Paper Tiger Mom

It’s easy to hate Amy Chua right now. If her intention was to garner publicity for her book by writing a controversial article for the Wall Street Journal, she has succeeded.

Her article has spawned several follow up WSJ articles. From “Western mothers” like Ayelet Waldman and Hanna Rosin to interviews with mothers in Hong Kong, the response has been negative to gently understanding. Amy has also ignited the blogosphere (Asian American and beyond) through heated posts and comments about her article and book. Cynthia Liu’s post at Rice Daddies lists some of the other bloggers with something to say about Amy’s article.

Like Cynthia I’ve been writing about “this” for some time now. While I am not a fan of “free range” parenting as advocated by educator Alfie Kohn, I am also not a fan of what has been stereotypically depicted – and widely accepted – even by Asians - as “Asian parenting” by people like Amy Chua and the Kim sisters. Bullying and denigrating your children are not acts exclusive to Asian parents - Just as academic success is not exclusive to their children (or are they immune to academic failure).

I shudder when I am reminded of how close I was to becoming “Chua Chinese” (Please Note: I am using Chinese as defined by Amy) – a Chinese parent so obsessed with controlling the ends there is no thought given to the consequences of the means. Despite my background as an educator and having actual classroom teaching experience, once my eldest entered Pre-K I fell easily in line with what I perceived as the tenets of being a “proper” parent molding “proper” and successful children.

I would be a full Chua Chinese parent if I hadn’t just by chance seen Jack Neo’s movies: I Not Stupid and I Not Stupid Too. There is a scene in the former where a mother on the advice of her coworkers beats her son with a switch because he failed to score to her satisfaction on a test. The crying boy begs, “Please mommy don’t hit me anymore…” The scene is particularly poignant because the actress playing the mother does a good job of conveying her confusion at her actions. She is not sure it is the right way to parent but her peers seem so confident and judge her poorly for not doing it (so she does it).

The latter film is poignant because it begins by putting the following question up on the screen: When was the last time you told your kids you loved them? I read that Jack Neo, the film’s writer, director, and actor, was deeply affected by Zhou Hong’s philosophy of Appreciation Education when he was writing the sequel’s script. It shows. It overtly restates Hong’s descriptions of Appreciation Education.

What Chua Chinese parents don’t tell you is the fate of those children whose wills prove too hard to break. I Not Stupid Too touches upon it but it is Royston Tan’s 15 that explores it. Royston Tan’s 15 takes a close (though overly stylistic) look at gang life in Singapore, a country that identifies the cognitive capacity of its citizens as its greatest natural resource.

There are Chinese who exist and thrive outside of the harsh world of the Chua Chinese. Asian students whose wills may have been broken by their parents but who as a result did not fall into the next buckets their parents have set out. Instead these broken wills found healing ointment in street gangs and other subcultures.

The "Chinese" that Chua refers to no longer exists as she understood them. China is changing. The Chinese are changing! And that impacts both Chua Chinese parents and "loser" (Chua's words) Chinese parents like me who seek a connection with an ethnic heritage from which to build and evolve our children’s sense of themselves.

It’s easy for me to point fingers. It’s easy for me to blame Chua and her disciples for perpetuating social stereotypes and ignoring the truth of the matter. But it is not right. I have confessed to my own “coercion." Like Ayelet I feel guilty about it sometimes but that doesn’t always stop me. When all is said and done, I'd like to believe that all parents want what's best for their children. The challenge is putting our egos aside and getting out of our comfort zones to really understand why we tell our children what we do. Parenting is like teaching – to excel and become successful at it means you - like your children - do not stop learning.

Dear Asian America: Forget Chua’s Book, This is Our “It Gets Better” Moment

Guest post by Cynthia Liu, originally published at K-12 News Network

Dear Asian America,

As so many have pointed out through gut-wrenching personal testimony and the horrible statistics surrounding high suicide rates among young APA women–and a high rate of untreated mental illness in our community overall–Amy Chua‘s book hit a nerve. Big time.

But, let’s make this flood of commentary and outrage NOT about Chua’s book, but about the damage a certain kind of patriarchal, homophobic, and authoritarian, high-stakes parenting can do.

Yes, I said homophobic. The narrowness and rigidity of what makes for the Right School, the Right (Ethnicity) Mate, the Right Job…you don’t think it ends there, do you?

Let’s face it, if a parent feels no limits on yelling, belittling, and coercing a kid into high achievement because the ends justify the means, what’s to stop that parent from issuing beatings in the name of the greater good? Because many who harshly discipline their kids say they use corporal punishment for the same reasons–out of love. I’m not saying everyone who experienced corporal punishment is permanently psychically damaged. No. But I am saying that as with any parenting method that is harsh to begin with, extremes of emotional and physical abuse cannot be far behind.

And let’s also face this fact: many in our community may be book smart, but many also have a low Emotional Intelligence Quotient. This ranges from a lack of expressiveness, to parenting that is bullying and insensitive, to social awkwardness and a failure to know how to shmooze.

There’s a dark side to Asian Pacific America. The intensity of immigrant aspiration can feed it just as much as it feeds our other sides.

And there’s also a highly functional, balanced, warm, demanding, and nurturing kind of enlightened APA parenting. One that focuses on each child as a unique person and that is lovingly demanding of that’s child’s best, whether it’s at school, at a sport, in the arts, or as an ethical, caring human being.

Many of us, having had tough adolescences or periods in college where it took a while to sort things out, are now parents. And we’re resolved to improve upon the good and the bad that we inherited. So what does that enlightened APA parenting look like?

I’ll tell you a secret: I agree with Amy Chua on a couple of things. We don’t watch tv in our household. (Dvds, yes, but no tv.) Homework comes first. Pay attention to what the teacher asks for, because you will have to deliver according to the standards they set. You WILL learn a second language. But otherwise? Have fun. Read for pleasure. Go outside and climb a tree, or something. Enjoy traveling when we go to new places, because whiny kids can just as easily sit at home. Don’t you want to draw or paint? Stick with the guitar for at least a year–you’ll thank me when you’re 15. Pick something and excel at it. Pick something you love, and do it regardless of how good you are at it.

If Amy Chua’s failed experiment in implementing 1960s Confucian parenting methods isn’t the way, what is?

I’ve been blogging about this since 2003, when my son was born. At that time, after lots of discussion with my spouse, also Asian Pacific American, we decided that we would try non-violent parenting. So far, it’s worked out well for us. Our son is extremely close to the both of us. There’s a tremendous sense of trust. All our physical contact (including my husband with my son, of course) is hugging, kissing, and other warm expressions of affection. And I really like this. Hands are for Hugging, don’t you know? (Granted, he’s 7 and the teen years are ahead of us yet, so I’ll let you know how that goes.)

But I’m asking you–affluent parents plotting how to get your kindergartener into Stanford, working class parents wondering how to get your kid into Bronx Science–how will we all encourage our kids to excel at being themselves? And do it without breaking them?

We’ve all heard President Obama’s warning that the country that out-educates us tomorrow will out-perform us tomorrow. (I’ve always maintained he’s the first Asian American president, much in the same way that Bill Clinton was the first black president.)

But let’s not go nuts trying to respond to President Obama’s observation.

Here’s our chance to raise our Emotional Intelligence Quotients. This is our “It Gets Better” moment, so to speak. How can we widen what we understand as excellence? Achievement? And happiness? And still equip our kids with whatever skills they need to not only survive, but thrive in an unpredictable and fast-changing world?

Go. (You don’t have to be Asian American to leave a comment.)

Other APA blogs on this subject:

Betty Ming Liu

Rice Daddies: Keith Chow

Big WoWo

Ray Kwong

Christine Lu

Shanghaiist and here

Resist Racism

Racialicious

ChinaHearsay

Kohn Head

[Cross posted at Cranial Gunk]

Whenever the subject of Asian parents and discipline comes up, I think of Russell Peters’ skit about his dad and spankings.

BigWOWO posted a reaction to Alfie Kohn’s article on “unconditional parenting.” As Daniel Willingham aptly points out, Alfie Kohn “has made a virtual industry out of finding interesting and provocative insights” on education and child development. On the Britannica blog (Yes, the encyclopedia people), the comments to Kohn’s reaction to Willingham’s reaction to his work is the best indication of how successful he is at what he does.

I don’t believe his critics. In fact, I agree with most of Kohn’s initial assertions. He’s right when he says that parents should love their children unconditionally. He makes a good point in his criticism of the Supernanny. Her solutions do seem superficial and temporary. And I do agree that homework for homework’s sake is counterproductive. The purpose of homework is to practice skills (both newly acquired and existing).

I like the ideas of student-directed curriculum and child-centered parenting. The former being the consideration of students’ interests and concerns in the application of classroom curriculum. The latter being the inclusion of the child’s voice in serious family decisions.

However, as practice they are flawed. Student-directed and child-centered approaches place premature burdens on the audience they seek to serve. Children do not yet have the life experiences for the cognition Kohn is demanding of them. In the case of the former, consistently appealing to a child’s interest does not provide him or her with the strategies needed to contend with moments of tedium or instances when other’s interests supersede his or her own. Without strategies for tedium, the child will most likely give up when a problem is too hard and he or she feels bored and frustrated.

In the latter, the child is thrown into a sink-or-swim situation. Without the prior experiences to navigate the nuances of social relationships or the powers at play, children can easily make potentially harmful decisions. Or they are simply expected “to know” without reasonable preparation or experience. It is the difference between asking a five year old: “Do you know why what you did was wrong?” and telling that five year old: “What you did was wrong because XYZ could have gotten hurt.”

Kohn was the daddy I wanted when I was 13. The permissive daddy who never shouted and never spanked. Who would coo and coddle me even when I failed my tests. My Baba is the daddy I am happy I got at 21. Unlike a Kohn Daddy, my Baba set down rules and helped me understand that rationality and morality were subjective. They rely heavily on a person’s cultural sensibilities and understanding of the world. And the world is often very Kafka-esque, possessed of a hermetic logic.

Now, a father myself, I have an even greater respect for the sacrifices my parents made for me. And I don't mean material sacrifices. I mean the emotional ones of denying me a car when I was a teenager because they knew I liked to go out and more often than not over do it in libations. I hated them at the time but now it's different. Now I have a context for the past. Now I realize that they made tough choices and placed themselves in the roles of villains because they were guarding my well being and nurturing my potential.

I believe our children depend on us to make decisions when they are either unprepared to or unwilling to. They depend on us as parents to willingly be the bad guys for their greater good. I am not a fan of “free range” parenting promoted by Kohn. And I can’t help wondering how many of the college students Assor, Roth, and Deci interviewed were culturally Asian. I bring culture up because I wonder if the interviewee's feelings of estrangement are consequences of something other than their failures or a lack of coddling.

“Gwoye Fan”

[Cross posted at Cranial Gunk]

When you make fried rice, you use rice that’s been in the fridge overnight (“gwoye faan” in Cantonese). You don’t use fresh rice right out of the cooker.

The other thing you don’t do when making fried rice is you don’t cook everything all together, all at once. I mean you can, but I’m pretty sure my Dad would give you his patented WTF-look. It’s not a look of anger or reproach. It’s more on the lines of “if you’re not going to do it right, please step out of my kitchen.”

It’s been so long since I posted to Rice Daddies that it didn’t feel right to repost or cross-post something from Cranial Gunk (my personal blog). Happily, other Rice Daddies have been composing some really thoughtful pieces and sharing some really interesting links. I tried to leave comments on the posts that really struck me, but had too much to say for just a line or two.

So here I am with my gwoye faan, my eggs, spring onions, and my Birds Eye Classic Mixed Vegetables, to make you some of my Dad’s “chaau faan.”

How do other Rice Daddies feel about Jon Gosselin? I think he is making some very foolish decisions right now in a belated effort to assert his identity and redirect the course his family has taken. I feel that a lot of unflattering reports are a result of his being a public figure without a savvy public relations team.

Obiwanhavanese posted about his anxieties regarding his son not learning his parents’ native language. I’ve also had the same fears. Currently, despite starting early with my eldest, we cannot say that he speaks Chinese. He remembers numbers and a phrase here and there but not well enough to actually use them with any automaticity.

However, it’s not his problem or his brother’s. It’s our problem, their mother and mine. The children want to learn but among the hindrances is the fact that neither their mother or I speak Mandarin (the Chinese that their mother and my parents say the kids should learn). Their mother speaks Vietnamese and I speak Cantonese. My parents (native Cantonese speakers) speak a little Mandarin but are not fluent enough to help the children learn. In fact, part of the problem is that my own Asian-born immigrant parents prefer to speak English to the children!

Malcolm Gladwell spends a good deal of Outliers speaking to the impact of “cultural legacy” in shaping success and Karen the Californian alludes to the social expectations of an Asian face mouthing Asian words. While I maintain my belief that learning Chinese is important for my children, I also acknowledge language is only one cultural transmitter. Language helps but there are other ways to perpetuate a cultural legacy.

In the opening of Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake, a pregnant Indian woman living in Boston, combines

Rice Krispies and Planters peanuts and chopped red onion in a bowl. She adds salt, lemon juice, thin slices of green chili pepper, wishing there were mustard oil to pour into the mix… a humble approximation of a snack sold of pennies on Calcutta sidewalks.

There are differences between Asian culture and Asian American culture. Food is another cultural transmitter. Lahiri’s description of a woman’s attempt to recall her home country through a self-concocted recipe is an example of this difference.

Now let’s go back to Jon. Current circus aside, there was a painful episode of Jon & Kate Plus 8 where he “teaches” his children about his culture. Jon’s mother is Korean (which brings up the interesting question – Why doesn’t he assume his father’s culture as his culture?)

I agree with Racialious, the episode was atrocious and upsetting because it promoted several Asian stereotypes. In this day and age, it is not outrageous to expect both Jon and Kate to be more racially sensitive. In the show, Jon talks to the camera about his “culture.” I wonder if he identifies himself as an Asian American or if the designation was put upon him by the show’s producers seeking to expand the show’s demographics?

Back to Obiwanhavanese’s dilemma, as Asian Americans how important is it for our children to speak our parent’s language? Do you think the Gosselin children will learn Korean? Does their father?

Assuming our children do not speak the ancestral “mother tongue” (it is a given that mine don’t because Mandarin is not my mother’s tongue) can what is lost be replaced by another cultural transmitter?

Part of the challenge of identifying yourself as Asian American is determining which is Asian and which is American? Identifying yourself as Asian American necessitates the establishment of new common “norms,” traditions, or practices that distinguish the categorization from identifying yourself as Asian.

Call Me Ishmael

Listen to this: http://www.wnyc.org/news/articles/128940

He has a point. Why don't we call each other "people, people, and people" or address each other by our names?

The question above closes Beth Fertig's report featuring students attending the International High School in Prospect Heights, Brooklyn. She had asked the students to consider Amsterdam's classification of all non-European origin as black. She asks them how they refer to themselves as "Americans"?

The students answered the way I have answered in the past. Why can't I "be both"? Asian (more specifically Chinese) and American. I can call myself "Chinese American." But older now I wonder if the description holds any more meaning than just calling myself "American"? What about my children? Physically, they appear Chinese or East Asian but their native language is without question English.

How about the comment one of the students interviewed makes: "We have the right to be called Americans?" I have never thought of being called "American" as a right. Born in the US as the child of new immigrants, I inherited my citizenship and my American surname. Both my parents and my grandparents were naturalized. They had to work towards their citizenship. Perhaps this is an exercise of the cliche about the differences between earning something and just being given it. You are said to appreciate the former much more.

In middle school I clung desperately to the habits I thought made me "American." I preferred hamburgers over rice, Coca Cola over Chrysanthemum tea. In college being American was no longer a medal of pride to me but a badge of shame. I was defiantly Chinese and I wore it on my sleeve.

In addition to the friends I still keep in touch with today, college was a very important step in the development of my "Americanness" (for lack of a better word). Two incidents from that time remain with me:

1. "You don't look American" - Crossing the American-Canadian border at the Rainbow Bridge, a border guard made this comment after asking me to get out of the car and hand him my driver's license. I was with friends. We wanted to go to the Canadian side of the falls to kill some time, take in the new spring air, and grab dinner. My friends were White. I was the only Asian.
2. "You don't act Chinese" - At a party. Talking to a girl. She was cute and smart and I thought we were really starting to click. She made that comment and I just lost interest.

Reading Rice Daddies posts from Metrodad (especially the section, "Putting My Money Where My Mouth Is"), Soccer Dad on Texas Representative, Betty Brown's recommendation that Asians change their names to more familiar Anglo names for the convenience of non-Asians,  and bigWOWO on Disney's current desire to reassert itself as a "cultural force" among boys (the Newsweek article he posted about a Black family adopting a White girl also got me thinking), about the world my children will inherit.

In the news, we are told about the national debt our children will inherit and we are told about what will happen if we don't literally clean up our act in terms of environment. But what kind of society will our children inherit? I am not as naive as to believe that the issues of race and culture in America will ever go away. I can even convince myself that their presence is a catalyst for ongoing conversation and reflection on identity. However, it is no less worrisome.

It would be unfair to deny progress has been made. Surfing network TV there is a greater chance of catching a glimpse of an Asian face speaking English than there was let's say 30 years ago. There is also a greater chance that the Asian face you might glimpse does not know kung fu and is not plotting to take over the world. That Asian face you might glimpse on network TV might even be more than comic relief. This is all progress and I don't want to diminish it. But recent posts from fellow Rice Daddies remind me that as an ethnic community there is still progress to be made.

As we enter Asian American Heritage month, I can't help but wonder What is American? And how does it differ from Asian American? Why is it assumed my perceived Asian habits? mannerisms? beliefs? culture? fall outside of the bucket of characteristics that make something or someone simply American? America as melting pot and mosaic, doesn't my "Asianness" make me uniquely American? Why do I need the surname?

As a Second Generation dad, one that was born here but whose parents were newly immigrated, I have the same challenges my parents did - What to keep and what can be left out of an ethnic identity? Already, my wife and I struggle with language. We both want our children to speak Chinese. However, she wants them to learn Mandarin. I speak passable Cantonese and she speaks Vietnamese. At home, our native tongue is English.

We also suck at celebrating the holidays. Every year despite our best intentions we miss the Autumn Moon festival. We hang decorations for Chinese New Year but have not always followed its customs most of the time out of pure ignorance and forgetfulness.

There is also the reality that no matter what my wife and I do, our children will have their own ideas about their "Asianness." Regardless of what my wife and I try to impart or instill, they will going through their own "editing process" and prioritize the aspects of their ethnic identity. So I am back to wondering about the "right to be called American" and the significance of applying the label "Asian American."

Guest Post: "My Daddy's Girl I Am Not" by Mama Nabi

[We have a lot of women readers. You are our partners, our lovers, the mothers of our children, our mothers, our sisters, our friends. You are Asian American mamas and mothers of the next miscegenated/transracially adopted/panethnic/multiculti Asian American generation, our fellow travelers on this journey called parenthood. And we wouldn't be here, literally and figuratively, without you. Thus, it gives me great honor to be able to repost this meditation-on-the-father-and-child-relationship slash shout-out slash exhortation-to-us-to-get-our-fingers-back-to-the-keyboards by longtime reader/commernter/supporter Mama Nabi from Kimchi Mamas. What'd'ya say, fellas? Shall we step it up a notch?]

Last time I saw my father in person, he and I took a walk around the University of Minnesota campus. We were waiting for our ride to northern Minnesota to attend my sister's wedding. I was grumpy and resentful toward my mother and sister for dumping Dad on me. That was in 1991 and I have not seen him since. 17 years. In the beginning, it was his choice to travel as he pleased without any commitment to family; for about a decade, it is I who have enforced a filial embargo against him.

During my childhood, Dad was "dumped" on me often as Mom took my sister to her various lessons and extracurricular activities. This is how I learned to sit and watch boxing and kung-fu movies... or just sit in a corner and stay quiet. He didn't take me for walks or to playgrounds... Dad is not exactly a proponent of "quality time with your kids". Despite all those potentially bonding moments, Dad and I shared more awkward silences than I have shared with bad dates.

It did not help that whenever I screwed something up or showed my temper, Mom would cluck her tongue and say Just like your father... you can't deny the genes; you are your father. It was the most hurtful thing she could say to me and it stung. I got most of my looks from him - that was bad enough, I didn't want to be like him, be him.

Thus, I read Metrodad's story in KoreAm Journal with much interest. With equal interest (along with sympathies and compassion), I read his tribute to his father-in-law who recently passed away.

Until I went to a boarding school where I met friends who love their dads, I had no idea what a dad's role as a parent could be or should be. I never talked to anyone about my dad. I was ashamed. Embarrassed. As a child, a teenager, I somehow thought it would reflect badly on me, as if I had done something so extremely terrible for my dad to behave as he did. And as an adult, I had my notions of a good father but it barely registered to me that a good father should *gasp* interact with his child.

While I hopped from one blog to another, in hopes of finding similar voices and concerns being an Asian mom in an interracial marriage, I ran into Rice Daddies and read this intro post. Intriguing... dads think about stuff, too? Well, blast them - not only did they reshape my notion of an Asian dad, they made me question my then husband's parenting involvement... or lack thereof. I started to talk about these newfangled daddy-types I found online. I wanted him to get excited about this new resource for him. Hey, these guys are trying to figure out how to be daddies, too. Maybe you might find something in common... Nada. No interest at all. Once I practically forced him to read one of Metrodad's posts - he had asked me to help him look something up online and I told him he had to read this really really funny guy - who happens to be also a daddy.

I won't repeat the exact words he used to denounce MD's humor... it was something to do with letting his daughter eat out of his dog's foodbowl. Suffice to say, we had a mini-argument. He didn't understand what was so fascinating about guys who seemed, to him, a little "too into parenting". I know. You all may close your jaws now. No worries. I am no longer married to him.

So, am I saying that RDs contributed to my divorce? No. Well, just a little. Not in a bad way. I am grateful that they showed me who a DAD is... and what to expect from him. In a way, they are also helping me heal my own dad-daughter wounds and angst. Not just in a way that tells me my father was and is an asshole... because, yes, he is an asshole, period... but also in a way that helps me navigate my own feelings toward forgiveness. Yes. I would like to forgive my father. He was never a daddy to me, perhaps he just didn't know how - although, I know he's been a better father to someone else's children (that's another post) so I am thinking he does know. Whatever his reasons may have been, I would like to one day wake up and decide to lift that filial embargo. And perhaps be there for my Little Nabi as she will have to sort through her own feelings about my ex-husband, her daddy.

RD's have lately been spotty with their posts, however. Sorry, guys, there's no gentle way to state that. They have added two new voices recently so I am hopeful that they won't become defunct... we do need their input, their collective voice, and that "y chromosome" of which they seem to be so proud (read their tag line).

So, KM readers - do visit those daddies over at Rice Daddies, show them some love... it's not often that a blog can say that it planted the seed that grew into a divorce. (And I say that with affection...)

Do you have a rice daddy in your life of whom you are proud?

-Mama Nabi