Growing up with a twin brother taught me more than I would like to know about emotional labor. From my first memories of us growing up together, I knew that the expectations I was held to were quite different from those that my brother was held to. I was expected to be the picture of emotional maturity. Conflict resolution, good communication, and empathy was something that was supposed to be built in. My brother was merely expected to be a boy. The worst part about the expectation of performing emotional labor is that it goes largely unnoticed and unvalued.

When I was a child, maybe 7 or 8, my twin brother and I would fight relentlessly. I would come to hang out with him and his friends, and the argument would usually start of by him declaring that he did not want me there because I was a girl. I would defend myself and my ability to hang with the boys, and eventually he would give in. This was not the end of the emotional torment. Once it was decided that I was allowed to stay, my brother would do anything he could to belittle me, whether that was emotionally or physically, many times both. Sometimes I would ignore and play nice, and sometimes I would snap back. Snapping back never worked. The fight would escalate with my attempts to defend myself. It always came down to the fact that he was bigger than me or meaner than me.

When I had finally had enough and went to my parents for help, I got the same answer most of the time: “Don’t take it personally, boys will be boys. Either don’t hang out with them or suck it up and go back in.” Here is where the imbalance lied. I was always expected to do one of two things. My first option was to go back into the room and diffuse the situation, either by apologizing or by pretending like nothing happened. My second option was to stop hanging out with my brother and spend the rest of the day alone, thinking about what had just occurred. Either way, I was expected to perform emotional labor while no emotional labor was ever expected of my brother.

You would think that being expected to perform emotional labor since childhood would make one better at communicating in emotionally charged situations. For me at least, it did the opposite. I have spent so long prioritizing the diffusion of social situations that I seem to have forgotten how to advocate for myself. Instead of assertively communicating when someone has hurt me or I want something different than someone else, I freeze or avoid, which ultimately makes the situation worlds worse than if I just stood up for myself. Emotional labor is something that should be taught with equity and highly valued, not something that is expected of someone because of who they are. When emotional labor is expected rather than taught and respected, it can quickly become a source of massive trauma.