A monument to the idea

By now, most of the internet‘s collective e-mouths have been agog with fury, rage, and controversy over the Yale law professor Amy Chua’s excerpt titled, “Why Chinese Mothers are Superior“, published last Sunday in the Wall Street Journal. Besides free PR for her upcoming book, this article has also made a lot of good, important points. (She later said that she had no control over choosing the title of the article, which is an excerpt from her book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother.)

The internet community has almost collapsed on itself over discussion of the article, with the coveted children of the First Generation (the majority being Americans) all speaking up to air their grievances like a collective group therapy session. Read all in succession, it almost seems comical. The outlandish tactics parents used to get their children to practice piano, the strict homework and no-playdate schedules, the limiting of social activities they could participate in, and the control exercised over every detail of their life, no matter how private or minute.

But I read and heard little defense of the Chinese Mother. Yes, their behavior can sometimes be seen as borderline abuse, psychologically, emotionally and physically, but only when seen through Western eyes.

Chinese mothers are superior to Western ones when it comes to blind dedication to their children. The jury is still out on whether that results in “successful” offspring, because each culture has a different definition of what “successful” means. To be successful in a Chinese mother’s eyes means an end-product of  financial stability and a good (stable and prestigious) job that makes a lot of money. The key word is “stable”. The pre-cursors to these, of course, are enough lessons, tutoring sessions and academic success to guarantee entrance into an Ivy League college. To be successful in a Western culture means self-actualization, and doing whatever it is that makes you “happy”.

This blind dedication also means that they will never bat an eye when it comes to the cost of college, or any education, be it violin, flute, piano or ballet lessons. It also means that the reason most Chinese kids move back home after college is because their parents offer them a rent-free place, in the hopes that they can save more money. In comparison, many of my Western American friends had to take out their own loans when it came to college, or at least have a job or take a work-study position, even when their parents had enough money and means to go on cruise vacations or have a holiday house at the beach. It also meant that their parents told them over and over again, “when you’re 18, you are outta here. Sorry”.

I, of course, can chime in with my own stories of strict Chinese parenting.

Growing up, I used to envy my Western friends. When they received a B on a paper or test, it went on a fridge and they were paid $10. When I received one, I was called stupid and worthless. They were coddled and babied and told that no matter what they did, they were special and unique. My parents were harder on me because they expected better from me. They expected better from me because they knew I was capable of more. This belief is what still motivates and drives me today. I know what I am capable of, and am not afraid to try. What child, when they start playing piano or learning a new subject, picks it up right away? And what child, especially one at 11 or 12, realizes that if they just kept at it, they would improve?

Since then, I’ve learned to reconcile the two very different messages from my parents and my environment. I realize what my parents were doing. They were instilling the values of hard work and mental tenacity, which are central to life, no matter the job. Life will not and will never be easy for anyone. Worthwhile pursuits like learning a new skill will never come naturally to anyone, even if they are “gifted” or “talented”. Learning how to bounce back and essentially “get over it” is the biggest lesson one can learn. But I also learned that it was important to have my own definition of success and happiness, and that a healthy blend of both cultures is ultimately the way to go.

You can argue that there are very few Chinese-American CEOs,  high-profile innovators, politicians, or stars in the creative fields – but when you consider the low percentage that are homeless, in jail, or unemployed compared to other first-generation immigrant groups, then the “Chinese mothers are superior” argument starts to gain credence.

I love my mom (and dad!). I love them unconditionally, and respect and admire the sacrifices that they have made for me and my brother, but in the same vein I realize that they are, like parents of all cultures, still humans and subject to mistakes and stumbles in parenting. They raised us the best way they knew how — the same way that their parents raised them. When it comes time for my own children, I can only hope that I will be able to do as well as they have done.

Finally, I think it’s important to keep in mind that Ms. Chua’s excerpt is just that — an excerpt. I have no doubt that the title and the content were chosen to generate the most buzz and publicity, but I also have no doubt that the book as a whole is a commentary on exactly what I’ve come to realize: that balancing the two cultures and methods are the most important, but there are some lessons that we should take from our Chinese moms’ rule book.