rather be stuck at work than be the one doing chores at home. Still, she doesn’t want to harbor resentment.
“I’d rather not internalize it. [My siblings] did not choose my birth order, nor give me these responsibilities,” she says.
Instead, she airs her frustrations in the “Eldest Daughter” group, which gets about three to five membership requests a day.
While the group doesn’t replace real-world relationships, Samuel Cabbuag, a digital sociologist, says it highlights one of the best parts of the internet: access to community. “You just need to go to your phone, and you can already have someone to discuss things that are particularly sensitive,” he says.
Had this sort of community existed when she was younger, Ms. Orbeta believes she would have felt less alone.
“There’s a certain power to a physical hug,” she says. “But online, you can be more vulnerable, especially with the anonymous feature. … For now, I prefer to keep it online.”