I have a secret that not many people know. When I was 18 years old, I trained in acting, singing and dancing (mostly tap). I dreamed of being famous and I wanted to be rich. Filthy Rich. But underneath it all, I wanted to prove something. To my mother, my family, and even to the kids from school who made me feel small. Though I had left school, the sting of those playground experiences lingered. I wanted to show them all that I could make it. That I could be Someone.
The only hiccup? I was not exactly oozing talent. As much as I longed for the spotlight, the spotlight didn’t really long for me. Let me just say, the talent scouts weren’t exactly banging down my door. My tap shoes had more rhythm than I did. I enjoyed acting, singing and dancing, but I did not have a passion for them. I still love dancing, and will rock around the house when no one is watching. I am more of a bathroom singer than a stage performer. I’ve often thought about taking up acting again, perhaps in a community group, but I lack motivation and time to attend rehearsals, particularly when the date looms closer for the full performance and more days and hours are required to rehearse.
Acting gave me the opportunity to inhabit a persona. And to hear the applause and laughter (hopefully, in the right places). In one play, I ‘occupied’ the character of the wife of the town drunk. I loved the over-exuberance of that role and the mischief and freedom of this character. On stage, I felt unrestrained of family expectations of how they viewed me as a girl, and as a daughter. Acting gave me the opportunity to feel uninhibited by society’s expectations of who a woman is supposed to be. Acting gave me a taste of something I didn’t have in real life. A release from restraint.
When a Role Becomes an Identity
Role-playing was a big part of who I was in my family when I was a child, then a teen, then a young person. It’s all I knew. In my family, I was allotted the role of the Good Girl, the Good Daughter. Sometimes it was okay to swap to the role of the Clown, make people laugh, particularly when there was growing tension between my parents, or the stress of a brother getting into trouble with the law. My parents were sad and angry in their relationship, and my mother was distressed about the outcome of my brother’s constant interactions with police, the courts, prison. Accompanying mum as a child, then as a teenager, as we visited my brother behind bars, standing in line to sign in the visitor register, looking around at other families whose troubled relative was incarcerated, I learned that my job was to be Mother’s Helper, Comforter, Caregiver, to be a bright spot in an otherwise dark situation.
Becoming Who They Needed, Not Who You Are
In families that are rigid or chaotic, children are often conditioned into roles – roles they didn’t choose, but were handed. These roles become familiar, even when they’re limiting or painful. Over time, the message becomes clear, “This is who you are.” “Don’t step outside the role WE have assigned you.” For many women, this starts early. You might have been the Peacekeeper, the Good Girl, the Quiet One, the Caregiver or Helper, the Responsible One. Or perhaps you were labelled the Difficult Child/Rebellious Teen, the Emotional One, the one who was “Too Much.” These roles can feel like scripts you didn’t write, but somehow ended up performing over and over. And because they were reinforced, through silence, approval, or criticism, they start to feel like truth. These patterns are often reinforced by cultural expectations about how daughters should behave. For many women, this conditioning runs deep. It’s not just a role. It becomes an identity. And stepping out of it can feel like betrayal, even when it’s the path toward freedom.
The Cast of Characters: Common Roles Daughters Inhabit
In sessions with my clients, I often hear of the roles relegated to them when they were young, when they were vulnerable, when they had a small voice, or no voice at all. These roles have been passed down from grandmothers to mothers and then onto daughters. Whether you’re a daughter, a mother or both, you might recognise some of these roles from your own life. These roles often overlap.
As Signe Hammer wrote,
“Mothers of daughters are daughters of mothers and have remained so,
in circles joined to circles, since time began.”
Helper/Caregiver/Nurturer: Some daughters get cast in this role way too early. I’ve talked to many women who tell me they were basically expected to be a mini-mum from childhood – helping raise their siblings, doing way more housework than any kid should, or even taking care of grandparents or other relatives. In families dealing with addiction or other serious problems, this often becomes more intense. The daughter becomes the one who swoops in to fix everything, to rescue everyone. She learns that being needed equals being loved, so she keeps giving and giving, even when it drains her completely.
Sometimes these daughters become their mother’s emotional crutch – the one who has to listen to all the adult problems, keep all the family secrets, and somehow make everyone feel better. It’s like being forced to be the family therapist when you’re still figuring out your own life. These women often tell me they spent their whole childhood trying to fill up their mum’s emotional tank, never realising their own was running on empty.
The Good Daughter: This role often involves conforming to family expectations, being obedient, and avoiding conflict. This can sometimes lead to the daughter suppressing her own needs and desires. She learns that love is conditional upon perfect behaviour and compliance. She is often thought of as the Quiet One or Bookish Child.
Golden Child: She is the one who can do no wrong in mum’s eyes. She’s the one who is successful and making everyone proud at family gatherings. But there’s a flip side because this often happens at the expense of her own authentic self. She’s so busy being perfect and making everyone else proud that she loses track of what she actually wants. And has no idea of who she really is. Which brings me to the next role, The Lost Woman.
Lost Child/The Lost Woman: This daughter may be withdrawn or overlooked, potentially feeling neglected or invisible. This role can result from feeling overshadowed by other siblings (who may be the Golden Child in the family system) or family challenges. She learns to make herself small, to not take up space, to fade into the background. She can feel that her life is defined by others. She feels unseen and unheard, can feel invisible or in the background of the family. Without a sense of self, this daughter has no idea of her value and identity outside of her caregiving role. She becomes who others expect her to be. ‘Lost women’ often over-care for others, seeking love and validation while neglecting themselves. When asked what they need, they feel anxious – they don’t know.
Scapegoat/Rebel: This is the daughter who won’t play along with the family’s unspoken “let’s pretend everything’s fine” game. She’s the one who calls out the dysfunction, asks the uncomfortable questions, or just refuses to smile and nod when things are clearly messed up. Often she gets blamed for everything and is labelled the “problem child” or “the difficult one”, not because she is the problem, but because she disrupts the unspoken rules that keep the family system running. The Scapegoat often carries the emotional weight for what the family doesn’t want to face. Instead of addressing deeper issues such as conflict, neglect, or unspoken pain, the family unconsciously (or consciously) places the blame on her. She becomes the outlet for frustration, anger or shame. The Scapegoat, though, is often the most emotionally honest member of the family. Her behaviour, while seen as difficult or rebellious, is often a healthy response to an unhealthy environment. She’s the truth-teller, she’s like a quiet whistleblower within the family. As an adult, she may leave home early, move far away or cut contact entirely.
Peacekeeper: This daughter may try to maintain harmony within the family, often mediating conflicts and smoothing over disagreements. She will often intervene when parents are quarrelling, often to her own detriment. She learns that her job is to keep everyone happy, even when it means denying her own feelings and needs.
These are some roles that daughters inhabit, and I want to be clear here.
None of this is her choice. It is a family dysfunction, and it is a generational issue. Mother-Daughter Coaching will help you explore who you are beyond these roles. If you’re ready to rewrite the script, reach out and let’s talk.
Next week in Part 2 of this blog, we’ll dive deeper into how these patterns play out and what it takes to break free from them.
Image: Javi Indi, Freepik
Janice Williams specialises in Mother-Daughter Relationships, is a Qualified Counsellor and the only Certified Mother-Daughter Coach in Australia and the South Pacific region.
Sessions are available across Australia and worldwide.