Growing Up as the Youngest Child From an Immigrant Family

Being the youngest child, I have heard quite a few many stereotypes. We are known to be spoiled, attention-seeking, and even manipulative. Although I can’t confirm if I fit into these stereotypes myself, I do know that I would rather be the youngest child than the oldest, and that’s because of my brother.

My brother and I have a messy relationship. Colin, my older brother of one year, one month, and one day exactly, is quite a character. Growing up, we would have many verbal and physical fights, always ending with one of us (usually me) crying. We both are now mature enough to use our words to express our disagreements instead of using force, but oftentimes we still do get into heated arguments. Despite our many fights over our differences, I love my brother and value his opinions and advice more than anyones. I have the biggest, utmost respect for Colin, and it’s due to what he had to endure as the oldest.

My family immigrated to the United States in 2008, with little to no knowledge of English and American culture. I was four years old and my brother was five. Both so young at that time, we encountered many obstacles due to the language barrier. My parents had it a lot harder than us since they had to handle paperwork and legal procedures to finalize citizenship, apply for banks, and get accustomed to shopping here in the US. Once my brother and I entered elementary school, our English improved exponentially, and by the end of my 4th grade, we were both fluent. That was not the case for my parents, however. My dad was too busy working all day, and my mom was too busy handling house chores and shopping for food to learn English on their own time. Instead of teaching themselves to read and write, they relied heavily on my brother to understand English. When filing for taxes every year, my brother would sit next to our dad for hours and hours, while I was outside playing with my neighborhood friends. When I ate dinner while watching TV, my brother would teach our dad basic phrases to communicate with his coworkers better. While I went to have countless sleepovers with classmates, my brother spent hours practicing pronunciation with our mom so that she wouldn’t get weird stares at the store when trying to buy a pound of meat.

My brother, who I thought was a selfish, mean, and annoying brother growing up, is now someone I respect the most. Although I may have not noticed back then when I was little, I do now know how selfless he was and still is. At such a young age, my brother had to teach himself how to file taxes, pay bills, and be an adult without a choice. I wonder how many times while I was outside enjoying my childhood, was he stuck inside having to take on these responsibilities for the sake of our family. As the youngest child, I wish I could go back in time and hug my brother for taking on that role instead of me. I will always be grateful for not being the oldest, and be grateful for having a brother like Colin. Although I sometimes complain about being the youngest, I definitely never mean it.