I never really put much thought into the concept of immigrant households and what it actually feels like to be the eldest daughter plus all the trauma that comes along with it. You always have to look out for yourself because you never know what may truly come out of the action you take even when you don't put much attention into your own abilities. Being the eldest daughter from an immigrant household comes with a lot of baggage physically and mentally. Firstly you are the first child of these two people and on top of that you are a girl. At the end of the day your parents are still trying to figure out the correct parenting method. Even though it seems harsh sometimes these are just people experiencing this for the very first time too. And they're just going to go off of their parents from the older generation, out looking at the norms of this community and society. Everything that you do is not only a view point for your reputation but as well as theirs, anything that could scar your life is apparently scarring theirs as well. 

I wasn't really very excited when my parents told me we were going on a family trip upstate. I thought it was gonna be like all the other family gatherings, where everyone was familiar with each other, more like best friends rather than just people they're related to, every one except me. Cousins who were technically family but felt more like distant adults than people I could actually connect with. But this time it should be different, my whole intention of going was to expense the AirBnB. I told myself that maybe the change of setting would make the experience better, even if the people stayed the same. Along with my family members, my father's cousins, their children, and a few close friends were also on the trip. Everyone was already familiar with each other's backgrounds, routines, and viewpoints at this type of event. Everyone but me. By far, I was the youngest. My cousins were mostly in their late twenties or early thirties. Despite their kindness, we never had more than casual conversations. They discussed weddings, careers, and responsibilities that I was still unable to relate to. On the first day at Airbnb, the house felt loud and full in a way that was overwhelming but familiar. Suitcases lined the hallway. Conversations overlapped in the kitchen. Kids ran through rooms that hadn’t even been fully unpacked yet. I remember standing in the doorway of one of the bedrooms, watching everyone move around, wondering how I would get through the next few days without feeling invisible or just uncomfortable. 

I was just standing there looking at everyone passing through the rooms when I saw one of my family friends make the same facial expression that I was making. I've known him for years but we never really talk about anything except for 

“hi”, 

“hello”, and 

“how school is going. He usually gets to respond with good and then we walk away or just continue eating. But this time we actually started having a conversation about how bored we both were, not only now but at all of the other family events that we both went to. We started sharing stories about the same gatherings with different points of views. I thought this trip wasn't going to be as boring as I thought it would be as I found someone my age with the same point of views and topics we relate to. Little did I know more intense stuff was coming my way.  

To me, it felt harmless. Normal. Comfortable.