THE RISE AND FALL OF THE MIDDLE CHILD

My older brother Mitchell, my younger sister Missy,
and me wearing a Thurston Howell III ascot.

      The middle child, which I proudly declare myself to be, began appearing in large numbers throughout The United States after WWII. Americans were fucking like crazy, especially Jews who were having sex more than anyone else, trying to make up for the 'recent dip'  in numbers they had lost in Europe. All this sex paid off, and by 1959 the average (and loud)  American household had 3.7 children.
    But by the early 60's, the number of  new babies slowed down. The birth control pill made its debut and became almost as popular as the Beatles. Also contributing to the slowdown was the fact that Jews finally started to trust that the Nazis might actually not be coming back again, which allowed them to relax a little and not frantically fuck to save their future. By 1965 when my baby sister, Missy, was born, the average number of children in U.S. households dropped to 2.6. That number has continued to drop every year since, and now stands at 1.8 children.  0.2 percent shy of having a second child who has all his body parts.

2.6 CHILDREN

1.8 CHILDREN

     As shocking as it might sound, this steady decline is bringing about the end of the middle child. Yes, the middle child is becoming extinct faster than the Humpback Whale. There are less of my kind now than there has been in 60 years. Now, the second child who in the past would have very likely grown up as the middle after the next sibling was born, is ending up being the last child, better known as the youngest. The middle child slot is getting cut out of the equation. The majority of kids under ten don't even know a middle child in their age group. We are becoming something that mothers only in the past gave birth to, kind of like the Thalidomide 'flipper' babies who aren't seen anymore. 
    When I write about the middle child, I'm referring to the true middle, who only exists in a threesome. Technically, if there are four siblings, the second and third ones are in the middle. But a middle shared by two is overpopulated. They divide the position and diminish the impact their family has on them and that they have on their family. Also, a true middle can only be at most  3-4 years, preferably 1-2 years, apart from both the oldest and youngest.  This way, the three can closely interact with each other and any adult who is helping to raise them. Only then can a middle child's personality take its full functioning form. And don't think for a minute that you can become a true middle by default. If the second child of that family of four teenage siblings has the bad luck of being crushed to death in her car by a gigantic display soccer ball, the third born does not automatically become a true middle. The order changing later in life doesn't change how a child learned to deal with life. So it's impossible to all of the sudden turn yourself into a middle child.   
    I realize that not too many siblings have fantasies about being the middle child, and there are probably not too many children who are hoping a sibling dies just so they can claim the middle thrown.  Even at the height of our popularity when we were in almost every household, the middle child has always been considered by people who study the chronology of siblings to be ' the second-class citizen of the birth order'. The assumption made by some birth order experts is that the middle child suffers from a terrible identity crisis. This is based on the premise that being the first child  and being the last child are the only viable two positions to hold. 'Middle' isn't even considered an actual position, it's more the lack of a  position.
     To make a comparison, all you have to do is think of  New York as the first born and San Francisco as the last born, and what's left in between is the entirely-less-important 'middle of the country'. Pointing this out does not mean for a moment that I'm defending the middle states. With all the guns and bibles being stockpiled, they can surely, and unfortunately, defend themselves. I am, however, here to defend the word 'middle' and to help define its glory.
     I will admit that the 'middle' can sometimes be a bad thing, like  the middle of a brawl, the middle row of teeth on a shark, the middle of a quicksand pit, middle-school gym class, the Middle East, the middle seat during a car crash, the middle finger, middle-age onset dementia, middle-of-the -road, and the proverbial 'middle of nowhere'.
   The word 'middle' is at its best when it is the connection between two hard- to-reach places, or people. Every bridge built and every road laid is the middle between two points, as are all the oceans and seas. It's what we have to travel through, over, on, or in to get where we want. And wherever the middle might be is always where two opposing sides demand to meet. It's the ethereal place where deals and compromises are made, a murky marshland that only the middle child has the tools to navigate. We can read signs and signals better than our siblings. We can also survive rough, lonely voyages if we have to. Though we really don't want to.
   The identity crisis the middle child supposedly suffers is actually nothing more than the 'crisis' of having to create our own role in the family.  Something that has already been long-defined for both the first-born and the last-born child. They have a specific place; we instead have a specific job.  Parents don't quite know what to expect from a middle child, and have a more difficult time defining us in simple terms, especially if they are not middle children themselves. Figuring out the other two children takes much less thought and skill. We usually end up figuring out our role by ourselves without our families really ever understanding the complexity of the job we do. The other family members have only one role that they play over and over, like Carol Channing in Hello, Dolly! The middle child, on the other hand,  is like an understudy who can jump from role to role. It keeps us fluid and in a constant state of adjusting ourselves when a situation calls for us to.   
   It sounds exhausting, but it's not if you are a middle child. Our need to connect  is one of the driving forces of our lives, and the energy we have in reserve to do so is one of our greatest resources. Personally, I have put an amazing amount of energy into maintaining my connections. If the amount of energy I have spent just making sure my ex-boyfriends and I remain close could be converted into electricity, there would be enough to light up The Castro Theater for a year.  I have spent my entire life making deals and striking bargains to give people what they've wanted and to get what I've needed, raising the act of compromise into an art form. 
    To me, and most other middles, coming to a compromise is a natural and simple act.  One of the easiest things in life to do. For some people though, it's one of the hardest, and they see it as failing instead of succeeding. Hearing about the ongoing Israeli -Palestinian conflict and about the stonewalling stunts of the Republicans drives me particularly crazy as a  middle child. It goes against the essence of who we are. Being unwilling to compromise on even a single detail or make trades for things you want or need is one of the most arrogant postures a person can take, especially for a politician who's personal life in all probably isn't even effected by the outcome. I seriously doubt that there have been a lot of middle children involved in the Peace Process over the past decade, and I wonder just how much more peace we could actually bring. 
     Being in the middle has always made me feel more special, not less. It has also made me feel safe and loved. And when I'm in the middle my gravitational pull is at its strongest. So be careful not to let me squeeze in between you and someone else, or you might end up being sucked into a world you can't get out of...    

I was only 8  here but already my brother and sister didn't stand
a chance. I stuck myself right in the middle with my striped pants
and big crooked smile. My mother Priscilla was obviously trying to
get better picture placement as well in that fabulous Ann-Margret outfit

This was taken back in our twenties
when Scott and I were breaking up
and Pepe and I were starting to date.

  Our friend Mark, who was an amazing artist, made us pose like this. He was painting a mural and needed three male bodies  so we volunteered. This is not how we normally sat hanging out on a relaxing afternoon. Somehow I wound up in the middle.

Even in group shots I managed to get close to middle.

This shot from last year
is my most recent 'middling' I could find.
I promise I will stop thrusting myself
into the center, at least in front of a camera.