From Servitude to Sovereignty: Unpacking the Eldest Daughter Syndrome in ‘My Name is Maame’

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Summary: In My Name is Maame, Jessica George tells the story of Maame Wright, a 25-year-old only daughter in a Ghanaian household and the primary carer for her father, who suffers from advanced-stage Parkinson’s. She has little to no support in caring for her father, not even from her mother, who spends most of her time in Ghana, and yet still manages to be overbearing. 

Jessica George’s 2023 debut novel My Name is Maame is a contemporary, late-stage coming-of-age story that closely explores intersectional feminism, highlighting how gender expectations intersect with invisible unpaid caregiving to restrict women’s autonomy. The novel unfolds with themes of identity, first- and only-daughter syndrome, independence, self-worth, grief, and mental health.

The narrative follows the life of Maame Wright, a 25-year-old only daughter of a Ghanaian household and the primary carer for her father, who suffers from advanced-stage Parkinson’s. She has little to no support in caring for her father, not even from her mother, who spends most of her time in Ghana, and yet still manages to be overbearing. Under this unpaid labour and weight of responsibility, Maame left home to find her life and being.

In My Name is Maame, Jessica George weaponises the weight of language to deliver a sharp feminist critique of how society naturally associates the feminine identity with unpaid domestic labour. The very foundation of this critique is embedded in the novel’s title and the protagonist’s familial name, “Maame,” which translates to “mother or woman” in Twi. 

By exploring the symbolic and practical implications of this name, Jessica exposes how patriarchal structures pre-programme young women for a lifetime of self-sacrifice before they are ever given the chance to discover who they are.  This linguistic branding manifests literally in Maddie’s daily life, where she is forced into a multi-layered role of unpaid domestic servitude. 

She is not merely the sole caregiver for her ailing father with advanced Parkinson’s disease; she is also the default housekeeper, cook, and emotional anchor for an otherwise absent family. By tracking this overwhelming routine, Jessica illustrates how society treats a woman’s time, labour, and emotional energy as public property rather than individual assets.

Through a patriarchal framework that confined women to caregiver roles, Maddie’s older brother, James, is largely absent and avoids taking care of their ailing father. He is socially permitted to build his own life, whereas Maddie is culturally and structurally trapped as the sole caregiver for her father with Parkinson’s disease. This burden highlights a stark gender double standard compounded by thier overbearing mother, who weaponises guilt from afar in Ghana while offering no actual physical or emotional support. The result is Maddie’s eventual decision to move out and establish physical boundaries to reclaim her time and body. 

The “first/only daughter syndrome” is a psychological and cultural phenomenon that captures the emotional, mental, and domestic burdens placed on eldest or sole daughters in a household. This syndrome is beyond a personal family issue. It’s a visible symptom of a patriarchal structure that relies on the systemic exploitation of young women’s labour. As the only daughter of the household, Maddie did not choose to look after her father; the role was thrust upon her because the patriarchal family unit assumes that a young woman will naturally absorb the emotional and physical mess of a family crisis. Through her, the author explores how this syndrome robs young girls of their development, identity, autonomy, and rights. While their peers are exploring hobbies, building careers, and learning who they are, the first/only daughter is trapped at home, performing the duties of an adult wife and mother before she has even experienced youth. 

When Maddie packs her bags, seeks therapy, and learns to say no to her overbearing mother, she is performing a deeply political and feminist act. She breaks a cycle of generational trauma, asserting that her life has intrinsic value outside of what she can do for other people. In the end,  My Name is Maame, is a  synthesis feminist choice.  The name is no longer a title of forced servitude imposed by a patriarchal family unit; it is a self-defined, empowered banner of Maame’s own womanhood. She proves that choosing oneself does not mean a total abandonment of love or community. It’s a demand that love and community exist on terms that respect women’s humanity.