Here is a link to Amy Chua's article, "Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior." This post is essentially me raging formally, so, read if you are so inclined, ignore if not (http://tinyurl.com/39ttucf):
Dear Professor Chua,
Upon reading the first few paragraphs on your article, I thought, my, what a hilariously outrageous caricature of stereotypical Asian parenting until I slowly came to the unhappy realization that you were serious.
Speaking as a child of two immigrant Shanghainese parents, I have, through listening to their stories and talking with them about their histories, learned the importance of drive and persistence for survival. Whether it was survival in post-Revolution China, or survival in a new country, I have always accepted that in their minds, struggle and hard times are constants. They worked hard because they needed to, but even moreso, they worked so their children would have brighter futures—so their children could have more choices and opportunities, ones they themselves never had.
The circumstances above may spawn, I believe, certain outcomes: Asian parents instruct their children in the truths they have learned, in some cases forcing children to take what parents believe to be “the best available opportunities”, thereby living vicariously through their offspring; or, speaking harshly—in your specific example, calling them “garbage”—to “correct” behavior. What I believe drives the second instance, in some cases, is that when a child is disrespectful, the parents—they who work day and night to provide for their children—are pained, and instinctively strike back.
Regarding your “garbage” example, I am reminded of a similar experience I had in my teenage years. I was walking with my mother when we had a rather sudden disagreement. I am sure what we were arguing about was silly, but what I distinctly remember is her calling me “a worthless son.” She later explained, using a similar rationale as yours, that she did not really mean it, but even though I tried to understand, in that moment I was deeply shocked and hurt that she could think that of me. I cannot say that my self-esteem was eternally fractured, but a decade later, I remember.
I love and respect my parents. I do for many reasons, but most of all, it is because they respect and love me enough to allow me to make my own choices, and consequently my own mistakes. I do not mean to imply that I do not value their guidance—in fact, I believe parents need to do exactly that and much more—but there is a line.
Sincerely,
Byron
