Battle Hymn Against the Tiger Mother

People like to call me “Veronica” even though my name is “Victoria.” I guess that doesn’t matter because we all look alike anyway. Asians, I mean. We all have small small eyes. We sound like the clanging of pots and pans when we talk. We are math and music prodigies and we have no life.

As an Asian, these are just some of the stereotypes society imposes on me. But this is 2016. You’d think that, at least in a first-world country like America, we would have fixed this problem by now. We are trying, but Tiger Mom is reaping what we have sowed.  

In case you don’t know who the infamous Tiger Mom is, here’s the spiel: Amy Chua, whose personality is the very antonym to the meaning of her first name, wrote a book titled Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. Basically, Chua had compiled the most hackneyed Asian stereotypes and slapped a label on them. She intended her book to be a memoir. It turned out to be the bane of my existence.

“B!? B is so BITCH!” At least, that’s what the epitome tiger mom would say when you hand her your less-than-satisfactory test. Chua takes this a step further. According to her memoir, Chua prohibited her daughters from attending a sleepover, having a playdate, watching TV, playing computer games, or getting any grade below an A. She goes on to say that her daughters must perform at the top of the class and win gold medals. Only gold medals. Normal people would wince at Chua’s stringent measures. Chua, however, implies that this is common practice among Asian mothers, which is stereotyping. Generalizing Asian family traditions may not have carried so much weight on a blog post, but Chua wrote a memoir topping the New York Times bestsellers list for weeks. Chua had reached a wide audience. Her words, therefore, inevitably impact the Asian image. Because Chua presents Asians as workaholics, perfectionists, and party-poopers, the public feels justified to view Asians in this light. Asians, on the other hand, feel more pressured than ever to conform to the book’s artificial standards. By setting forth her deluded vision of Asian parenting, Chua has brought disgrace to the Asian community.

And now a word from our beloved Mushu:

“Your garbage,” Chua’s father said to his daughter. “Your garbage,” Chua said to her own daughters. Apparently, garbage just runs in the family. Reminiscing about these harsh times may be a shared joke for the Chua family, but, in another time and place, Elizabeth Shin certainly felt like garbage when she immolated herself in her own dormitory room. On April 10th, 2000, MIT authorities broke down the door to Shin’s room only to witness flames consuming her body. There is no doubt that Shin’s macabre suicide resulted from an insecurity born from dissatisfactory grades. After all, she too had tiger parents. In fact, at Shin’s high school graduation, her parents were disappointed (I repeat, disappointed) that the school did not honor their daughter as valedictorian. Despite her outstanding academic achievements (she did become salutatorian), Shin’s parents still fell short of congratulating their daughter. Her parents’ unattainable expectations burdened Shin until her death, yet Chua praises this extreme form of parenting. Unfortunately, Shin’s suicide is a symptom of a larger disease. Because of “tiger parenting,” many Asian youths suffer from insecurity. Clearly, Chua supports a dangerous parenting model that not only ignores sensitive issues within the Asian community but also deals physical damage-- and that’s no laughing matter.

        Rather than helping eradicate Asian stereotypes, Chua’s Tiger Mother only exacerbates them. What Chua did was simple. What she did cost Asians their dignity. It’s disheartening to see that the efforts working to eliminate Asian stereotypes are offsetted by a single book. Asians should not feel pressured to conform to Chua’s one-sided vision, but the publication of Tiger Mother only suppresses the Asians yearning to express their individuality-- that they are more than a package of stereotypes.