When I told my parents I wanted to switch my major from Biology to English, they were skeptical. Writing is a notoriously difficult field to succeed in, my Chinese father reminded me. The medical profession has much more security and stability, and being a doctor is an extremely respected and honorable field, my Asian mom said. Of course, I knew all of that because they’d told me this many times.
Nevertheless, they gave me their blessing.
I went to an infamously competitive, high-achieving high school with a student body that was 70% Asian. A lot of my peers joked about how stereotypical we were and often complained about our strict, academic-focused Asian/Chinese parents. It seemed clear that most of us would declare STEM majors (or something else that was deemed prestigious by our culture, like pre-law). I myself took Chinese summer school and piano lessons as a child as well as SAT prep classes and an irrational number of AP classes in high school (though, that was actually on me—my parents were worried and told me to take less).
In essence, any lame joke you can make, my Chinese classmates and I did. I thought I was pretty familiar with all the stereotypes until I reached my senior year of high school. It was the first time I heard that it was common for East Asian parents to not tell their kids “I love you,” and I was shocked.
I don’t doubt that’s a real experience for some young Asian-Americans. We’re not a monolith, so our experiences are diverse. For example, I’ve only killed two people in kung fu showdowns. But both my parents tell me “I love you” all the time. My grandmother calls me every night for 15 seconds, just to say she loves me. Of course, I don’t want to minimize the experiences of my peers who haven’t been as lucky as I feel.
Child abuse is a real issue in many cultures, not just the East Asian community. But not every Chinese dad is an abusive, controlling patriarch. Not every Asian mother is an ultra-repressive tiger mom with impossible standards like straight As, Ivy League colleges, and 6 hours of violin practice everyday. Some Asian parents do tell their kids they love them, do tell their kids they’re proud of them, and do tell their kids they’ll support their impractical, non-STEM dreams. Like mine.
Mama and Papa, I totally understand where you were coming from when you were doubtful. In fact, I think you’re right to worry sometimes. That’s why it means so much to me that you did eventually come around. I know you made so many sacrifices and overcame so many challenges; you started over in a new country so we could have better lives. I don’t take those sacrifices lightly—they’re actually why I’m so determined to take the utmost advantage of all the opportunities you gave me and to pursue my dreams. If my dreams don’t pan out, then I’ll adjust. I’ll be practical. I’ll survive, like you. I learned from the best in that regard. I’ll keep trying. It’s only because of you that I could have the opportunity to try, and I’m not going to give that up lightly. I won’t let you down. You’ve never let me down, and I won’t let you down.
I’ve mostly dedicated this letter to my parents, because “super-strict and controlling Asian parents” is one of my least favorite stereotypes that I want to address, and because they deserve it. I would also like to say that my entire extended Chinese family has been super supportive. Aunts, uncles, cousins, my amazing grandfather and brother—you all know.
I think you’ll understand if I single out one other person, as a contradiction to my least favorite Asian stereotype: the subservient Chinese woman who needs a white guy to save her. My grandmother—a very proud, traditional, strong, and loving Chinese woman— took charge, earned money to support her family, and didn’t take s*** from anybody. Tiger mom? Actually, that’s not a bad name when it’s attached to the right idea.
There’s a Chinese proverb, “Vicious as a tigress may be, she never eats her own cubs.”
Thanks, Mama. Thanks, Papa. Thanks, Umma.
I love you.