“Nothing is fun until you're good at it.”
In the afterword of “The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother”, Chua addresses the book’s controversy following an excerpt from the Wall Street Journal. I didn’t realize that there was any controversy. But after typing the name of the book online, Google informed me that “People also ask: ‘Is Amy Chua abusive?’” I viewed the book as self-satire to emphasize cultural differences and the struggles of parenting, rather than a how-to guide for parents who aspire to raise musical prodigies. At times I literally laughed out loud while reading, but apparently others did not. I think that beyond Chua's explicit explanation in the afterword, the book reads in part like satire. On the children of the children of Chinese immigrants, Chua writes: “Finally and most problematically, they will feel that they have individual rights guaranteed by the U.S. Constitution and therefore be much more likely to disobey their parents and ignore career advice.” On Chinese parenting in the West, Chua writes: “You have to go up against an entire value system–rooted in the Enlightenment, individual autonomy, children development theory, and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights…”
Chua purposely eschews nuance when presenting only two views of parenting, Western and Chinese. I don’t condone many of Chua’s practices or her comments on the mental health of children but I don't think that’s the point. I don’t need to agree with her and she doesn’t try to convince me, she is just presenting her tumultuous experience in parenting.
I didn’t grow up with Chinese parents but I related to the sentiments embodied in the book, even though it was very different from what I experienced. I remember my piano teacher Lillia, a stern Russian woman with short gray hair and glasses, who terrified me to the point that I would say I had to use the restroom and hide for however long I felt I could. But my parents realized my distress and let me move on to the saxophone. My parents scoffed at participation trophies but told me that all I had to do was my best in order to be successful. They pushed me to practice outside of practice. They taught me, as Chua teaches her daughters, to check every test three times and to always do extra credit. But it was me and me alone that viewed myself as a failure if I got a B.
Moreover, growing up in the Bay Area, I had classmates and friends that had very similar experiences to those of Chua’s children–practicing their instrument for hours and hours every day, remaining hyper focused on school at all times. I saw their experiences from a distance, or heard about it when they chose to discuss, although that was mostly when we were all in high school and, to some degree, grown up. The student that recommended this book told me that it captures the in-between and tension of the two worlds that she grew up in–American and Chinese. It’s a tension that I will never fully understand because I am not Chinese, but I can emphasize as the daughter of immigrants from a different culture and recognize the nuance of their childhood and identity.
While the book has its share of rightful criticism, I believe it is still a worthwhile read and an important perspective to gain to better understand those around us. The book offers a glimpse into the childhoods of some Chinese-Americans; it reflects the different pressures, values, and lessons instilled in all of us when growing up and also the similarities that exist across cultures and communities.
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