Women who look this up have usually recognized themselves in something already and are checking whether the term fits a family that looks perfectly ordinary from outside, no shouting, no police, a mother everyone at church thinks well of. Being the family scapegoat has less to do with being disliked than with how explanations get handed out, her problems come from her character and everyone else's come from their circumstances, so her divorce was predictable and her brother's was a bad situation he got caught in. It's an arrangement rather than an opinion, which is why it holds up against evidence, and why a woman can do well for fifteen years and find that the family account of her hasn't moved at all. Most of the people maintaining it aren't cruel and would be genuinely startled to hear it described this way, they're just consistent, and consistency is all the role requires.

Keisha Clark, PhD, is a developmental psychologist and the author of Family, Interrupted and Useful Isn't the Same as Loved.

What a family scapegoat is

Every family has to explain itself to itself, and some families do that by locating what's wrong in one person, which is easier than looking at the marriage or the drinking or the money. Once that's established, the explanation gets applied to whatever comes up, a canceled holiday is because of her, a tense dinner is because of her, and the argument between two other people last Easter ends up filed under her name anyway. She's often the one who said something true at the wrong moment, told a teacher, asked a question in front of a guest, refused to go along with the account everyone else had agreed to, and the role starts there rather than with anything she did wrong.

What makes it hard to see from inside is that nobody has to be malicious for it to work. A mother who says her daughter is difficult, a father who agrees, a brother who repeats it because he's heard it his whole life, and an aunt who has never questioned any of it, all behaving reasonably by their own lights, produce a woman whose reputation is settled before she walks in. She can tell from a greeting that something's been said about her, and she can't point to what.

How a child becomes the family scapegoat

Temperament does some of it, since the child who argued back, or who noticed things and mentioned them, is a more useful place to put the blame than the child who was easy to be around. Timing does more of it than people realize, a daughter born during a bad stretch of a marriage, or during a period when money was frightening, gets associated with that stretch in a way nobody chooses on purpose. Sometimes it's resemblance, and a girl who looks or sounds like a relative her mother couldn't stand starts out disliked for a reason she'll never learn. And sometimes it's simply that somebody had to be it, and she was the one available.

The counterpart role gets discussed less honestly. The sibling who was treated as the good one is not living a charmed life, he's meeting a standard he can't stop meeting, and he often has no idea the comparison was running because he only ever heard the flattering half of it. Adult siblings who benefit from an arrangement like this generally aren't lying when they say they don't remember it that way, they were in a different family under the same roof, and asking them to confirm what happened to you is usually what ends the conversation.

What it looks like in adulthood

The clearest sign is who finds out things and when. She hears about family decisions after they're made, the sale of the house, the change to the holiday, the diagnosis nobody called her about, and she's told rather than consulted, then treated as difficult when she reacts to being told. She gets calls when something's gone wrong and not when something's gone well, so the only time she hears from them is when something has gone wrong.

Money and labor make it concrete faster than anything else, a brother gets six thousand dollars to help with a business and it's described as an investment, she asks about a loan during a hard year and gets advice about budgeting. She's the one who takes the airport runs, empties the storage unit, handles the insurance paperwork after a death, sits at the hospital on the weekday shifts, and none of it changes how she gets described, the way a single visit from someone else does. She also over-explains, keeps texts, apologizes before she's been accused of anything, and rehearses conversations in the car, all of which are reasonable responses to being disbelieved for thirty years and all of which get read as further proof of the original problem.

What happens when the scapegoat stops participating

Escalation comes first, and it's often surprising in its intensity, because a family that has organized itself around one explanation has a real problem when the person it's been assigned to declines to keep taking it. Expect more calls, more relaying through siblings, more accounts of what she's done circulated to relatives who weren't paying attention before. This isn't proof she was wrong, though it feels like it, since the reaction is about the arrangement rather than about her.

After that, some families reassign the role, and a sister who spent thirty years as the reliable one finds herself being described in the exact terms that used to apply to somebody else, usually within about eighteen months. In others nobody takes it up and the family simply contracts, sees each other less, and settles on a shared account in which she is the reason things fell apart, which is the same explanation that was already running, now with better supporting evidence in their view.

Whether the role ever changes

It hardly ever changes while it's still useful, and it stays useful as long as it keeps the family from looking at whatever it was set up to avoid. It does sometimes change when the person who set it up dies, which is why a parent's death changes things so often, though what comes after is unpredictable and sometimes worse. It also changes when a sibling's own life goes badly enough that his troubles can't be explained by circumstance anymore, and that comparison stops working. Occasionally one sibling decides on her own to stop repeating the family account, and that single change does more than any conversation with a parent.

What's available to you is narrower than that, and it still helps. Stop supplying evidence, which means stop explaining yourself at length to people who have already decided, since the explanation is what gets quoted back. Decide what you'll attend and for how long before you're invited rather than in the moment. Stop asking siblings to confirm your account of a childhood they've committed to remembering differently, because that request is what turns a workable relationship with a brother into another lost one. And notice how you're treated for a year rather than an evening, since any family can manage a good Thanksgiving, and the pattern shows up in who gets called in March.

About the author

Keisha Clark, PhD, is a developmental psychologist who writes about family estrangement, mother and daughter relationships, and the patterns families repeat without naming them. She's the author of Family, Interrupted: A Guide to Understanding Estrangement, From Both Sides of the Silence and Useful Isn't the Same as Loved, along with a companion workbook, and she writes The Estrangement Project, where she takes no side between mothers and daughters because both accounts are usually sincere and neither one is complete on its own.