Is Amy Chua right when she explains "Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior" in an op/ed in the Wall Street Journal?
The article puts forward a very strong view on behalf of Chinese/Chinese-American mothers who hold their children to rigorous and demanding standards even if that requires using abusive language as "motivation" (author's words)
Based on this WSJ article: http://on.wsj.com/Chinese
I was interested in hearing the viewpoints of those who have had a mother with the characteristics that Amy Chua advocates. Did you think you benefited from it, were hurt by it or experienced a mix of the two?
Based on this WSJ article: http://on.wsj.com/Chinese
I was interested in hearing the viewpoints of those who have had a mother with the characteristics that Amy Chua advocates. Did you think you benefited from it, were hurt by it or experienced a mix of the two?
Answer Wiki
100+ Answers
Tiger Parenting.
Useful to create a society that.
Believes coercion is the only means for compliance from human being.
Believes the face of "winning" and "better than" is the only success that counts.
Believes parents are owners and not stewards of children.
Believes Love Is Supposed To Hurt.
Believes the end always justifies the means.
Believes humans should be given "what" to think, not taught "how" to think, and certainly never given the freedom to question what is taught or thought.
Tiger Mothering.
Decks mothers and children in.
Eye-dazzling clothes of success
without regard for what wounds lie beneath.
Because on face value, people see what dazzles.
Ugly Wounds.
We turn away, our eyes and noses burning from
what rots within a sacred relationship.
Let’s look at what dazzles.
Let’s pretend this is real and everlasting.
I know Tiger Mothers. (You see my name, yes?)
I have lived and roamed in dens of Tiger Mothers.
Once upon a time
I was a cub
like other cubs I knew.
This was how I grew up.
This is why I’ve grown up.
I’ve grown up to eat Tiger Mothers for lunch.
________
p.s. YES, I have read the book.
Finally, a Review of that Tiger Mother book
Useful to create a society that.
Believes coercion is the only means for compliance from human being.
Believes the face of "winning" and "better than" is the only success that counts.
Believes parents are owners and not stewards of children.
Believes Love Is Supposed To Hurt.
Believes the end always justifies the means.
Believes humans should be given "what" to think, not taught "how" to think, and certainly never given the freedom to question what is taught or thought.
Tiger Mothering.
Decks mothers and children in.
Eye-dazzling clothes of success
without regard for what wounds lie beneath.
Because on face value, people see what dazzles.
Ugly Wounds.
We turn away, our eyes and noses burning from
what rots within a sacred relationship.
Let’s look at what dazzles.
Let’s pretend this is real and everlasting.
I know Tiger Mothers. (You see my name, yes?)
I have lived and roamed in dens of Tiger Mothers.
Once upon a time
I was a cub
like other cubs I knew.
This was how I grew up.
This is why I’ve grown up.
I’ve grown up to eat Tiger Mothers for lunch.
________
p.s. YES, I have read the book.
Finally, a Review of that Tiger Mother book
Suzan Song,
Views
The question asks for anecdotal responses, but I'll supplement it: As a medical director and child/adolescent psychiatrist of an Asian community clinic in California, a researcher in Asian adolescent mental health and an Asian-American woman myself, I'll have to disagree from clinical, research, and personal perspectives.
Clinically,
Depends on how one defines success – obtaining professional degrees in Ivy League schools, high income level, or "status" vs. personal happiness/fulfillment, well-adjustment, good mental/emotional and social health.
Not socializing one's child (play dates, plays, etc) could clinically create anxiety for your child in the future. Through play, children learn how to express themselves, solve problems, manage interpersonal differences, etc. While she's right in the notion that gaining mastery at something helps build confidence – emotional abuse and name calling do the opposite. Growing up in an emotionally invalidating environment has been linked to personality disorders.
I see Asian teens in my clinic; many are academically quite successful, but are also the ones I worry most about re: suicide. The depression red flags are different for many Asian teens, who may be getting good grades, are still engaged in extra-curricular activities, while profoundly struggling with self-identity, self-esteem, and rigidity in thought about potential outcomes ("either I have to be a Harvard lawyer, or I'll be so ashamed that the only outlook is death"). Also very problematic is the stigma against outsiders (non-family) giving help – many parents do not want their children to see a professional, wanting to keep all issues within the family.
Chua claims that when expected achievements or accomplishments are reached, then the child is celebrated – I have not seen that personally or clinically. The parents may boast to other parents, but that tends to create more stress for the child, feeling more responsibility to pleasing parents.
Research:
There are multiple studies that show:
Among the statistics of suicide in Asian Americans:
Personally:
Respecting elders, filial piety, valuing education and intellectual growth are all positive attributes that I'm thankful for receiving from my Korean parents. I'm also thankful I did not have the emotional abuse, "helicopter parenting", undue pressure on academic success that allowed me the flexibility to risk following interests, understand who I am and what drives me, and allow me to make the
difficult decisions to pursue passions, though non-lucrative. Positive feedback can be low in many of these Asian families, only seen through the lens of mothers boasting to other mothers about a child's accomplishments – furthering the debt and responsibility for that child. The notion that "my child can be the best" is a solid, encouraging one. My issue is the way in which Ms. Chua implements this.
Ms. Chua’s article has the potential to be harmful – perpetuating the
model minority myth that isolates some Asian Americans, places harsh
demands/restrictions and disregards the large number that are struggling. Many believe that Asians are quiet and hard working, but that does not mean psychological distress is absent. It disrespects the large number of young people who are struggling with severe depression and suicidal thoughts, poor self-worth, inability to deal with life stressors or realities, or manage interpersonal relationships directly related to their parents' love being conditional on academic success. Independent of ethnicity, parents who help youth develop a personal sense of who they are and assist in building resiliency and interpersonal skills to modulate academic and professional success are more likely to develop into personally and professionally successful adults.
Clinically,
Depends on how one defines success – obtaining professional degrees in Ivy League schools, high income level, or "status" vs. personal happiness/fulfillment, well-adjustment, good mental/emotional and social health.
Not socializing one's child (play dates, plays, etc) could clinically create anxiety for your child in the future. Through play, children learn how to express themselves, solve problems, manage interpersonal differences, etc. While she's right in the notion that gaining mastery at something helps build confidence – emotional abuse and name calling do the opposite. Growing up in an emotionally invalidating environment has been linked to personality disorders.
I see Asian teens in my clinic; many are academically quite successful, but are also the ones I worry most about re: suicide. The depression red flags are different for many Asian teens, who may be getting good grades, are still engaged in extra-curricular activities, while profoundly struggling with self-identity, self-esteem, and rigidity in thought about potential outcomes ("either I have to be a Harvard lawyer, or I'll be so ashamed that the only outlook is death"). Also very problematic is the stigma against outsiders (non-family) giving help – many parents do not want their children to see a professional, wanting to keep all issues within the family.
Chua claims that when expected achievements or accomplishments are reached, then the child is celebrated – I have not seen that personally or clinically. The parents may boast to other parents, but that tends to create more stress for the child, feeling more responsibility to pleasing parents.
Research:
There are multiple studies that show:
- Despite high levels of academic achievement, Asian American students report poor psychological adjustment (Choi et al, 2006; Greene et al 2006; Rhee et al 2003; Rumbault, 1994; Yeh, 2003).
- Parental preoccupation with grades alone can create depression and anxiety for youth (Pang, 1991).
- Perception of parental disinterest in emotional wellbeing is significantly associated with depression (Greenberger 1996; Stuart et al 1999).
- It's shown that harsh parental discipline is related to depression of Chinese-Am teens (Kim & Gee, 2000).
Among the statistics of suicide in Asian Americans:
- http://www.pacificcitizen
.org/si...) - Asian Am women 15–24yrs old had the highest suicide rates among any ethnicity (Dept of Health and Human Services)
- California Institute of Tech 2009: 3 Asian suicides
- According to New America Media, from 1996 to 2006, of the 21 students who committed suicide at Cornell, 13 were APA. This 61.9 percentage is significantly higher than the overall percent of APA students, which is 14.
- From 1964 to 2000, the average number of MIT undergraduate student suicides was nearly three times that of many as the national campus average, with 21.2 students out of every 100,000 committing suicide in comparison to 7.5, with 11.7 as the national overall average.
Personally:
Respecting elders, filial piety, valuing education and intellectual growth are all positive attributes that I'm thankful for receiving from my Korean parents. I'm also thankful I did not have the emotional abuse, "helicopter parenting", undue pressure on academic success that allowed me the flexibility to risk following interests, understand who I am and what drives me, and allow me to make the
difficult decisions to pursue passions, though non-lucrative. Positive feedback can be low in many of these Asian families, only seen through the lens of mothers boasting to other mothers about a child's accomplishments – furthering the debt and responsibility for that child. The notion that "my child can be the best" is a solid, encouraging one. My issue is the way in which Ms. Chua implements this.
Ms. Chua’s article has the potential to be harmful – perpetuating the
model minority myth that isolates some Asian Americans, places harsh
demands/restrictions and disregards the large number that are struggling. Many believe that Asians are quiet and hard working, but that does not mean psychological distress is absent. It disrespects the large number of young people who are struggling with severe depression and suicidal thoughts, poor self-worth, inability to deal with life stressors or realities, or manage interpersonal relationships directly related to their parents' love being conditional on academic success. Independent of ethnicity, parents who help youth develop a personal sense of who they are and assist in building resiliency and interpersonal skills to modulate academic and professional success are more likely to develop into personally and professionally successful adults.
- For more info on Asian teen mental health, here's a more extensive post: http://kimchimamas.typepa
d.com/k... - And here's an interesting article about Chinese education that's relevant: http://articles.latimes.c
om/2011... - Also, for people in the Bay Area, Amy Chua is speaking about this Op-Ed at Booksmith (1644 Haight St SF) at 7:30pm on 1/19, and a fundraiser at the Hillside Club in Berkeley at 7:30pm on 1/20.
- Here's an interview with her that moderates the Op-Ed. http://www.sfgate.com/cgi
-bin/ar... (Though she still makes a strange Western vs. Chinese parenting distinction, stating that there's a "Western ideal of unlimited choice". ?? She should stick to being a lawyer. I'm not sure how she's building these stereotypes.) - And this is funny: http://tigermomsays.tumbl
r.com/
The parent depicted in Amy Chua's WSJ excerpt (apparently just a provocative excerpt intended to drive sales of the book; see Christine Lu's answer) is the parental equivalent of a demanding, yet incompetent executive or manager. Such people understand that high standards and pushing your employees (or children) are necessary, but are totally at a loss about how to do it without breaking down human morale in the process. Such methods lead to short-term performance gains but no long-term success. I've known managers like this, who excoriate and belittle their underlings in an attempt to "motivate" them, and their people will certainly move forward, but always only to avoid further punishment. However, it never results in long-term greatness. Treating children in the same way has similar results.
I am also a child that is the envy of my parents' friends - "Carnegie-Mellon! Director of Engineering at Facebook! He plays the piano so well! Two grandchildren!" By the time my parents' friends got around to asking them if I was considering going to work for Google, the answer they got was that Google was already passé and I was on to the next great thing, a company they'd not yet heard of. By now I look like a genius, and when Facebook IPOs, there's a possibility that I will do pretty well by Chinese parent standards.
I had similar experiences with my mother when I was learning piano. She would sit with me for hours, correcting every little mistake I would make and pressing me repeatedly to get the song right. It was terrible and oppressive. Eventually I would perform to her satisfaction, and after years passed I attained a near-concert-pianist level of piano skill. I was the envy of other Chinese parents, who would admiringly ask my mom who my piano teacher was. However, my talent can only be described as robotic - my ability to play the piano is restricted solely to pure technical mimicry, devoid of any emotion. At one point, I attended a "piano camp" with other equally talented white students, and what struck me is that those students actually practiced for hours because they loved music, and genuinely practiced for hour after exhausting hour because they couldn't get enough of the emotional expression that piano afforded them. Piano held none of that for me - through rote practice, I had simply acquired the ability to simulate true talent - when I had to begin adding subtle pauses and fermatas to my playing to indicate emotional expression, I would simply do so as instructed - and enough to fool the judges in the various piano competitions into which I would occasionally be entered. I won some of those competitions, again to the envy of other Chinese parents.
Today, the emotionally draining oppression of 11 years of piano training has had a remarkably tragic effect: I can no longer play the piano without almost immediately feeling a sensation of impotent rage and frustration every time I make a small error (which happens all the time when you are trying out something new). Worse, the association of this feeling with music in general has made it so that I can't enjoy music to any deep degree - my appreciation of music extends only to light listening of pop songs in the car - despite years of technical training and knowledge of classical forms. After coming to this realization consciously a year ago, I've tried to overcome this by purchasing a keyboard (see What is the best 88-key electronic piano available?) and allowing myself to play "without obligation to getting it correct." I tried in vain for a few weeks and then the novelty of the keyboard wore off; today the keyboard sits unused in our living room.
My mother was similarly overbearing when it came to teaching me Chinese. Today my technical grounding in understanding spoken Chinese is pretty good, and in a pinch I can speak Mandarin without much of an accent. However, I have an extremely strong mental block against doing so - I will almost never do it voluntarily or for fun in conversation; when hanging out with other ethnic Chinese people I will speak in English and (perhaps more concerningly), I have a strange psychological aversion to speaking in Chinese to my own children, despite even the exhortations of my wife that doing so would be good for them.
In contrast, my parents were relatively restrictive and discouraging of my spending time on the computer and playing video games. Video games were restricted only to the weekends, and spending a lot of time on the computer was discouraged and generally thought of as an indulgence. As I became a little older, it seemed to become apparent to them that maybe computer programming was actually a viable career path, so in my early teen years my dad made some minimal efforts to encourage me by buying me a couple programming books, but otherwise still left me alone and occasionally continued to frown at how often I was just using the computer to play games. Being on the computer was one of my favorite ways to spend time, at least until I discovered girls.
The rest is [LinkedIn] history - I went to Carnegie-Mellon for computer science, finally being allowed to spend all the time I wanted on a computer, and luckily found my way into an industry where my passion is one that is pretty highly-paid.
I would characterize my parents' efforts as having been only halfway what Amy Chua describes: they pushed very strongly in a few areas (piano and Chinese), while doing a half-assed job in others (e.g. allowing me to have friends and dating, frowning vaguely at the computer). The result is that my life today is almost devoid of piano or other forms of music, as well as any actual speaking of Chinese, despite retaining high technical skill in both of those - e.g. when I was sent to China by Facebook with a couple of non-Chinese colleagues in 2008, I was able to converse with our native Chinese driver to get us to our hotel after we got lost. In contrast, I developed considerable skill in computers and - especially compared to my Chinese peers - relationship-building, communication, and people-management skills. The fact that they were relatively liberal during my teen years in allowing me to have a social life (and by social life I mean "chasing girls and staying out late") had a direct effect on developing my ability to communicate and connect with people, including later my ability to manage people and organizations.
My parents today are proud of what I've become, and when their overbearing-parent friends ask what their secret was, they proudly "brag" that it was because they didn't push me too hard and let me do my own thing. I've avoided speaking to them about the piano or Chinese thing.
What I see among other Chinese children whom I was raised alongside or whom I see in workplaces today is that this method of Chinese parenting is great at producing skilled and compliant knowledge workers, but it utterly fails to produce children who can achieve greatness, remake industries, or come up with disruptive innovation. All the Chinese-American people I know who now perform at the highest levels - both creatively and technically - either achieved this without being driven to it by their parents (ask Niniane Wang about her upbringing) or in rebellion against the paths their parents set out for them (see Tony Hsieh http://www.businessinside
Postscript: I am currently not speaking to my parents (for reasons only semi-related and more complex than the things described in this answer). This might change, but it's indicative of the sort of relationship I have now with them.
I am also a child that is the envy of my parents' friends - "Carnegie-Mellon! Director of Engineering at Facebook! He plays the piano so well! Two grandchildren!" By the time my parents' friends got around to asking them if I was considering going to work for Google, the answer they got was that Google was already passé and I was on to the next great thing, a company they'd not yet heard of. By now I look like a genius, and when Facebook IPOs, there's a possibility that I will do pretty well by Chinese parent standards.
I had similar experiences with my mother when I was learning piano. She would sit with me for hours, correcting every little mistake I would make and pressing me repeatedly to get the song right. It was terrible and oppressive. Eventually I would perform to her satisfaction, and after years passed I attained a near-concert-pianist level of piano skill. I was the envy of other Chinese parents, who would admiringly ask my mom who my piano teacher was. However, my talent can only be described as robotic - my ability to play the piano is restricted solely to pure technical mimicry, devoid of any emotion. At one point, I attended a "piano camp" with other equally talented white students, and what struck me is that those students actually practiced for hours because they loved music, and genuinely practiced for hour after exhausting hour because they couldn't get enough of the emotional expression that piano afforded them. Piano held none of that for me - through rote practice, I had simply acquired the ability to simulate true talent - when I had to begin adding subtle pauses and fermatas to my playing to indicate emotional expression, I would simply do so as instructed - and enough to fool the judges in the various piano competitions into which I would occasionally be entered. I won some of those competitions, again to the envy of other Chinese parents.
Today, the emotionally draining oppression of 11 years of piano training has had a remarkably tragic effect: I can no longer play the piano without almost immediately feeling a sensation of impotent rage and frustration every time I make a small error (which happens all the time when you are trying out something new). Worse, the association of this feeling with music in general has made it so that I can't enjoy music to any deep degree - my appreciation of music extends only to light listening of pop songs in the car - despite years of technical training and knowledge of classical forms. After coming to this realization consciously a year ago, I've tried to overcome this by purchasing a keyboard (see What is the best 88-key electronic piano available?) and allowing myself to play "without obligation to getting it correct." I tried in vain for a few weeks and then the novelty of the keyboard wore off; today the keyboard sits unused in our living room.
My mother was similarly overbearing when it came to teaching me Chinese. Today my technical grounding in understanding spoken Chinese is pretty good, and in a pinch I can speak Mandarin without much of an accent. However, I have an extremely strong mental block against doing so - I will almost never do it voluntarily or for fun in conversation; when hanging out with other ethnic Chinese people I will speak in English and (perhaps more concerningly), I have a strange psychological aversion to speaking in Chinese to my own children, despite even the exhortations of my wife that doing so would be good for them.
In contrast, my parents were relatively restrictive and discouraging of my spending time on the computer and playing video games. Video games were restricted only to the weekends, and spending a lot of time on the computer was discouraged and generally thought of as an indulgence. As I became a little older, it seemed to become apparent to them that maybe computer programming was actually a viable career path, so in my early teen years my dad made some minimal efforts to encourage me by buying me a couple programming books, but otherwise still left me alone and occasionally continued to frown at how often I was just using the computer to play games. Being on the computer was one of my favorite ways to spend time, at least until I discovered girls.
The rest is [LinkedIn] history - I went to Carnegie-Mellon for computer science, finally being allowed to spend all the time I wanted on a computer, and luckily found my way into an industry where my passion is one that is pretty highly-paid.
I would characterize my parents' efforts as having been only halfway what Amy Chua describes: they pushed very strongly in a few areas (piano and Chinese), while doing a half-assed job in others (e.g. allowing me to have friends and dating, frowning vaguely at the computer). The result is that my life today is almost devoid of piano or other forms of music, as well as any actual speaking of Chinese, despite retaining high technical skill in both of those - e.g. when I was sent to China by Facebook with a couple of non-Chinese colleagues in 2008, I was able to converse with our native Chinese driver to get us to our hotel after we got lost. In contrast, I developed considerable skill in computers and - especially compared to my Chinese peers - relationship-building, communication, and people-management skills. The fact that they were relatively liberal during my teen years in allowing me to have a social life (and by social life I mean "chasing girls and staying out late") had a direct effect on developing my ability to communicate and connect with people, including later my ability to manage people and organizations.
My parents today are proud of what I've become, and when their overbearing-parent friends ask what their secret was, they proudly "brag" that it was because they didn't push me too hard and let me do my own thing. I've avoided speaking to them about the piano or Chinese thing.
What I see among other Chinese children whom I was raised alongside or whom I see in workplaces today is that this method of Chinese parenting is great at producing skilled and compliant knowledge workers, but it utterly fails to produce children who can achieve greatness, remake industries, or come up with disruptive innovation. All the Chinese-American people I know who now perform at the highest levels - both creatively and technically - either achieved this without being driven to it by their parents (ask Niniane Wang about her upbringing) or in rebellion against the paths their parents set out for them (see Tony Hsieh http://www.businessinside
Postscript: I am currently not speaking to my parents (for reasons only semi-related and more complex than the things described in this answer). This might change, but it's indicative of the sort of relationship I have now with them.
Anonymous
Views
No. Chinese mothers are not superior. It's clear that the author Amy Chua has a new book out and linkbait headlines in the WSJ will help her sell them. I understand she uses the term "Chinese Mother" to represent a certain parenting style - one that I am very familiar with from personal experience.
Here's my take on it. My family immigrated to the U.S. from Taiwan in the 70s. My mother was a stay at home mom raising 4 kids and was stereotypical strict. I lived in that household where getting a B on your report card was a sign of failure. A lot of focus and pressure was placed on the first child - my older sister - in the hopes that she would set an example for the rest of us. In a very painful hindsight I think you can say too much emphasis was placed on molding my sister into the example my mother wanted the rest of us to follow. I don't blame her as she did the best she could to raise us in the U.S. in the style that she was raised ...in Taiwan.
There's a culture clash you can't overlook here. The "superior" Chinese mother in my life had a strictly results driven, merit based mindset and a heavy emphasis on test scores, achievements and report cards being able to show that her daughter was better than everyone else in the class -- which in turn was a reflection on her success as a parent. However, the environment in which she raised us in was a different country. One that she has honestly never gotten used to or felt comfortable in living in. To her, the idea of having her children become "Americanized" was looked down upon as failure. The idea of allowing a more flexible stance, a softer tone or an expression of individualism was out of the question. This duality of living in a very "Chinese" household and going to school where our American teachers taught us to be free thinking and creative were constantly at odds with each other growing up.
Drawing from personal experience, the reason why I don't feel this works is because I've seen an outcome that Amy Chua, the author fails to address or perhaps has yet to experience.
My big sister was what I used to jealously call "every Asian parent's wet dream come true" (excuse the crassness, but it really does sum up the resentment I used to feel towards her). She got straight As. Skipped 5th grade. Perfect SAT score. Varsity swim team. Student council. Advanced level piano. Harvard early admission. An international post with the Boston Consulting Group in Hong Kong before returning to the U.S. for her Harvard MBA. Six figure salary. Oracle. Peoplesoft. Got engaged to a PhD. Bought a home. Got married.
Her life summed up in one paragraph above.
Her death summed up in one paragraph below.
Committed suicide a month after her wedding at the age of 30 after hiding her depression for 2 years. She ran a plastic tube from the tailpipe of her car into the window. Sat there and died of carbon monoxide poisoning in the garage of her new home in San Francisco. Her husband found her after coming home from work. A post-it note stuck on the dashboard as her suicide note saying sorry and that she loved everyone.
Mine is an extreme example of course. But 6 years since her passing, I can tell you that the notion of the "superior Chinese mother" that my mom carried with her also died with my sister on October 28, 2004. If you were to ask my mom today if this style of parenting worked for her, she'll point to a few boxes of report cards, trophies, piano books, photo albums and Harvard degrees and gladly trade it all to have my sister back.
For every success story that has resulted from the "Chinese mothers" style of parenting, there are chapters that have yet to unfold. The author can speak to her example of how it's worked for her but it'll be interesting to see how long you can keep that gig up and pass it down until something gives.
As a responsibility to herself as a "superior Chinese mother", I think Amy Chua should do a bit of research outside her comfort zone and help readers understand why Asian-American females have one of the highest rates of suicide in the U.S. -- I bet many of you didn't know that. I didn't until after the fact. It'd make a good follow up book to this one she's currently profiting from.
***
A few years ago I got up the guts to begin sharing the story of my sister because the more I learned about depression and suicide following her death, I found myself growing increasingly frustrated with the stigma of depression in our society. I was also shocked to learn that Asian-American females had one of the highest suicide rates in the U.S.
http://www.pacificcitizen
I have personally helped 2 young women in the last few years who reached out to me as a result of sharing my story. Both the "perfect" daughters of "superior Chinese mothers" who were sharp Ivy League grads hiding their depression from their families and friends. I was also able to play a role in preventing the suicide of a friend of mine several months ago because of the awareness I've developed about depression and suicide since my sister's passing.
I want to clarify again that my sister's story is an extreme example that hits home for me. I'm not trying to say that strict "Chinese mother" style parenting was solely the cause that lead to her depression and suicide nor will it result in all kids burning out later on in life.
But I do hope it shows that this parenting style isn't a proven template that results in all kids turning into the success stories that author Amy Chua gives herself credit for raising.
*media: please note this answer is marked "not for reproduction"
UPDATE 1/9: I emailed author Amy Chua
this evening (1/9). Expressed my disappointment about the WSJ piece and
pointed to this Quora thread. To my surprise I received a prompt reply
from her that said:
Well, the editor at the WSJ who made up the headline ...and her publisher must be happy at all the buzz and traffic this excerpt has gotten. Unfortunately, I think it comes at the expense of being able to get across the "nuance" she speaks of and definitely doesn't indicate that she has since retreated from the "strict Chinese immigrant" model we're all debating. Clearly it's because we're all expected to buy the book. I get it. Hit a nerve. Drive traffic to WSJ. Make her look evil. Penguin sells books. She gets a cut and gets to say she was just kidding about being a superior Chinese mother. Everyone profits there. Is that the play? Whatever.
UPDATE 1/13:
It appears that the author is making her rounds in the U.S. media with a softer tone and accusing WSJ of misrepresenting her. Great strategy. Looks like it's working. Meanwhile, friends in China share that the Chinese version of her book is out soon via CITIC. Chinese title reads: "Being a Mother in America" -- Again, I have to give her credit. She plays both sides well. See link below. (h/t @goldkorn via Twitter)
China version. Slightly different cover art from the U.S. version if i'm not mistaken. Maybe she'll claim she had no idea about the Chinese title too. I'm sure sales will do well in China. No shortage of Chinese mothers who dream of being able to raise their child in the U.S. and see them become "successful"
http://t.sina.com.cn/1788
Here's my take on it. My family immigrated to the U.S. from Taiwan in the 70s. My mother was a stay at home mom raising 4 kids and was stereotypical strict. I lived in that household where getting a B on your report card was a sign of failure. A lot of focus and pressure was placed on the first child - my older sister - in the hopes that she would set an example for the rest of us. In a very painful hindsight I think you can say too much emphasis was placed on molding my sister into the example my mother wanted the rest of us to follow. I don't blame her as she did the best she could to raise us in the U.S. in the style that she was raised ...in Taiwan.
There's a culture clash you can't overlook here. The "superior" Chinese mother in my life had a strictly results driven, merit based mindset and a heavy emphasis on test scores, achievements and report cards being able to show that her daughter was better than everyone else in the class -- which in turn was a reflection on her success as a parent. However, the environment in which she raised us in was a different country. One that she has honestly never gotten used to or felt comfortable in living in. To her, the idea of having her children become "Americanized" was looked down upon as failure. The idea of allowing a more flexible stance, a softer tone or an expression of individualism was out of the question. This duality of living in a very "Chinese" household and going to school where our American teachers taught us to be free thinking and creative were constantly at odds with each other growing up.
Drawing from personal experience, the reason why I don't feel this works is because I've seen an outcome that Amy Chua, the author fails to address or perhaps has yet to experience.
My big sister was what I used to jealously call "every Asian parent's wet dream come true" (excuse the crassness, but it really does sum up the resentment I used to feel towards her). She got straight As. Skipped 5th grade. Perfect SAT score. Varsity swim team. Student council. Advanced level piano. Harvard early admission. An international post with the Boston Consulting Group in Hong Kong before returning to the U.S. for her Harvard MBA. Six figure salary. Oracle. Peoplesoft. Got engaged to a PhD. Bought a home. Got married.
Her life summed up in one paragraph above.
Her death summed up in one paragraph below.
Committed suicide a month after her wedding at the age of 30 after hiding her depression for 2 years. She ran a plastic tube from the tailpipe of her car into the window. Sat there and died of carbon monoxide poisoning in the garage of her new home in San Francisco. Her husband found her after coming home from work. A post-it note stuck on the dashboard as her suicide note saying sorry and that she loved everyone.
Mine is an extreme example of course. But 6 years since her passing, I can tell you that the notion of the "superior Chinese mother" that my mom carried with her also died with my sister on October 28, 2004. If you were to ask my mom today if this style of parenting worked for her, she'll point to a few boxes of report cards, trophies, piano books, photo albums and Harvard degrees and gladly trade it all to have my sister back.
For every success story that has resulted from the "Chinese mothers" style of parenting, there are chapters that have yet to unfold. The author can speak to her example of how it's worked for her but it'll be interesting to see how long you can keep that gig up and pass it down until something gives.
As a responsibility to herself as a "superior Chinese mother", I think Amy Chua should do a bit of research outside her comfort zone and help readers understand why Asian-American females have one of the highest rates of suicide in the U.S. -- I bet many of you didn't know that. I didn't until after the fact. It'd make a good follow up book to this one she's currently profiting from.
***
A few years ago I got up the guts to begin sharing the story of my sister because the more I learned about depression and suicide following her death, I found myself growing increasingly frustrated with the stigma of depression in our society. I was also shocked to learn that Asian-American females had one of the highest suicide rates in the U.S.
http://www.pacificcitizen
I have personally helped 2 young women in the last few years who reached out to me as a result of sharing my story. Both the "perfect" daughters of "superior Chinese mothers" who were sharp Ivy League grads hiding their depression from their families and friends. I was also able to play a role in preventing the suicide of a friend of mine several months ago because of the awareness I've developed about depression and suicide since my sister's passing.
I want to clarify again that my sister's story is an extreme example that hits home for me. I'm not trying to say that strict "Chinese mother" style parenting was solely the cause that lead to her depression and suicide nor will it result in all kids burning out later on in life.
But I do hope it shows that this parenting style isn't a proven template that results in all kids turning into the success stories that author Amy Chua gives herself credit for raising.
*media: please note this answer is marked "not for reproduction"
UPDATE 1/9: I emailed author Amy Chua
this evening (1/9). Expressed my disappointment about the WSJ piece and
pointed to this Quora thread. To my surprise I received a prompt reply
from her that said:
Dear [redacted]: Thank you for taking the time to write me, and I'm
so sorry about your sister. I did not choose the title of the WSJ
excerpt, and I don't believe that there is only one good way of raising
children. The actual book is more nuanced, and much of it is about
my decision to retreat from the "strict Chinese immigrant"
model.
Best of luck to you,
Amy Chua
Well, the editor at the WSJ who made up the headline ...and her publisher must be happy at all the buzz and traffic this excerpt has gotten. Unfortunately, I think it comes at the expense of being able to get across the "nuance" she speaks of and definitely doesn't indicate that she has since retreated from the "strict Chinese immigrant" model we're all debating. Clearly it's because we're all expected to buy the book. I get it. Hit a nerve. Drive traffic to WSJ. Make her look evil. Penguin sells books. She gets a cut and gets to say she was just kidding about being a superior Chinese mother. Everyone profits there. Is that the play? Whatever.
UPDATE 1/13:
It appears that the author is making her rounds in the U.S. media with a softer tone and accusing WSJ of misrepresenting her. Great strategy. Looks like it's working. Meanwhile, friends in China share that the Chinese version of her book is out soon via CITIC. Chinese title reads: "Being a Mother in America" -- Again, I have to give her credit. She plays both sides well. See link below. (h/t @goldkorn via Twitter)
China version. Slightly different cover art from the U.S. version if i'm not mistaken. Maybe she'll claim she had no idea about the Chinese title too. I'm sure sales will do well in China. No shortage of Chinese mothers who dream of being able to raise their child in the U.S. and see them become "successful"
http://t.sina.com.cn/1788
Daniel Shi,
Views
In defense of Chinese mothers
It can really suck being a Chinese kid with a Chinese mom. I remember being scared of going home when I got a B+ in Algebra. I had to record my piano playing in a tape recorder so that my mom would know I practiced when she wasn't home. I definitely was not allowed to have any videogames.
But you know what? My white friend down the street used to get $50 from his parents when he got a C in a class because he "passed." I remember being "OMG, WTF?"
But now he's on his 7th year of community college and I am getting my MBA at an Ivy League school. I didn't play videogames when I was a kid, but I was able to buy my own Xbox 360 with the signing bonus from my first job. Thank goodness my mother pushed me.
But there was something that was different and critical if you want to go down the Chinese mom route: love your kids and let them know that you love them, no matter what.
In recent years, when I compare notes with my Chinese American friends and peers, one thing I consistently hear was the lack of love from their parents, or that the love was conditional on success. I never had that. My parents loved me no matter what and they made that clear, not just in words, but in actions. Despite every time I got scolded (man, the English word for scold, which is the correct translation, does not begin to really capture the hurricane of verbal abuse a Chinese woman is capable of), it would hurt and build resentment, but I could never look back and not see it coming from love and hopeful expectation for my future. Everything that they did, every sacrifice that they made, was to give me a better future than the past that they came from.
My folks left a lucrative professional practice in medicine in China so that we could come to the US. I am now nearing the age when my parents moved to the US. As I invest more and more into my own career, it is becoming starkly clear the kind of sacrifice that they made to come here, and how much it cost them, and would cost me.
It didn't really take until I was 16. I don't think it was a coincidence that I became more serious in my Christian faith around that time as well. But once I realized that what I saw as "craziness" came from my mother's undying love and devotion to me and my wellbeing, I think that changed things. If you are going thru life thinking the love of your parents is conditional on your performance, you will be messed up, for sure. Whether you are Chinese, Caucasian, whatever. And I think it is necessary to understand that there is an aspect of duty to family that is inseparable from traditional conceptions of love and devotion between parent and child. As a 1.5 generation kid growing up in the US, it was so hard to understand just what that meant.
So I think the key takeaway I would offer is:
Have high expectations for your children and push them to achieve them. But never make your love for them dependent on the outcome.
Honestly, I love my mom, despite everything she put me thru. Now that I am older, I can better understand who she is and the fears and anxieties that she has in life. It makes me better appreciate that aspect of my childhood and what I want for my kids.
It can really suck being a Chinese kid with a Chinese mom. I remember being scared of going home when I got a B+ in Algebra. I had to record my piano playing in a tape recorder so that my mom would know I practiced when she wasn't home. I definitely was not allowed to have any videogames.
But you know what? My white friend down the street used to get $50 from his parents when he got a C in a class because he "passed." I remember being "OMG, WTF?"
But now he's on his 7th year of community college and I am getting my MBA at an Ivy League school. I didn't play videogames when I was a kid, but I was able to buy my own Xbox 360 with the signing bonus from my first job. Thank goodness my mother pushed me.
But there was something that was different and critical if you want to go down the Chinese mom route: love your kids and let them know that you love them, no matter what.
In recent years, when I compare notes with my Chinese American friends and peers, one thing I consistently hear was the lack of love from their parents, or that the love was conditional on success. I never had that. My parents loved me no matter what and they made that clear, not just in words, but in actions. Despite every time I got scolded (man, the English word for scold, which is the correct translation, does not begin to really capture the hurricane of verbal abuse a Chinese woman is capable of), it would hurt and build resentment, but I could never look back and not see it coming from love and hopeful expectation for my future. Everything that they did, every sacrifice that they made, was to give me a better future than the past that they came from.
My folks left a lucrative professional practice in medicine in China so that we could come to the US. I am now nearing the age when my parents moved to the US. As I invest more and more into my own career, it is becoming starkly clear the kind of sacrifice that they made to come here, and how much it cost them, and would cost me.
It didn't really take until I was 16. I don't think it was a coincidence that I became more serious in my Christian faith around that time as well. But once I realized that what I saw as "craziness" came from my mother's undying love and devotion to me and my wellbeing, I think that changed things. If you are going thru life thinking the love of your parents is conditional on your performance, you will be messed up, for sure. Whether you are Chinese, Caucasian, whatever. And I think it is necessary to understand that there is an aspect of duty to family that is inseparable from traditional conceptions of love and devotion between parent and child. As a 1.5 generation kid growing up in the US, it was so hard to understand just what that meant.
So I think the key takeaway I would offer is:
Have high expectations for your children and push them to achieve them. But never make your love for them dependent on the outcome.
Honestly, I love my mom, despite everything she put me thru. Now that I am older, I can better understand who she is and the fears and anxieties that she has in life. It makes me better appreciate that aspect of my childhood and what I want for my kids.
