Birth order psychology has always amused me more than anything else. I spend much more of my time thinking about zodiac signs or MBTI types than the Middle Child Inferiority Complex. Subconsciously, though, I think we take sibling relations all into account. If someone points out that the woman with an intolerance for immature jokes and slight social confusion is an only child, your first reaction is going to be a sort of “oh, that makes so much sense now.” It’s just a lot more straightforward. Zodiac combines Sun Signs, Moon Signs, Mercury, Pluto, etc. And MBTI has a lot going on within those four letters. Birth order is more like red light, yellow light, green light. It’s simple when there’s only one factor to look at.
One thing I have noticed in my siblings and myself is our varying reactions and degrees of interest in hero narratives. Consequently, I’ve also noticed which roles my siblings and I play in each other’s lives.
The oldest child is the antihero of the family. He’s got a me-versus-the-world mentality. He’s not always wrong, of course, but he’s not always right, either. He grew up thinking he was an adult, separate from the “kids,” and as such has learned to question authority (again, sometimes he’s right, other times not). He sees the world in front of him and thinks “I need to navigate this somehow.” While he hates labels (refuses to call himself “good” or “bad”), he loathes the greed that can come with power. He will actively antagonize people he sees as problematic given the chance, and act as a Robin Hood figure when the opportunity arises. He is not a bad person, but don’t be fooled: he’s a survivor.
The middle child is the hero, and I’m not saying that just because I’m the middle child. We come with a sense of entitlement only granted to ex-youngest siblings, and the strange notion that doing the right thing will make the world a fair place, despite all evidence to the contrary. We’ve been looked after as the youngest before, and we’ve been caught in the frustration of unequal power dynamics. We are aware of what we can do and know what we should do, ideally. That awareness changes things, that shifting perspective gives us a world of gray area, but also the ability to nail down the shade needed in any situation.
The youngest child is the villain. Simply put, they get to see how well the “hero” thing works out for the middle children, and they see how the “mind your own business” approach goes for the eldest. This isn’t to say the youngest is evil. Manipulative, perhaps. Charming, usually. Less honest with his feelings, but skilled at emoting whatever the situation needs. Good speakers, used to the spotlight, pros at the metaphorical sleight of hand.
Obviously, I can only describe what I’ve observed. Not only are these the consistent behaviors I’ve seen in siblings, but also the familiar fixations. My older brother was never much one for hero narratives, not as far as I can remember, anyway. When we were younger, he liked Pokemon, fantasy football, game shows, Animal Planet…lots of things, but not superhero stories.
I thought I was very strange, having such a fascination with superheroes. I fell in love with the X-Men movies in middle school. Convinced it was weird, or generally considered “for babies,” I was very secretive about it. Recording the movies in private, watching them alone, and deleting them before I could be caught. Staying up until 2 a.m. to watch reruns of the 90s Iron Man, Hulk, and Spider-Man cartoons…the sentiment makes my heart sing, somehow.
It’s a miracle my little brother came around, or I might have remained a closeted nerd my entire life. He liked the heroes well enough, but always had a stronger interest in the villains. This quick-witted, kind-hearted, polite child always wanted to know my favorite DC villains, and instead I would just tell him who my favorite Robin was that week. I still don’t fully understand where he’s coming from, but maybe I’m getting there.
