by Julianne Hing
My Asian-American friends and I shared the Wall Street Journal's weekend excerpt from Amy Chua's from her parenting memoir, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, with a mixture of incredulity and survivor's pride. One friend jokingly said the article had triggered flashbacks of traumatic, long-blocked memories.
The piece has an unfortunate headline: "Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior." In it, Chua recounts her decision to raise her two daughters Sophia and Louisa the "Chinese way," and not give in to the inevitable "family decline" that befalls immigrant families. Here's how it usually goes: immigrant parents arrive in America and work tireless lives of sacrifice to open up every educational opportunity to their children, who repay their debt to their parents by becoming high-achieving attorneys and physicians and engineers. But the next generation of kids grow up spoiled by Western notions of self-actualization, and throw away generations of hard work to become idealistic artists, and organizers, and reporters. It's a familiar storyline for those acquainted with tired model minority stereotypes.
Chua's method included strict rules--no sleepovers, no television, only straight As, mandatory musical instruments--and a sick mixture of threats and taunts. Chua wrote:
Chinese parents can get away with things that Western parents can't. Once when I was young--maybe more than once--when I was extremely disrespectful to my mother, my father angrily called me "garbage" in our native Hokkien dialect. It worked really well. I felt terrible and deeply ashamed of what I had done. But it didn't damage my self-esteem or anything like that. I knew exactly how highly he thought of me. I didn't actually think I was worthless or feel like a piece of garbage.
As an adult, I once did the same thing to Sophia, calling her garbage in English when she acted extremely disrespectfully toward me. When I mentioned that I had done this at a dinner party, I was immediately ostracized. One guest named Marcy got so upset she broke down in tears and had to leave early. My friend Susan, the host, tried to rehabilitate me with the remaining guests.
Extreme to say the least. Chua's tone is arrogant but filled just the same with bullseye observations, and I spent a long time trying to untangle the sincere from the deadpan. So much of the piece is an accurate reflection of a specific brand of hard-ass Asian parenting. But would other people be able to sense the gleeful embellishments in her piece, the way she seems to relish insulting and threatening her kids to get them to perform? And then I doubled back: was I being too charitable to read it as exaggeration?