In Defense of Tigers and Teeth

There's a lot of discussion circling the drain on Amy Chua's WSJ excerpt, "Why Chinese Mothers are Superior." Taken from her book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, Chua basically calls Western parents toothless weak idiots that are raising unproductive bratty fragile children.

Before I jump into the fray, I'd like to disclaim that Chua's brief excerpt is clearly outrageous and meant to incite. She does herself no favors by writing like an battle ox, espousing stereotypical (borderline, ah, racist?) views, and exaggerating the "Chinese-ness" of her household by glossing over her marriage to Jed, a nice White Jewish guy. Plus, it seems premature to write a book about her parenting skills when her daughters are mid-teens. I'd like to see what happens in the rebellion stage and college, Mama Chua.

Taken into account that all of this enraged publicity can only be good for her book sales and eventual bottom line, categorize me as suspicious about the depth of Chua's true superiority complex. I suspect she's exaggerating the extent of her meanness and incendiary thoughts to make a buck or two. Not to mention that since WSJ became a Murdoch-owned company, I have reservations about a potentially out-of-context excerpt that's meant to be sensational along the lines of a New York Post article.

It's especially remiss that Chua tells the Tiger Mother story in an accusatory tone that she gives heavy ammunition to those who'd rather dismiss her. Sure, Chua, after you call the entire American Western population retards, they'll definitely want to talk about the merits of your theory. And I do think there are merits to Chua's theory. Why else was I told in high school (by a western girl with feathers sticking out of her pen) that the SATs were "genetically geared for Asians." Robin announced in psych class that studies had, like, totally proven Asians did better on the SATs as a whole, and this meant something in our GENES let us beat standardized testing.

It's pretty insulting to be told hard work is dismissible as a "genetic" advantage. I wonder, Robin, if you'd had spent hours of your Friday night drilling in some tutor's basement, you'd still see the gap so strongly.

So, my immediate response to this article? I laughed. Really hard.

When a fellow first-generation Asian American, K, sent me this article, we danced in how nostalgic the words felt. It's amazing how much Chua's initial description still mimics my own list of restricted activities from nearly 10-20 years ago:

- No sleepovers with friends. MAYBE sleepovers with other cousins.
- No TV from Monday - Friday.
- No school plays (until junior year of HS).
- No boyfriends (until senior year of HS).
- Must take weekly extra math classes. (What's up, Kumon)
- Must play piano
- Must always get A's! (Or at least, top grades).


There a lot of crazy stories I could tell about my upbringing. I admit that as Asian mothers go, mine was pretty squarely in the middle. I never thought of her as the strictest lady on the block, but me and my lil brother certainly couldn't expect to get away with much in our youth. Mom wasn't embarrassed to go seemingly-insane lengths to ensure I obeyed the rules (er, Prime Directive).

And, isn't that really the rub of the conversation? One of the most interesting aspects of Chua's description is that she accurately paints the incredible effort it takes to BE a Tiger Mother. It's not all tyranny and emotional damage, playing Bad Cop takes a brass that a lot of people don't have the stomach for. It means suffering through a child's angry down-turned pout that says over and over: I hate you. It means sacrifice of your own. In college, my Chinese professor announced she had made her 14 year old son stay up all night to re-write a paper after he got a B-. Of course, she stayed up all night with him, hand-peeling green grapes so that the skin wouldn't get stuck in his teeth while he ate and worked. Can you imagine! If given a choice between peeling grapes all night or telling their kid a B- was appropriate, I'm sure most working mothers would rather give their kid a lollipop and tell them just to try harder next time.

But, Chua says lollipops are crippling, and all this burden must be borne in name of the "virtuous cycle". The one where a child can only learn confidence through success. A success, Chua says, that should blossom from viciously hard work.

This makes sense, except that Chua's "virtuous cycle" has nothing to say (so far) about what happens when her well-groomed and prodigal daughters eventually grow up and become ... just another nobody. My issue with the tiger parenting isn't the strictness, but the eventual disappointment. There are a lot of Chinese mothers in the room, and not all their children can be prodigies, billionaires, CEOs, and doctors. The rest of us have to be real schmucks who pay taxes, network for jobs, and be ugly sometimes. After raising a child to believe they are truly special, deserving, and shouldn't settle for anything less than all the weird standardized and prestigious measures of worth; what happens when your child DOES eventually have to settle? When, god forbid, they don't get into Harvard? What does tiger parenting have to say about the moment when you reach adulthood, and realize you're destined to be Average? In reality, no one gives a piss about your critically acclaimed life, and even if they did, that's still not enough to make your days full and happy? What about that moment, Chua?

Maybe Chua will be lucky, and her daughters will go on to lead the exceptional lives Chua has laid out for them. We all know Yale's big on family lineage operating as a valid factor of acceptance and maybe that'll be rosy and Chua will never have to admit she was wrong. But for those kids who find their lives unfolding in different ways, it's impossible not to wonder: What was it all for? Shouldn't I have been searching for the "meaning" in my life? For my passion? For my hobby that isn't marketable in any traditional way?

Maybe yes, and maybe no. The problem with generic parenting styles is that it doesn't work for everyone, and ultimately, I think a parent has to really know the child (and his/her strengths) before all of the screaming and scheming. I can't believe that Tiger parents work for everyone.

I admit that when it came to law school, I mostly let myself be led here by my parents. And I admit that even after I graduate from this oh-so-fancy top-tier law school, I'll still be doomed to become Just Another Lawyer one day. I don't expect to argue ground-breaking cases before the Supreme Court, or start my own firm. But as long as I'm doing LAW, I don't think I'll care. It turns out my parents knew me a lot better than I knew myself, and the legal profession is the perfect place for an over-talkative opinionated person like myself.

So despite the potential disappointment, neurosis, and bruised sociability, I'm glad my parents told me I could do all the really prestigious things - and then pushed me hard to prove it. Because without that I wouldn't have found my way to the things and people I really love.

That's better than a lollipop any day.