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| Photo by Harlanh |
Asian parents don’t like to tell their kids “I love you.” Or how wonderful they are. At least mine don’t.
It’s not because my mother and father didn’t love me or wasn’t proud of me. It was just their way. Like many Asian parents, they believed if they criticized us or pointed out our mistakes, we would work our hardest to improve.
Perfection was expected. They set the bar high. That’s probably why so many of Asian-Americans are geeks or nerds (so the stereotypes say). Heck, even Glee did an episode about the “Asian F” (it’s an A minus).
Never once during my school years did I hear my parents tell me how great I was doing or how proud they were of me. As a first generation Asian-American, I grew up expecting my parents to behave like my classmates’ parents. My classmates received gifts for A’s on their report cards. They got to go on trips for passing a test with a B.
Me? I got a stern look and “You need to do better” speech if I brought home a B or A minus. Where was my trip to Disneyworld?
I went through my school years doing everything I could to earn their approval and, in my teenage eyes, their love. I joined almost every non-athletic organization in my high school. AND was active in most of them, even becoming president of my drama club. I took the hardest classes available at my small school and ruined the grading curve for everyone else. (I visited several years ago and students still mention my name in awe-weird, huh?) It never seemed to be enough.
I graduated high school as class valedictorian (no bragging here, just facts), but despaired because I didn’t have a perfect 4.0 GPA. (It was something like 3.986-just one B totally ruined it!) My teachers and classmate congratulated me on my high school career, but still I thought I failed my parents. I don’t remember hearing them say, “Great job! Keep it up!” If I got a 98 out a 100 on a test, it was always “Do better.” I desperately wanted to hear them tell me just once, “You’re amazing!” or “We love you even if you get B’s.”
Now that I’m older, I understand. As a teenager, I applied Western expectations on them. It was not how Vietnamese parents acted with their children. Their job was to provide us with food, shelter and the knowledge between right and wrong. The criticism was meant to encourage us to do better. They were tiger parents before it became hip. We didn’t get praise for excelling because it was expected of us to excel. Failure was not an option.
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| Photo by lxavian |
I remember one of the moments when I realized my mother was proud of me. She’s worked with her hands all her life. Without a high school diploma, her employment options were limited. She spent decades working as a seamstress for a local department store. (She’s self-taught and uber talented!) I was never allowed to touch her sewing machine and she never offered to teach me. I was hurt by this as a teenager. I think it was her hope that I become a professional and not a blue collar worker like her or my dad.
Much to her horror (I’m guessing on this), I majored in costume design for the theatre in college. I learned how to sew in college and improved my skills at my summer jobs. I got pretty darn good, I have to say. I don’t remember what I was sewing, but one summer in between jobs and college, I made a garment on her sewing machine.
As she watched me work the sewing machine, I could see a glimmer in her eye. She was proud of me! I was like the Grinch that day. My heart grew three sizes. The next Christmas she gifted with my very own sewing machine and the following Christmas I received a serger.
Now that I’m older, far removed from my teenage angst, I can tell when they are proud of me all along. They left Vietnam to start their lives from scratch so I could do better than them. They don’t say it, but I can see in their eyes and their body language. I might not be the engineer or doctor they wished I would be, but they are amazed at what I’ve accomplished. They are extremely proud of me.
I vow never to withhold well deserved praise for my kids. I’m Asian but I’m also American too. I’ll keep the bar high for my kids, but they will always know I’m there for them. And that I’m proud of them.
What about you? Did your parents dole out praise sparingly?
This post was inspired by Lost Edens by Jamie Patterson. Trying to save an unhealthy marriage, Jamie seeks perfection so she will earn her husband’s approval.
In Lost Edens, author Jamie Patterson struggles to save her marriage which may or may not be already over. Keeping her attempts a secret from her family, she tries to mold herself into the wife her husband wants her to be. As a member of From Left to Write book club, I received a copy of this book for review. You can read other members posts inspired by Lost Edens by Jamie Patterson on book club day, October 27 at From Left to Write.
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