The Family Scapegoat: The Role You Were Assigned, But Never Asked For

There they were. Three generations of men, firmly standing together like a united front, smiling. Further to the left, I spot a small gap.

And there was me.

Shoulders hunched, head slightly tilted forward, an awkward smile. Why was I there again? I wondered.

I have the answer to this question now: to play a role. That of the Black Sheep.

You get to be part of the flock, but not quite belong to it.

Your typical teen

Coming home with a perfect, aesthetically pleasing grade list in high school was one way I’d collect rare scraps of positive affirmations in the form of a glance and sarcastic utterance sounding like, “How good, well done.”

But we moved around a lot. And when you switch schools, you usually can’t take your grade list with you. The whole thing is wiped, and you start afresh.

When this happened again, I felt defeated. All that work for nothing. Add:

The aftermath of a divorce and two “adult” figures badmouthing each other
Getting the full ioda of gaslighting at family gatherings

Not feeling seen or appreciated
Not being taken seriously or accepted for how I was

And you have the necessary ingredients to cook up… one angry teenager.

The Black Sheep

In the dysfunctional family, when not assigned other roles I didn’t ask for, I was assigned that of Rebel or Black sheep.

The family “scapegoat” can be seen as the person a family blames for their problems to deflect attention from the real conflict or problem*. Think of a proverbial whipping bag.

As the oldest child, I was to blame. Whether I did wrong or not, it didn’t matter.

“Shut up!”
“Stupid child.”
“That’s your fault.”
“No wonder you’re [insert insult here].”

I took the blows of mostly verbal abuse and gaslighting, although, at the time, I didn’t have a name for it all.

So I learned to shut up.

I suppressed how I felt. I didn’t want to allow anyone to dive into more rounds of insults.

Over time, I became numb to the shouting, tantrums, and gaslighting. And from around age 14–15, I started talking. The fear of getting shouted at started to dissolve. I knew it was coming. It was the same old game, and it was starting to get boring.

Keeping my head up high

At school, I let no one know what was going on.

I hid it behind the facade of a tough girl, a big-mouthed rebel. Of someone not to be messed with. And you bet no one dared to.

I walked around with so much bottled-up anger, eagerly waiting for any opportunity to unleash it. So people stayed out of my way.

The potential consequences of my behavior weren’t my concern. As long as I was a minor, I didn’t have to carry the responsibility, if anything were to go wrong. I was smart enough to keep that in mind. So I came late to school (or not at all), didn’t bother about grades because no one cared, and had the biggest of all mouths. I sought out “bad” friends and acted out in ways I regret.

Any means to make time go faster or evaporate, I welcomed.

In reality, I was just waiting to turn 18, so I could leave.

The Family Scapegoat: The Role You Were Assigned, But Never Asked For Photo: Andrea Piacquadio/Pexels

Resigning from the role

Breaking off all contact with members of this old family unit was the change I needed.

The first few years, they tried reaching out to me, through email, or social, finding an opening where I hadn’t yet blocked them. Every new hole they found to contact me through, I blocked them there, too.

Someone else can step up as the black sheep or spit bucket, and that ain’t going to be me.

I never informed them of my resignation, but I quit the role, a long time ago.

With them out of the picture, I realized this internalized self-hate and loathing needed fixing. So I embarked on a healing journey revolving around

Reparenting
I assured myself that I could speak up, and nothing bad would happen
Believing I am allowed to have an opinion and voice it

Calm comes with age — and doing The Work

I now follow my interests and care much less about what other people think, expect, or have to say about me. Therapy’s been a great help.