Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother
Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother
by Amy Chua
Having been raised by strict Asian parents who emphasized academic achievement and obedience to elders, I initially defended Chua’s "Chinese" approach and assumed most of the critics were culturally biased "we’re-all-winners" types who’d only read short excerpts or newspaper articles about the book.
Well, I have finally gotten around to reading this memoir and I can tell you that the widespread criticism of Chua’s parenting approach is indeed justified.
I certainly agree with some aspects of Chua’s book – such as when raising children, we must assume strength, not fragility. However, Chua’s methods of bringing out her children’s strengths is horrifying. She openly berates her children. She doesn’t know the meaning of picking your battles wisely (a tactic I believe every parent of a teenager must master, whether Chinese or Western). There is not a single moment of interlude for these poor kids, as Chua even rents out piano practice rooms every day during overseas family trips. Then she sways to bribery and cajolement when threats fail to achieve instant obedience. Often I found myself shaking my head, thinking that this is not "Chinese parenting." It’s controlling parenting.
There are certainly elements of Asian parenting that Western parents can learn from, just as Asian parents can learn from their Western counterparts. But Chua is a fool to expect that two children raised in America will thrive on a totally Chinese approach. They do not live in China. You need to take into account the environment in which your children grow, without necessarily abandoning your traditional approach. After all, isn’t that what Chua herself expected of her parents when she married a Jewish man? I find it so sad that her children weren’t allowed to interact with their peers as kids normally do in America – playdates and sleepovers and all.
To give Chua credit, she does acknowledge that her rigid parenting was the wrong approach for her younger child. However this admission comes with great reluctance – it still "pains her every day" that Lulu quits the orchestra and negotiates to practice the violin by herself for "just" 30 minutes a day. When Lulu was finally permitted to play tennis and showed signs of aptitude, Chua immediately goes into her smother mother mode, researching the best trainers in the area. She only retreats unwillingly after the horrified Lulu pleads her not to "wreck tennis for me like you wrecked violin" with demands for perfection and endless practice. Chua’s reluctant change of tactics don’t redeem her enough in my eyes after years and years of harsh control and obsessively perfecting her daughters’ musical skills.
In her obsession with grades and musical achievement, Chua seems to forget that excellence in academia does not guarantee success in life. Often it’s the social skills and other intangible traits that enable people to win that important project, to get along with your boss, to charm a difficult client. Many excessively strict parents who emphasized academia above all else are today wringing their hands asking why their perfect, Harvard graduate child can’t seem to find themselves a job, or unable to keep a job, or constantly passed over for promotional opportunities. The equation of success is more complex than being the best pianist or the student with most A-plusses in the year.
Throughout the book Chua seems fixated about enforcing her notions of "Chinese-style parenting". There is nothing Chinese about neurotically controlling every minute aspect of your child’s life and then resorting to emotional blackmail, bribery, and sarcastic criticism when your child refuses to obey. This is called "bad parenting" across all societies. As a Korean mother married to a Chinese husband, I find her ideas of Chinese parenting not only inaccurate, but repugnant.
With such sentiments, do I recommend the book? Yes. The book is like a train wreck you can’t take your eyes off from. Despite the creepy helicopter parenting it still makes an intriguing read, if only to delve into the psyche of an obviously bright Yale professor who makes abysmally poor parenting choices. But don’t reward Chua’s neurotic smothering with royalties for this book – borrow a library copy if you can. I don’t think I can quite stomach a second read, anyway.
