Sitting in our rental car in San Francisco, I grew increasingly anxious as an argument between my cousin, Elaine, and her brother, David, escalated.
I was road-tripping across California with my aunt and her two children — the longest trip I had ever taken without my mom. In between their snarky remarks at each other, they would remind me of how lucky I am to be an only child.
They weren’t the first people to tell me how grateful I should be as an only child — and they definitely would not be the last.
I often found myself as the token only child in my friend groups. I could not empathize with their sibling drama, the competition for parental attention or the responsibility of taking care of younger siblings. I get to be the center of my parents’ attention, I get all the toys and snacks that I want and all of my clothes and belongings are mine and have only ever been mine.
Lucky me.
But there are other things that I can’t relate to as an only child. I’m not afforded the luxury of having an older sister to coach me through my first gynecologist appointment, an older brother to protect me from all the horrible relationship drama I would soon find myself facing and I can’t force any younger siblings to listen to my life dramas.
Throughout my adolescence, I’ve evidently experienced a severe case of “only-child syndrome,” an epidemic of only children whose solitude led to the development of traits like selfishness, loneliness, narcissism, etc.
However, just as many only children there are wishing for a sibling, there are probably an equal amount of siblings wishing that they were only children. So the debate goes: Which one is better?
Of course, I’m just a tad biased.
Growing up without the support of a built-in friend added on to my parents’ immigrant background, I had to learn virtually everything by myself. From braiding my hair to filling out the FAFSA forms, everything was just a little bit harder doing alone.
Despite all the Youtube or TikTok tutorials I watched, I could barely learn how to normally braid my hair until I was in high school. A french braid still seems daunting to me, and the thought of incorrectly filling out the FAFSA still haunts me at night.
People with siblings, especially older ones, can simply learn by example. I found myself completely and entirely lost during the college application process. My friends could only help me through their older siblings’ advice. If only I didn’t have to go through a middleman for that.
Though they have to vie for their parents’ attention, siblings aren’t under a constant watchful microscope. They are afforded just a little more leeway than an only child, but I suppose that is also dependent on the specific sibling being asked.
There is a sense of bitter-sweet pride watching younger siblings mature. Leaving an imprint is a privilege, and it reminds us of our own progress. The annoyance of a pestering younger sibling blossoms into the maturity of a young adult who reflects your own success as a mentor and role model.
I’ve also; however, heard a fair share of horror stories from friends about their siblings as well. These stories include the classics like being forgotten at the grocery store or scaring the other half to death in the shower. Others may be more serious, including stories about estrangement or political differences.
Sibling relationships aren’t all sunshines and rainbows, but neither is being an only child.
At the same time, I can’t imagine my life with a sibling. Though I sometimes despise it, having my parents’ primary attention certainly ensured a childhood full of love and care. I’ve always enjoyed my alone time, and don’t think I could sacrifice it at my siblings’ beckoning call.
Ultimately, I truly believe that neither sibling nor only child is better, because both varieties suffer from only-child syndrome.
I’ve met an unfortunate amount of people who are extremely dependent on their parents for the simplest of tasks. Some can’t extend their world views beyond themselves. Others feel extremely lonely, struggling to escape their comfort zones and befriend strangers. Would it really be a shock to discover these people have siblings?
On the flipside, I’ve met only children who are the most charitable, giving up themselves to help someone in need. I’ve met extremely social only children alongside those who prefer being alone more than anything.
Supposingly, most only children tend to outgrow their only-child syndrome. Others come to inherit it. All siblings possess some traits deemed typical of an only child. On the contrary, only children also possess traits deemed non-typical of an only child. Obnoxious, selfish, lonely. We are all the same, siblings and only children.
But who am I to say? After all, I am just an only child.