Youngest Child Syndrome
April 22, 2025
Writer: Lola Eiserman
Edited by: Zoe Gellert
Being the youngest of three, I am well-versed in the assumptions and stereotypes of what being the youngest child means. I was always the little firecracker who always brought something to the dinner table conversation, whether good or bad. Growing up, I was often looked at as a fragile piece of china, so delicate and frail that you must hold it with care. My siblings and parents often tried to shield me from the harsh realities that lie beyond the doors to our house. This still lingers today.
I always found it ironic. I am the child who, since she was very little, never backed down, was stubborn and hard-headed but felt everything so deeply. I never asked for or needed to be guarded, but I was a baby princess born into a family sworn to protect me.
I never really knew if I did or didn’t identify with the ‘youngest child’ mold, but I’ve learned that it doesn’t matter whether or not I do. For the longest time, I questioned my identity. How could I really be myself if I am the last-born, raised and molded from my siblings and parents? I wondered: was I just a watered-down combination of my brother and sister?
This question didn't linger too long, though. I know who I am. I know that I may be a version or two of my sister’s middle school era, or a form of my brother's gaming and drumming phase. I see being the youngest as a privilege now. I have so many versions of my siblings' former selves instilled in me, their hobbies and nerdy interests combined with my own powerful personality. If I didn’t have my sister and brother to guide me, I wouldn’t be a different person; I would just be less like my true self.
Being the youngest child undoubtedly comes with its own set of hardships and challenges, but it makes me who I am, and it will be a part of who I will always be.