I'M AN AFRICAN FIRST DAUGHTER, BUT I AM NOT A RETIREMENT PLAN

By Dr. Dédé Teteh-Brooks

I moved to New York City when I was eight years old. My little brother, two years younger than I, had travelled earlier with my mother to visit my father. I was left behind, I later learned, to focus on my early education studies.

"We had things in common: the desire and strong will to make this place home, to  achieve the success of coming to America, to “make something of ourselves” and, of course, send money to family back home."

Education has always been an important part of my upbringing. It was important to both me and my parents. When I was left behind for this purpose, I understood and was appreciative of the support. Still, I felt uneasy about their actions. Now, in New York, the family was back together again under one roof, this time without my older brother, who would later join us. This roof was different from our home in Togo…  colder, and people spoke differently. They spoke English, a language I was forced to learn to go to school and communicate with my new neighbors in this  new “land of the free.” What I remember fondly during these early years was that  everyone around me was an immigrant, not just from the continent but from all over the globe. We had things in common: the desire and strong will to make this place home, to achieve the success of coming to America, to “make something of ourselves” and, of course, send money to family back home.

"I was the built-in babysitter, nurse assistant, the cleaning lady, sometimes cook, and whatever else was needed to support the family."

After all these years, my siblings and I have a close relationship. I forged the strongest bond with my little brother, who bore the burden of navigating this new world with me. We had to care for each other while my mom and dad worked. I think this is where some of my parents’ responsibilities began to fall on my shoulders.

My and my sibling Tetevi, in the United States

Though I was not the oldest, I was the oldest daughter, and in America, I had to support my parents the best way I could while they provided for us. This sometimes included navigating the academic environment and translating that information to my parents. I was the built-in babysitter, nurse assistant, the cleaning lady, sometimes cook, and whatever else was needed to support the family. My name, Dédé, indicates that I am an offspring of the Ga-Adangbe tribe. The name means “first daughter,” the first daughter born to my mother and father in Lomé, Togo. The title of being “first” often means the responsibility of the family also falls squarely on your shoulders—whether you accept it or not.

"My name, Dédé, indicates that I am an offspring of the Ga-Adangbe tribe. The name means “first daughter,” the first daughter born to my mother and father in Lomé, Togo."

The impact of being “first” was mirrored in the responsibilities of caring for the family in the US.   Here,  our home was often the docking station for friends and family transitioning to the US or vacationing. Everyone was welcomed, fed, housed, and supported, whether they were simply enjoying the tourist attractions that our state had to offer, or navigating their transition to independence in America.  For those back home,  financial support was instrumental to supporting daily life activities. I saw the sacrifices. I saw the burdens. I saw the imposed expectations. And I also saw love.

Now,  it is my turn. I too have grown out of my childhood home to create my own family.  I am struggling. I am now grappling with the adult responsibilities of being the “first,” the dictation of my finances and how my dollar is spent. I am grappling with spending decades in school, training to land my “adult” job, only to have to figure out how to  not only care for my immediate family, but for extended family back home. Regardless of the struggles I am grappling with, it’s not in my DNA to abandon my parents to suffer.  I don't, however, want to suffer for my parents to live. Is this selfish of me? 

"I saw the sacrifices. I saw the burdens. I saw the imposed expectations. And I also saw love."

If we ask the Biblical text on how to honor our parents, Ephesians 6: 1-3 New Living Translation dictates:“Children, obey your parents because you belong to the Lord, for this is the right thing to do. “Honor your father and mother.” This is the first commandment with a promise:  If you honor your father and mother, “things will go well for you, and you will have a long life on the earth.”

Any child growing up in a “God fearing” household has heard these scriptures more than once. Especially during times when one chooses to disobey their  parents for one reason or another, and finds themselves reminded of the holy text. This verse, however, is not only about   children’s attitude towards parents. It also instructs parents on how to behave towards their children.  If we continue to the 4^th verse:“Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger by the way you treat them. Rather, bring them up with the discipline and instruction that comes from the Lord.”

While I am focusing on one book, there are several examples throughout scripture that reflect children and parental relationships. All of which are flawed and deeply rooted in our finite human aptitude. In essence, we take pieces of scripture that fits our agenda.

These instructions are often used especially by African parents to demand submission to  their desires. I’ve been indoctrinated by my cultural upbringing— rooted in Christian religiosity— that what parents ask of me, I must obey, because that is how my days will be lengthened. The fear of not obeying this doctrine is not only consequential to my longevity but potentially crippling my own relationship with my eternal father. How did I get here?

A couple of years ago I had a conversation with a family member on this topic of responsibility.  “She is your mother, and you must take care of her.” I don’t disagree. As I’ve shared, it's written in my DNA. As I’ve also shared, I’ve been indoctrinated to care for my parents. But in a room where I am seeking advice for my conflict, the cultural politics of caring for family trumps anything that I may  be struggling with. My responsibility, especially as the first, is to care for others, before me, after me. Many of my male siblings were also present during that conversation. I can’t remember if they contributed, and I constantly wonder if they feel the same. I also wonder if they feel this  weight of responsibility to care for everyone else that comes before and after them. Now, I could go there and say the responsibilities of the male and females in our culture are not equal. The expectations are also not equitable, but I digress. While I embrace my responsibility as the first daughter, I am mindful that I am not a retirement plan!

"Regardless of the struggles I am grappling with, it’s not in my DNA to abandon my parents to suffer.  I don't, however, want to suffer for my parents to live. Is this selfish of me?" 

At this season of my life, I’ve resolved to prioritize my peace. Traditions and mindsets of others are outside my control. What remains in my control is me and how I choose to show up in the world and for my family. Therapy has been a saving  grace for my journey. Developing a budget that includes extended family expenses has also been a practice of sanity. I have also learned that when monetary  requests come to my attention or slide into a DM, I can consider them without having to act immediately. If I am not able to support, I am no longer guilted into responding, knowing it will cause me hardship once the dust settles. This main practice of self-respect is what boundaries are. To care for oneself is to put your own mask on before helping others. I’ve also learned to care for myself by saying “no” as a complete sentence. More importantly, it's a “no” without explanation. None of this works, however, without the ability to know when to  fold  and ask for help. We are not meant to do life on our own. I am grateful for the support of siblings when available, but I am also grateful for the support of my chosen family: the ones who love me despite not sharing a blood heritage.

"While I embrace my responsibility as the first daughter, I am mindful that I am not a retirement plan!"

Trevor Noah writes in his autobiography that, “If you give a man a fish, they will eat for a day. Teach a man to fish, they will eat for a lifetime. And it would be nice if you gave him a fishing rod.”

If we become willing to learn a skill or a craft that can be supported by those abroad, wouldn’t that be a more sustainable request than asking for a fish to eat for a day? Or better yet, request a “rod” and/or the tools to use said rod that may support you for longer than a day! We are African. Life began on our continent. We have the resources, the will, and the tenacity to survive. Let’s use these talents to grow together instead of relying on our children to shit gold at the end of an elusive rainbow.  

Dr. Dédé K. Teteh-Brooks is a public health professional with extensive experience across research, academia, policy, and strategic communications, grounded in her work with the CDC and her commitment to community-centered health. With an MPH and DrPH in Health Education, she now serves as an assistant professor at UT MD Anderson Cancer Center, focusing on sustainable public health infrastructure and improving outcomes for underserved populations.