I'm a medical student, and as I look over all of these answers, I am reminded of so many of the problems I've observed in my fellow students (and that I've experienced myself). Amy Chua claims that she pushes her children on the level that she does because she wants them to be the best that they can be; this, she claims, allows them to experience happiness on a deeper level. Oddly enough, though, my experiences in medical school have made me realize that exactly the opposite is true. A healthy desire to improve and do well is helpful in life, but at some point, the relentless pursuit of "perfection" can only bring misery and heartache. Such a desire can even make you worse at whatever you're trying to learn, because if you emphasize competition and scores too much, you miss the whole purpose behind learning and simply become miserable when you realize that there are other people out there who are just as smart and talented as you are. And believe me, there is always someone.

I was lucky enough to have been brought up by two parents who were both accomplished classical musician, and when I read about Amy Chua's daughters, I found myself reflecting back on my experiences with music. My mom (who is a professional pianist) never even remotely tried to force music down my throat. My parents were both seriously mentally ill throughout my childhood--Amy Chua would probably be horrified if she knew about how unsupervised and free I was as a child. Oddly enough, though, one day at the age of five, I sat down at the piano and played music. For years after that, I labored away at the piano for hours, but it was never because anyone forced me to; it was because I had discovered a way to express my very heart and soul that couldn't be rivaled by anything else in this world. I think I became good at music and loved it more because I chose it freely.

Can you force someone to have passion for something? I don't think you can, and yet it's at the heart of so many things. You can teach someone to play music with technical perfection, but without passion, he or she will never even come close to performing with the beauty of a true artist. When people listen to my mom play the piano, they sometimes cry, but would you believe me if I told you that her skills weren't created through coercion or bullying? She was so poor growing up that the only piano she had access to was the one at a local church. Every person has a special destiny in this world--how can they discover it if you choose it for them? What if my mom's parents had decided she was supposed to be a lawyer, and not a professional pianist? I actually feel pity for people who had music forced on them, no matter how accomplished they might be. It must be so tragic to labor so hard at something, only to be beaten by a person whose parents actually gave them the chance to think about what music is even all about.

The essential thing I think is missing from Amy Chua's parenting style is the idea that people should accomplish things because it benefits the world and makes people's lives better. In medicine, I see so many students and doctors who can't seem to remember that our profession is about improving people's lives, not inflating our fragile egos. You don't have to be the "best" to be an amazing doctor. When I look around my class, I think I actually would prefer to have doctors more like some of the people at the "bottom." Sure, they might not have the most impressive CV, but they care about people as human beings. More importantly, they are not so miserable that they think that getting perfect scores and shoving them in people's faces is the only way to be happy.

Teaching your kids to work hard is good, but teach them to relentlessly pursue their passions. Teach them that they have something to offer the world and that you'll be behind their pursuit of it every step of the way. The real "tigers" are the people who are passionate and accomplish things because they want to.

No. Chinese mothers are not superior. It's clear that the author Amy Chua has a new book out and linkbait headlines in the WSJ will help her sell them. I understand she uses the term "Chinese Mother" to represent a certain parenting style - one that I am very familiar with from personal experience.

Here's my take on it. My family immigrated to the U.S. from Taiwan in the 70s. My mother was a stay at home mom raising 4 kids and was stereotypical strict. I lived in that household where getting a B on your report card was a sign of failure. A lot of focus and pressure was placed on the first child - my older sister - in the hopes that she would set an example for the rest of us. In a very painful hindsight I think you can say too much emphasis was placed on molding my sister into the example my mother wanted the rest of us to follow. I don't blame her as she did the best she could to raise us in the U.S. in the style that she was raised ...in Taiwan.

There's a culture clash you can't overlook here. The "superior" Chinese mother in my life had a strictly results driven, merit based mindset and a heavy emphasis on test scores, achievements and report cards being able to show that her daughter was better than everyone else in the class -- which in turn was a reflection on her success as a parent. However, the environment in which she raised us in was a different country. One that she has honestly never gotten used to or felt comfortable in living in. To her, the idea of having her children become "Americanized" was looked down upon as failure. The idea of allowing a more flexible stance, a softer tone or an expression of individualism was out of the question. This duality of living in a very "Chinese" household and going to school where our American teachers taught us to be free thinking and creative were constantly at odds with each other growing up.

Drawing from personal experience, the reason why I don't feel this works is because I've seen an outcome that Amy Chua, the author fails to address or perhaps has yet to experience.

My big sister was what I used to jealously call "every Asian parent's wet dream come true" (excuse the crassness, but it really does sum up the resentment I used to feel towards her). She got straight As. Skipped 5th grade. Perfect SAT score. Varsity swim team. Student council. Advanced level piano. Harvard early admission. An international post with the Boston Consulting Group in Hong Kong before returning to the U.S. for her Harvard MBA. Six figure salary. Oracle. Peoplesoft. Got engaged to a PhD. Bought a home. Got married.

Her life summed up in one paragraph above.

Her death summed up in one paragraph below.

Committed suicide a month after her wedding at the age of 30 after hiding her depression for 2 years. She ran a plastic tube from the tailpipe of her car into the window. Sat there and died of carbon monoxide poisoning in the garage of her new home in San Francisco. Her husband found her after coming home from work. A post-it note stuck on the dashboard as her suicide note saying sorry and that she loved everyone.

Mine is an extreme example of course. But 6 years since her passing, I can tell you that the notion of the "superior Chinese mother" that my mom carried with her also died with my sister on October 28, 2004. If you were to ask my mom today if this style of parenting worked for her, she'll point to a few boxes of report cards, trophies, piano books, photo albums and Harvard degrees and gladly trade it all to have my sister back.

For every success story that has resulted from the "Chinese mothers" style of parenting, there are chapters that have yet to unfold. The author can speak to her example of how it's worked for her but it'll be interesting to see how long you can keep that gig up and pass it down until something gives.

As a responsibility to herself as a "superior Chinese mother", I think Amy Chua should do a bit of research outside her comfort zone and help readers understand why Asian-American females have one of the highest rates of suicide in the U.S. -- I bet many of you didn't know that. I didn't until after the fact. It'd make a good follow up book to this one she's currently profiting from.

***
A few years ago I got up the guts to begin sharing the story of my sister because the more I learned about depression and suicide following her death, I found myself growing increasingly frustrated with the stigma of depression in our society. I was also shocked to learn that Asian-American females had one of the highest suicide rates in the U.S.

http://www.pacificcitizen.org/site/details/tabid/55/selectmoduleid/373/ArticleID/490/reftab/36/Default.aspx?title=The_Growing_Rate_of_Depression%2C_Suicide_Among_Asian_American_Students_

I have personally helped 2 young women in the last few years who reached out to me as a result of sharing my story. Both the "perfect" daughters of "superior Chinese mothers" who were sharp Ivy League grads hiding their depression from their families and friends. I was also able to play a role in preventing the suicide of a friend of mine several months ago because of the awareness I've developed about depression and suicide since my sister's passing.

I want to clarify again that my sister's story is an extreme example that hits home for me. I'm not trying to say that strict "Chinese mother" style parenting was solely the cause that lead to her depression and suicide nor will it result in all kids burning out later on in life.

But I do hope it shows that this parenting style isn't a proven template that results in all kids turning into the success stories that author Amy Chua gives herself credit for raising.

*media: please note this answer is marked "not for reproduction"

UPDATE 1/9: I emailed author Amy Chua
this evening (1/9). Expressed my disappointment about the WSJ piece and
pointed to this Quora thread. To my surprise I received a prompt reply
from her that said:

Dear [redacted]: Thank you for taking the time to write me, and I'm

so sorry about your sister. I did not choose the title of the WSJ

excerpt, and I don't believe that there is only one good way of raising

children. The actual book is more nuanced, and much of it is about

my decision to retreat from the "strict Chinese immigrant"

model.

Best of luck to you,

Amy Chua

Well, the editor at the WSJ who made up the headline ...and her publisher must be happy at all the buzz and traffic this excerpt has gotten. Unfortunately, I think it comes at the expense of being able to get across the "nuance" she speaks of and definitely doesn't indicate that she has since retreated from the "strict Chinese immigrant" model we're all debating. Clearly it's because we're all expected to buy the book. I get it. Hit a nerve. Drive traffic to WSJ. Make her look evil. Penguin sells books. She gets a cut and gets to say she was just kidding about being a superior Chinese mother. Everyone profits there. Is that the play? Whatever.

UPDATE 1/13:
It appears that the author is making her rounds in the U.S. media with a softer tone and accusing WSJ of misrepresenting her. Great strategy. Looks like it's working. Meanwhile, friends in China share that the Chinese version of her book is out soon via CITIC. Chinese title reads: "Being a Mother in America" -- Again, I have to give her credit. She plays both sides well. See link below. (h/t @goldkorn via Twitter)

China version. Slightly different cover art from the U.S. version if i'm not mistaken. Maybe she'll claim she had no idea about the Chinese title too. I'm sure sales will do well in China. No shortage of Chinese mothers who dream of being able to raise their child in the U.S. and see them become "successful"

http://t.sina.com.cn/1788220545/5KD0tGDgSO1

Ok, so we've reached a consensus here: Amy Chua, not mother of the year.

Yes, my mother acted like this woman to a T. It got so bad that I learned how to forge my report cards after a particularly bruising B taught me that under no circumstances do you bring home anything less than an A. If only I had applied the same sort of dedication to my actual studies....

And yes I have developed some debilitating mental health issues, partially as a result of this sort of lovely childhood upbringing. There is of course the fact that my mother has some lovely psychiatric issues on top of the take-no-prisoners mentality demonstrated in the article. Yes, life as a kid could get quite exciting at times. I have anxiety attacks at EVERYTHING - you've never seen a girl break out into hives so fast. I have debilitating depression, sometimes with psychotic features. And body issues, oh boy, anorexia and bulimia are well known to me.

I won't go into the actual details of my upbringing because at this point it's just a pissing contest for who had the worst childhood, but basically, life as a kid is not fun under this kind of a mother. You don't really get to be a kid, you are basically an old soul. I've been Benjamin-Buttoning it since I left home....

But I will say this for my mom: she does love me. God help her, in her own twisted little way, that woman loves me. See, I was hospitalized for psychiatric reasons recently and we had a heart to heart while I was inpatient. (Yes, it's sad and pathetic that that was the only place we could have possibly started the dialogue.) It was a cluster fuck at first but we kept at it and eventually she realized I was really actually sick, and that mental illness is actually a thing and not something I just made up. The dialogue started, and in some ways that was the best thing that could have happened.
And this last Christmas she sat down and told me this:
She's made lots of mistakes when parenting me and she's sorry for that. She didn't understand before what she was doing to me but now she's going to start listening to me and change her ways. A lot of my problems are a direct result from the things she's put me through and she is truly sorry for that.

Well first, it is really uncomfortable having a former Tiger mother go all "Caucasian" on you. But the thing is, that woman loves me and she is not just a psychotic crazy Tiger lady - she's also a deeply misguided mother. This in no way forgives all the shit she put me through, but we actually talk now and it's nice to have a mother that I can show my personality around. She can still be a little awful and have ridiculous expectations about her late-in-life care, but at least we can have a dialogue. And as shitty as my childhood was, my mom genuinely loves me. She is a poor misguided soul but she is better than some other mothers I have encountered who just blatantly don't give two shakes about their kids.

As terrible as Tiger mother can be, there is no doubt in my mind that she loves her kid and just has no idea how else to raise them....

And while the harm that these mothers can inflict has been extensively studied here, I will enumerate some of the things I've been able to learn from growing up with my insane little mom:

1. I am a much more empathetic and understanding person than I would be. It's hard as a kid trying to figure out why your mom is such an ass, so you learn to look deeper and try to find the love. After years of practice, It's now just a habit.

2. I am more careful about not being an ass. When the one person you strive not to be like is your mom, you work extra hard at being nice....

3. I do work hard. My mother put the fear of god in me, and fear is a very potent motivator. And boy do I fear some of my supervisors.....It sucks sometimes and like I said, my anxiety requires medication, but boy do I know how to hustle...

4. I learned to find the humor. When shit has hit the fan and you're bruised and alone in bed at night and the only choices you have are to cry or to laugh, you learn to laugh at things.

5. I am a survivor. I have seen and experienced some shit and have survived it, as a kid no less. At times of great stress, letting myself know that helps.

None if this in any way condones how my mother treated me as a child. I was lucky that when I had my psychotic break, I ended up in a psychiatric hospital and not completing suicide. And I'm still an emotional wreck sometimes. Still, as much as I abhor how she treated me, her motivation is not lost on me and in a way I understand why Amy Chua felt the need to write this article/her book. Her methods are not correct. But people are stupid when it comes to love.

The question asks for anecdotal responses, but I'll supplement it: As a medical director and child/adolescent psychiatrist of an Asian community clinic in California, a researcher in Asian adolescent mental health and an Asian-American woman myself, I'll have to disagree from clinical, research, and personal perspectives.

Clinically,
Depends on how one defines success – obtaining professional degrees in Ivy League schools, high income level, or "status" vs. personal happiness/fulfillment, well-adjustment, good mental/emotional and social health.

Not socializing one's child (play dates, plays, etc) could clinically create anxiety for your child in the future. Through play, children learn how to express themselves, solve problems, manage interpersonal differences, etc. While she's right in the notion that gaining mastery at something helps build confidence – emotional abuse and name calling do the opposite. Growing up in an emotionally invalidating environment has been linked to personality disorders.

I see Asian teens in my clinic; many are academically quite successful, but are also the ones I worry most about re: suicide. The depression red flags are different for many Asian teens, who may be getting good grades, are still engaged in extra-curricular activities, while profoundly struggling with self-identity, self-esteem, and rigidity in thought about potential outcomes ("either I have to be a Harvard lawyer, or I'll be so ashamed that the only outlook is death"). Also very problematic is the stigma against outsiders (non-family) giving help – many parents do not want their children to see a professional, wanting to keep all issues within the family.

Chua claims that when expected achievements or accomplishments are reached, then the child is celebrated – I have not seen that personally or clinically. The parents may boast to other parents, but that tends to create more stress for the child, feeling more responsibility to pleasing parents.

Research:
There are multiple studies that show:

• Despite high levels of academic achievement, Asian American students report poor psychological adjustment (Choi et al, 2006; Greene et al 2006; Rhee et al 2003; Rumbault, 1994; Yeh, 2003).
• Parental preoccupation with grades alone can create depression and anxiety for youth (Pang, 1991).
• Perception of parental disinterest in emotional wellbeing is significantly associated with depression (Greenberger 1996; Stuart et al 1999).
• It's shown that harsh parental discipline is related to depression of Chinese-Am teens (Kim & Gee, 2000).

There are more studies – but I'll stop here.

Among the statistics of suicide in Asian Americans:

• http://www.pacificcitizen.org/site/details/tabid/55/selectmoduleid/373/ArticleID/490/reftab/36/Default.aspx?title=The_Growing_Rate_of_Depression,_Suicide_Among_Asian_American_Students_)
• Asian Am women 15–24yrs old had the highest suicide rates among any ethnicity (Dept of Health and Human Services)
• California Institute of Tech 2009: 3 Asian suicides
• According to New America Media, from 1996 to 2006, of the 21 students who committed suicide at Cornell, 13 were APA. This 61.9 percentage is significantly higher than the overall percent of APA students, which is 14.
• From 1964 to 2000, the average number of MIT undergraduate student suicides was nearly three times that of many as the national campus average, with 21.2 students out of every 100,000 committing suicide in comparison to 7.5, with 11.7 as the national overall average.

Personally:
Respecting elders, filial piety, valuing education and intellectual growth are all positive attributes that I'm thankful for receiving from my Korean parents. I'm also thankful I did not have the emotional abuse, "helicopter parenting", undue pressure on academic success that allowed me the flexibility to risk following interests, understand who I am and what drives me, and allow me to make the
difficult decisions to pursue passions, though non-lucrative. Positive feedback can be low in many of these Asian families, only seen through the lens of mothers boasting to other mothers about a child's accomplishments – furthering the debt and responsibility for that child. The notion that "my child can be the best" is a solid, encouraging one. My issue is the way in which Ms. Chua implements this.

Ms. Chua’s article has the potential to be harmful – perpetuating the
model minority myth that isolates some Asian Americans, places harsh
demands/restrictions and disregards the large number that are struggling. Many believe that Asians are quiet and hard working, but that does not mean psychological distress is absent. It disrespects the large number of young people who are struggling with severe depression and suicidal thoughts, poor self-worth, inability to deal with life stressors or realities, or manage interpersonal relationships directly related to their parents' love being conditional on academic success. Independent of ethnicity, parents who help youth develop a personal sense of who they are and assist in building resiliency and interpersonal skills to modulate academic and professional success are more likely to develop into personally and professionally successful adults.

• For more info on Asian teen mental health, here's a more extensive post: http://kimchimamas.typepad.com/kimchi_mamas/2010/05/guest-post-raising-your-asian-american-teen.html#more
• And here's an interesting article about Chinese education that's relevant: http://articles.latimes.com/2011/jan/13/world/la-fg-china-education-20110113/2
• Also, for people in the Bay Area, Amy Chua is speaking about this Op-Ed at Booksmith (1644 Haight St SF) at 7:30pm on 1/19, and a fundraiser at the Hillside Club in Berkeley at 7:30pm on 1/20.
• Here's an interview with her that moderates the Op-Ed. http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/g/a/2011/01/13/apop011311.DTL (Though she still makes a strange Western vs. Chinese parenting distinction, stating that there's a "Western ideal of unlimited choice". ?? She should stick to being a lawyer. I'm not sure how she's building these stereotypes.)
• And this is funny: http://tigermomsays.tumblr.com/

[DISCLAIMER: I am not Chinese-American, instead I identify as Chinese-Canadian. However, I see many similarites.]

As a 15 year old girl who straddles the line between first generation and second generation Chinese Canadian, I often wondered what my life would be like if my parents acted like my Caucasian friends' parents. My mom is relatively liberal compared to Amy Chua but I definitely identified with parts of Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother.

At the beginning of my 10 years of playing piano, my mother also forced me to sit at the piano and practice, and practice, and practice. After 3 years of that, and a dramatic tantrum, my mom gave me a choice - continue or quit. I took the exit, I was so tired of wasting my time and now that I look back, so was she. Yet strangely, only 2 years later, I begged my mom to let me start piano again. I personally feel that because she loosened the reins early, I was able to explore whether I wanted to play piano or not. I was able to see that I, myself, wanted to play piano. Rather than rebelling like many of my friends did just for the sake of defying their parents, I was able to make my parents and myself happy. And when I decided to quit piano after finishing my Grade 10 RCM, my mom accepted that I was done.

This is the area where I find the most difference between Amy Chua and my mom. Amy Chua pushed and pushed without acknowledging that her daughters were people and they had opinions too. My mother looked at me and decided to allow me to have a choice. (I get an irritating feeling that she knew that I would end up going back to piano, but I appreciate that she allowed to have a break.)

Similarly, in school, she's allowed me to make my own choices. Sure, she didn't approve of the junior high (middle school) that I wanted but in the end she agreed to my choice. I still ended up at the high school that so many of my mom's friends dream for their kids. Ironically, it was the high school that my mom didn't want me to go to. My mom allows me the space to make my own decisions and sometimes my choices align with hers, and sometimes they don't.

Sure, my mom's not perfect. My childhood was filled with "abusive" language as one might term it. She pushed and pushed about Chinese, and still continues to push. She tells me to practice Chinese and explains the benefits she sees and I sometimes listen and I sometimes don't. But in the end, she leaves the choice to me. My mom has blended the tiger mother with a more laissez-faire approach so that I know who's in charge but our relationship isn't a dictatorship.

I think there's no way to say one type of parenting is better than another, and like my mom always says, you have to look at the kid. The best type of parenting is the type that suits the kid. I don't know how well Amy Chua's tiger mom technique would work for me, but my mom's blended technique has seemed to bring me more benefits than pain. I voluntarily study my butt off because I want to, rather than hanging out in a dark alley buying drugs like some of my old classmates. I can play the piano and has kept my love for music. I have friends that I can hang out with after school and on weekends. I have a good relationship with my parents where we can talk about almost anything. I can speak, and read Mandarin fluently. Writing is more of a challenge but I push myself to learn and remember more. And when I have kids, I want to speak Mandarin with them.

Reading through the responses of various people who were subjected to this parenting style, I'm surprised at how little thought seems to be given to what the parents actually thought. It's callous of me to say this, but quite a few of these responses seem to have a lot of "me" in them, and not a whole lot of empathy for what the parents went through in their decision-making, and just how hard it is for parents to make those decisions.

I used to think in much the same way. But after growing older and reading The Namesake, I've learned to appreciate why my parents did what they did. They're just like any other parents--they wanted the best for me. So maybe I don't agree with every parenting tactic they used. So what? There aren't any perfect parents, and there aren't any perfect kids, either. But even though my parents weren't perfect, they grew up in a war zone in Vietnam, and I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth in an American suburb. And the only reason I'm here is because they busted their asses to get out of there. I try to think about that when I evaluate the lessons they tried to pass on to me, and how they tried to pass those lessons on to me.

Personally, I was raised using some of the same techniques employed by the author. I played piano from an early age, I was only allowed to get As, etc. Although I don't plan on employing many of those techniques myself, I think that this parenting style helped me with some things. For example, although I won a lot of competitions when I was young, I didn't really like practicing or playing piano until I was in eighth grade. Only then did a light switch turn on in my head, and afterwards I actually enjoyed playing piano.

Today, I still practice somewhat regularly; the piano I bought after graduating college is definitely the best material purchase I've made. And to this day, the work that I'm most satisfied with is not optimizing this animation or that algorithm as part of the original iPad team, but rather getting on stage to play a piano concerto with an orchestra. But without my parents pushing me to practice before I realized the value of practicing, I wonder whether I ever would have had those positive experiences.

Of course, I'm leaving out quite a few negative outcomes--I think I'd have enjoyed college much more if I weren't pushed to become a pre-med, for example. But that's my point--you can't make blanket assertions about a particular parenting style without considering the situation and the individual. Everyone responds differently to different forms of parenting, and it's the job of the parent to adjust to the child's responses accordingly. There's a line between pushing a child so hard that they resent what they're doing, and being so lax that the child never reaches their true potential. And while it was easy for me to criticize my parents for not always knowing where that line was when I was growing up, I think I'm beginning to realize just how hard it is to find that line in reality. Armchair parenting is easy, actual parenting is not.

Lastly, the underlying insinuation in much of this thread that Chinese parenting produces robots and Western parenting produces creatives is, at best, a false dichotomy. Anecdotally, I know plenty of creative (and robotic) products of both parenting styles, and if you travel, pick up a newspaper, or read a history textbook, you'll find plenty of success stories (for whatever your definition of "success" is) no matter where you look.

There are several aspects of this question I could address: how did my Chinese mother affect my self esteem, my academics. It would sound quite similar to some of the reaction I already see here, so I won't go into it further than to state that yes, she used similar humiliation tactics and enforced repetition; yes, it had a resounding negative effect in my self esteem which has been softened through the positive reinforcement of my peers; unclear how it has affected my academics, as I am still exploring what I want to do with myself professionally. Also, for the sake of background, I'll say that I have worked hard since my young 20's to cultivate my relationship with my parents into a more adult dialogue... Don't know how successful I've been, but I am on speaking terms with them.

What I've not really seen discussed is how it affects you as a mother. For me, once I got over the knee jerk pit in my stomach feeling of dredging up the bad memories, i felt awful for a different reason. I felt judged. Thanks to the tone of the article, I already felt as if she/my parents were judging me for being an ungrateful daughter, (the ends justify the means, don't they? Who cares if I was scared stiff of my parents, and hated myself, I am a successful person!) but on top of that, I am judged to be a soft, incompetent mother, not willing to put in the hard work that is required to bring out the best in my 2 year old son. He's doomed.

I think that is what I hate most about this article.... let me stand on my soapbox for a minute, and I'll get to how it applies to the question. We are all judged to be soft, and in turn we all judge her to be a terrible mother, and this vicious cycle just keeps going. Being a parent is HARD. It's even harder when relatives are states, countries away. To borrow a cliche, it takes a village to raise a child, and in this day and age, that village extends to whatever community parents can reach to, Internet included. I know the article was meant to generate PR for her book, but that doesn't mean it isn't contributing to the overall parenting dialogue, and this is NOT a productive way to start a dialogue about parenting techniques. Instead, it adds fuel to the already insufferable 'mommy wars'. I'm not saying that we shouldn't ever judge... Neglectful parents and downright abusive parents should be called out and those kids helped. But everyone, including Amy Chua, including us, could probably stand to take a step back and realize that one only sees through one's own eyes, and can't possibly truly stand in another's shoes.

I think that is what I've learned most in my decades long struggle with my parents. I wish they would judge my actions kindly, and so I try to judge them kindly even if they are not always as charitable as me. I hope my son will learn to do the same. And, partly thanks to my son, I know with absolute certainty that my parents love me, even if they don't ever say it, and for that I am grateful, despite any old resentments I may have. And I do love them back, even if I don't exactly have a lot of respect for the whole filial piety schpiel.

I wonder what percentage of first generation kids that have been raised this way in turn use this technique for their kids. Obviously, I won't be. After all, I'm married to the proof that parents who use positive reinforcement, NEVER spank, and who respect their children's feelings, do raise successful children. (and no, this is not the equivalent to the stereotypical Western parent who is tries to be best friends with the kid and doesn't discipline at all.) My husband is the eldest son of California bred Americans, was raised to have a healthy questioning attitude (not quite disrespect) toward authority, went on long camping trips with his family and boy scout troop, quit piano at 13 (his own decision), had sleepovers, played video games since he was 5, etc... and went on to do a ph.d. in the sciences at an ivy league. His resume is a Chinese parent's wet dream. And yet, his upbringing is a very stark contrast to mine. Who do you think had a happier childhood, and has a healthy open relationship with parents to this day?

But there I go, judging again.

Edited to clarify: If being a mother myself has taught me anything, it is that my own experience and choices are unique to me, and my husband's experiences are unique to him, and one has to have the entire story to really understand it. That is why we should all judge kindly. And so I will build on my experience, and on my husband's (since I have known him and his family for over a decade, and he is an equal partner in raising my son) to decide how to discipline and encourage my son. And only my husband and I have the right to make that decision: we know him best, and can integrate what we learned from our upbringing to apply it to his own personality. Not every parenting style works for every kid. It's up to the parent to make the judgement call. That is why being a parent is so hard. There is no precedent to your own child.

Amy Chua is WRONG!

I apologize for the long post, but I believe it's important to provide at least some insight from a white American perspective, especially since my mother raised me the exact opposite of how Amy thinks children should be raised.

I learned what hard work, sacrifice, self-discipline, commitment, and perseverance are by watching my mother, by seeing her as the ultimate role model, not by having it beat into me by her. You see, my mother was a single parent, not by choice or desire, but because my father ran off when I was 2. My sister was 3 at the time, so my mother found herself raising two young children by herself (and her parents lived 400 miles away).

My mother was a nurse at the Veteran's Administration Hospital in Long Beach, California, and that was her only source of income, so we were by no means rich. In fact, I remember when I was around six years old my mother went an entire year without buying herself any new clothes because she was struggling to put food on the table and to clothe two rapidly growing kids.

My mother eventually worked her way up to head nurse of the cardiology ward, which meant she was responsible for bringing the crash cart to every cardiac arrest, something that happened quite often. I was proud of my mother, and when she came home from work I would often ask her how many lives she had saved, and she would reply, "A few," or "We lost someone today." But she NEVER complained about how difficult it was, and she NEVER brought her work home. She was the most stoic person I know.

When she was at home, however, my sister and I were the only thing in the world that mattered to her, and SHE LOVED US UNCONDITIONALLY. She didn't care what we became in life as long as we were happy and healthy. Don't get me wrong. She wanted the best for us, but she was willing to let go, to let us chart our own courses. And when we fell or failed, she was there to pick up us and encourage us to keep going, but she never demanded anything from us.

My mother was the quintessential soccer mom--literally--shuttling my sister and me to our soccer games and the other sports we were involved in. She made every effort to let us pursue whatever interests, hobbies and dreams we had. If I wanted to play baseball, she bought me a glove. If I wanted to play football, she bought me a helmet and pads. And when I gave up something or decided it wasn't for me, she never condemned me or put me down. She just accepted it and tried to encourage me to find something else that I was interested in.

We had an upright piano in our house. My mother could play it, but she rarely did. She was too busy working or taking care of us, but she instilled a love of music in me that I carry with me to this day. When I was in the 5th grade I decided that I wanted to play clarinet, so she went out and rented one for me. I played it all the way through the end of junior high school, eventually taking up the tenor saxophone. Then in high school, I wanted to play guitar, so I bought a second hand one and taught myself. But I'm not a virtuoso--I can barely carry a tune today--but I still love to pick up a guitar and just listen to the sound it makes.

We were not rich, so if I wanted something, I usually had to work for it. I started by mowing lawns at the age of 10. I walked door to door in our neighborhood and asked people if they needed their lawns mowed. I also bought Lifesavers at the nearby liquor store and then sold them for a nickle a piece at school. Later, when I was in junior high school, I sold newspapers at McDonald Douglas after school, and in high school I worked at a print shop after school. I learned a lot about hard work and the value of money by having to actually go out and earn it.

I was basically a straight A student through the end of junior high school, so I was offered an opportunity to participate in an accelerated program in high school. The only problem is that I had to take a bus to a school in downtown, to a bad part of town. My mother wanted me to join the program because she knew it would help me, but she did not force me to go. She allowed me to decide for myself. In the end I decided to go, but on my first day of school I was frisked by security at the school entrance, and I was unable to use the restroom because kids were smoking pot in it. I wanted to leave.

I changed my mind about being in the program, but it was too late. The only way out was to fail out, so that's what I proceeded to do. I went from a 4.0 to a 1.7 GPA in one year, and they kicked me out. My mother was very disappointed, but she never yelled at me, and she never called me dumb. She just said that she knew I could do better. I ended up graduating high school with a 2.3 GPA.

I never took the SAT. I figured there was no point--I wasn't going to get into a top college, and I didn't really want to go to college. So I joined the Army Reserves while I was still a senior in high school. I was 17, so I needed my mother to sign for me, and she did. I ended up becoming a medic in the Army because I wanted to be like my mother, I wanted to save lives.

The military taught me an extremely valuable lesson in life. Self-discipline comes from within--it cannot be imposed. You can train yourself to do something because you fear the consequences, but that is NOT self-discipline--that is coercion. I succeeded because I wanted to succeed, not because I was forced to succeed. I did what was necessary because I wanted to do it.

Later I became a firefighter in the Air Force, and I was stationed in Japan. My mother was no longer there to hold my hand, but I knew that I was my own person and could do and become whatever I wanted. I wanted to learn Japanese, so I taught myself how to read, write and speak Japanese. After six years in the military I finally went to college full time, but by then I was paying for it, so I earned a 4.0 in philosophy from the University of Hawaii at Manoa.

After college I worked for Hawaii State Senator Matt Matsunaga, and then I was a Coordinator for International Relations with the Ibaraki Prefectural Government, Japan. Eventually I went to law school at UC Berkeley, became an attorney, worked for Venture Law Group, became an in-house attorney at Yahoo!, then a VP at Yahoo! Japan, an SVP at Experian, and most recently GM of Dell Japan's consumer business, a $500M per year P&L.

By most peoples' standards I am a success, but you would never have guessed that if you saw me in high school. In fact, if my mother had ostracized me and put me down for not living up to someone else's standards when I was young, then I probably would never have gained the self confidence to go out and achieve the things that I have.

Quite simply, I am who I am because my mother cleared the runway for me, and she gave me the courage to be my own person. My mother used to say to me, "Stop waiting for your ship to come in--there is no ship--start swimming!" My mother instilled in me an understanding of what it means to be my own person, and I chose what I wanted to become and then went out and became it. I have always charted my own course, but it was only because my mother taught me to trust in myself and to believe in myself, and because she was such an amazing role model.

I have two daughters, ages 10 and 12, and I believe my greatest duty to them is to teach them how to be independent, to think for themselves, and to believe in themselves. I will not always be there to catch them when they fall, but I can sleep better at night knowing that they will figure out how to survive and take care of themselves when I'm gone.

Lastly, I only have one wish for my daughters, and that is that they live happy and healthy lives. I cannot control what will happen to them in life, who they will meet, what opportunities they will seize or miss, or whether they will be rich or poor, but if they are happy and healthy, then that is all that matters.

The parent depicted in Amy Chua's WSJ excerpt (apparently just a provocative excerpt intended to drive sales of the book; see Christine Lu's answer) is the parental equivalent of a demanding, yet incompetent executive or manager. Such people understand that high standards and pushing your employees (or children) are necessary, but are totally at a loss about how to do it without breaking down human morale in the process. Such methods lead to short-term performance gains but no long-term success. I've known managers like this, who excoriate and belittle their underlings in an attempt to "motivate" them, and their people will certainly move forward, but always only to avoid further punishment. However, it never results in long-term greatness. Treating children in the same way has similar results.

I am also a child that is the envy of my parents' friends - "Carnegie-Mellon! Director of Engineering at Facebook! He plays the piano so well! Two grandchildren!" By the time my parents' friends got around to asking them if I was considering going to work for Google, the answer they got was that Google was already passé and I was on to the next great thing, a company they'd not yet heard of. By now I look like a genius, and when Facebook IPOs, there's a possibility that I will do pretty well by Chinese parent standards.

I had similar experiences with my mother when I was learning piano. She would sit with me for hours, correcting every little mistake I would make and pressing me repeatedly to get the song right. It was terrible and oppressive. Eventually I would perform to her satisfaction, and after years passed I attained a near-concert-pianist level of piano skill. I was the envy of other Chinese parents, who would admiringly ask my mom who my piano teacher was. However, my talent can only be described as robotic - my ability to play the piano is restricted solely to pure technical mimicry, devoid of any emotion. At one point, I attended a "piano camp" with other equally talented white students, and what struck me is that those students actually practiced for hours because they loved music, and genuinely practiced for hour after exhausting hour because they couldn't get enough of the emotional expression that piano afforded them. Piano held none of that for me - through rote practice, I had simply acquired the ability to simulate true talent - when I had to begin adding subtle pauses and fermatas to my playing to indicate emotional expression, I would simply do so as instructed - and enough to fool the judges in the various piano competitions into which I would occasionally be entered. I won some of those competitions, again to the envy of other Chinese parents.

Today, the emotionally draining oppression of 11 years of piano training has had a remarkably tragic effect: I can no longer play the piano without almost immediately feeling a sensation of impotent rage and frustration every time I make a small error (which happens all the time when you are trying out something new). Worse, the association of this feeling with music in general has made it so that I can't enjoy music to any deep degree - my appreciation of music extends only to light listening of pop songs in the car - despite years of technical training and knowledge of classical forms. After coming to this realization consciously a year ago, I've tried to overcome this by purchasing a keyboard (see What is the best 88-key electronic piano available? I don't want a built-in cabinet; it should sit on a separable stand.) and allowing myself to play "without obligation to getting it correct." I tried in vain for a few weeks and then the novelty of the keyboard wore off; today the keyboard sits unused in our living room.

My mother was similarly overbearing when it came to teaching me Chinese. Today my technical grounding in understanding spoken Chinese is pretty good, and in a pinch I can speak Mandarin without much of an accent. However, I have an extremely strong mental block against doing so - I will almost never do it voluntarily or for fun in conversation; when hanging out with other ethnic Chinese people I will speak in English and (perhaps more concerningly), I have a strange psychological aversion to speaking in Chinese to my own children, despite even the exhortations of my wife that doing so would be good for them.

In contrast, my parents were relatively restrictive and discouraging of my spending time on the computer and playing video games. Video games were restricted only to the weekends, and spending a lot of time on the computer was discouraged and generally thought of as an indulgence. As I became a little older, it seemed to become apparent to them that maybe computer programming was actually a viable career path, so in my early teen years my dad made some minimal efforts to encourage me by buying me a couple programming books, but otherwise still left me alone and occasionally continued to frown at how often I was just using the computer to play games. Being on the computer was one of my favorite ways to spend time, at least until I discovered girls.

The rest is [LinkedIn] history - I went to Carnegie-Mellon for computer science, finally being allowed to spend all the time I wanted on a computer, and luckily found my way into an industry where my passion is one that is pretty highly-paid.

I would characterize my parents' efforts as having been only halfway what Amy Chua describes: they pushed very strongly in a few areas (piano and Chinese), while doing a half-assed job in others (e.g. allowing me to have friends and dating, frowning vaguely at the computer). The result is that my life today is almost devoid of piano or other forms of music, as well as any actual speaking of Chinese, despite retaining high technical skill in both of those - e.g. when I was sent to China by Facebook with a couple of non-Chinese colleagues in 2008, I was able to converse with our native Chinese driver to get us to our hotel after we got lost. In contrast, I developed considerable skill in computers and - especially compared to my Chinese peers - relationship-building, communication, and people-management skills. The fact that they were relatively liberal during my teen years in allowing me to have a social life (and by social life I mean "chasing girls and staying out late") had a direct effect on developing my ability to communicate and connect with people, including later my ability to manage people and organizations.

My parents today are proud of what I've become, and when their overbearing-parent friends ask what their secret was, they proudly "brag" that it was because they didn't push me too hard and let me do my own thing. I've avoided speaking to them about the piano or Chinese thing.

What I see among other Chinese children whom I was raised alongside or whom I see in workplaces today is that this method of Chinese parenting is great at producing skilled and compliant knowledge workers, but it utterly fails to produce children who can achieve greatness, remake industries, or come up with disruptive innovation. All the Chinese-American people I know who now perform at the highest levels - both creatively and technically - either achieved this without being driven to it by their parents (ask Niniane Wang about her upbringing) or in rebellion against the paths their parents set out for them (see Tony Hsieh http://www.businessinsider.com/tony-hsieh-life-before-zappos-2010-10). The others - the skilled and compliant mediocre - make superb employees for the truly great, and if that is what their parents consider "successful," then that's exactly what they'll get.

Postscript: I am currently not speaking to my parents (for reasons only semi-related and more complex than the things described in this answer). This might change, but it's indicative of the sort of relationship I have now with them.

In a word, no.

The stereotypical model of Asian parenting described here is actually a misguided, but rational response to acute cultural and environmental constraints that immigrant parents face.

Think of a mother who immigrates to the U.S. and gets a job in engineering after
graduating from a university in Taiwan. Naturally, she wants her kids to have a slice of the "American Dream." Despite her middle-class income, she is almost totally ignorant about the dynamics of social mobility in America today. As a non-native English speaker who gets her information from Chinese friends/family and Chinese-language media, she doesn't have a nuanced understanding of elite prep school and college admissions, doesn't know exactly what skills and activities she should encourage her kids to develop, and only has a passing acquaintance with the diverse opportunities available to smart college grads in Silicon Valley, Washington, New York, etc.

So when it comes time to start grooming her kids for "success", the Asian parent has very little in the way of good information to work with. She doesn't know how to crack school admissions, beyond emphasizing the kind of standardized tests that were so crucial to her own success in Taiwan/Asia. She doesn't know what interests her kids should have, with the exception of what she sees in the surrounding Asian community--violin, piano, martial arts, math and science competitions. And given her experience as a perpetual foreigner in a country full of hidden cultural and racial barriers for those deemed insufficiently American, she assumes that the best chance for her children to succeed is to get day jobs in linear, meritocratic fields such as engineering, medicine, or business. Consequently, she sacrifices her time, money, and even youth to give her kids tutors, piano and violin lessons, prep courses galore.

The irony is that none of this is particularly useful. Good grades and stereotypical interests in piano and violin won't get you very far in today's college admissions process; it might even trigger negative stereotypes of mindless Asian automatons. Getting day jobs as engineers, consultants, doctors, or lawyers can ensure a comfortable standard of living, but it's a far cry from being a successful VC, CEO, Executive Director, or industry leader.

The problem is twofold. Asian parenting cultivates discipline and persistence, but talent, innovation, and vision are the most important variables in separating employees who make $100k a year from entrepreneurs who make $10 million in an IPO. At the same time, key social skills in leadership, teamwork, and communication are neglected. Schmoozing properly at a networking event is out of the question. But even if you have no interest in becoming Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerberg, creativity and leadership are invaluable in any profession.

Naturally, these ideas are difficult to grasp for Asian parents who immigrated to this country after spending twenty, thirty years steeped in Confucian culture, test-driven education systems, and societies with a limited opportunities for social advancement.

Amy Chua, however, is not a bona-fide Chinese mother; she was born and raised in the U.S., has firsthand experience with the institutional dynamics of a place like YLS, and married a white American. Why would she voluntarily reproduce the crude parenting strategies of first-generation immigrants deprived of the linguistic and cultural sensibilities necessary to understand social mobility in America?

I suspect the answer, as others referenced, is that she didn't--or that she eventually came around to a more balanced approach that incorporates the freewheeling, "indulgent" model of Western parenting with its more interventionist, and linear Asian counterpart. But the fact that she began from such an extreme position probably speaks to some unresolved personal issues concerning success and identity that her children unfortunately had to endure. After all, unlike the immigrant mothers who can credibly claim ignorance of the diverse pathways to success in America today, Amy Chua can, and should know better.

I think this parenting style works well on normal children. I'm not going to talk about my own experience- that falls well into the range of most of the anecdotes covered above. (I will say, though, that people should keep their children away from parenting / child development books. Seeing the difference between the styles Western writers of the books advocated and the style that my Chinese mother used on me was very jarring and made me have less respect for my family.) I'm going to talk about my little brother instead, who is special needs.

My little brother got measles with a very high fever when he was one and his developmental trajectory in everything except growth and gross motor skills pretty much stopped. A few years later, it was pretty obvious that his progress would not resume on its own, and my mother spent hours with him every day teaching him how to listen, how to speak, how to smile. Well, it worked: by 4th grade, he was in mainstreamed classes with an aide, and my 6th grade, the only thing he needed was for me to go around to all his teachers after school and check with them for any homework or upcoming tests.
Wait, why did I need to do that? Well, it was because my mother still expected her son to make As. Not 100's, like she expected her normally-developing daughter to make, but at least 90's. My brother constantly "forgot" to tell her about tests, especially math tests, because he knew that a test would mean hours of review, where he would be berated for his stupidity for hours.
My brother graduated on time from high school and even a local, non-prestigious college. (My parents weren't that delusional; besides, my mom wanted at least one child to live at home.) My mom chose his major, accounting, figuring that because accounting was easy for her it should be easy for him. She was wrong. Just as he only passed math in high school after hours of intensive review and screaming every single day, he only passed most of his classes in college after my mom tutored him extensively on every concept.
My brother is almost certainly a lot more skilled because of my mother's intervention. My mom was told in the beginning that he would never graduate from high school, and now, on paper at least, he looks pretty employable. However, in life he's a mess. He can't pass the CPA exam, so he has a degree in something he can't actually do (without lots of outside help, which my mom can't give him at a job). In any case, he is so afraid of doing anything that he won't even look for a job. He loves playing video games and writing fanfic (apparently, he has a lot of 13yr old fans on fanfic.net), but these are hobbies my mom hates, so he'll never turn that into employment. He sits at home, miserably, sneaking time on the computer and the console and getting more and more obese.
He's only 24, so there's time to change his life. But he's convinced that he's unable to accomplish anything of note without extensive help from my mom; he's not mentally skilled enough to challenge this assumption in his head. And if he ends up simply being a burden to my parents and eventually me, what was the point of all that work?

Parents should have high standards, but they need to match their expectations with what their children are actually capable of doing. And while you can call a smart child stupid and expect it to not stick, because everyone else is contradicting you, if you call a stupid child stupid it will.

I read Amy Chua's book the week it came out. It definitely hit some sore spots.
I have had to deal with many examples of it in my practice but as a number of previous posts have said, Asian families tend to push it more often than not, it seems. My concern is how a child gets the belief of who they are in a supportive non-scarring way. The following example from so long ago should have been a warning. Unfortunately, it has not been. This is an excerpt I found from John Stuart Mills autobiography.

James Mill had supervised his son's education personally, in an effort to prove how much time is wasted by conventional methods. Consequently, Mill knew Greek by the age of three, Latin slightly later, and at the age at which most children have little more on their minds than mastering the bicycle, he was in the habit of reading books and summarizing their arguments aloud for his father as they took their daily walk. He was trained to argue both sides of every question and taught that you had no right to a belief unless you understood the arguments for its opposite. His mind was made into a fine machine—a logic engine—to be put in the service of radical thought and practical reform. But four years before Mill met Mrs. Taylor, the machine had broken down.

"It occurred to me to put the question directly to myself: 'Suppose that all your objects in life were realized; that all the changes in institutions and opinions which you are looking forward to, could be completely effected at this very instant: would this be a great joy and happiness to you?' And an irrepressible self-consciousness distinctly answered, 'No!'"
At this my heart sank within me: the whole foundation on which my life was constructed fell down. All my happiness was to have been found in the continual pursuit of this end. The end had ceased to charm, and how could there ever again be any interest in the means? I seemed to have, nothing left to live for.

He was a well-equipped ship with a rudder but no sail; he was with-out desire, engulfed by "a drowsy, stifled, unimpassioned grief." The borrowing of Coleridge's words to describe his depression was significant, for utilitarianism provided no vocabulary for emotional states beyond the crudely quantitative "greatest happiness of the greatest number." That was part of the problem.

Mill's portrait of his emotional makeup and development in his autobiography is perhaps familiar: trained too early and too rigorously in logical analysis, he became unhealthily deficient in feeling. He began to believe – quite in opposition to orthodox utilitarianism — that cultivating the inner person was just as important as bettering a person's living conditions or improving the laws that shaped the outward circumstances of his life. Happily for children everywhere, Mill decided that his mental breakdown was the result of his relentless education and that there was more to life than was dreamed of in his father's philosophy. In the late 1820's, to cure his depression, he began to take doses of Wordsworth like doses of medicine. Poetry seemed "the very culture of the feelings" which he was in quest of, because, without feelings, the logic machine couldn't work, as he himself had discovered. Thought could provide goals, and means, but only emotion could provide the motive, the power, the desire to achieve those goals. Fortunately, the animating power of poetry could be embodied in people.

Added:
I sent Amy Chua a note after reading her book and hearing her interviews. I heard the controversy and was fairly appalled at the way the WSJ had probably published the most inflammatory chapter in her book. I actually thought the 11 pages of work one afternoon for the young daughter was worse. Yet there is something that is not as clear, which I am concerned is being over looked. And hear me clearly, I am not condoning her methods. It's just that there are more factors to some of the dynamics.

In “The Little White Donkey” Amy talks of Lulu's opposition and yet she persists. Lulu fights it as an “event”. When Lulu finally gets it, she then is all smiles and cuddles with her mother in bed. This is one of the clues of their relationship. The blessing of love is already established. There was honesty to the relationship back then. She just didn't like it, but knew her mother loved her.

Later, Lulu knew when Amy became dishonest and started doing it for herself, not Lulu. She was angry at her mother for not being truthful and by that time, her mother taught her to go to the mat to be honest. She tried to please her mom in spite of it for some time, but with her age, skill, and energy, it finally locked up.

Soon after the Red Square incident, where she had the final blow up, everything got back on track. Mouths later, when Amy hinted at the old performance program about Lulu's tennis, Lulu reminded her mom again with the injunction.

It is clear in the book, the girls know their mother loves them. This is the trait some of the other posters have as a problem. Is the attainment of perfection the only way to be accepted by our parents. Love should Never be attached to performance. Amy herself had to learn to buck her parents when she didn't marry a Chinese man and instead found a nice Jewish boy. Lulu stood up to her mom over and over to be herself and Amy allowed that to happen. Separating out who the child is, from their learning of choices, is critical for being healthy.

[Added]
I posted a list of a few books on authoritarian parenting.
Mike Leary's answer to Developmental Psychology: What are some good books on the consequences of authoritarian parenting?

[added]
If you can stand one more comment on this.
I was combining my iTunes list, when I ran onto one of my old favorite John Lennon songs.

Working class hero

As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

When they've tortured and scared you for twenty odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and class-less and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

There's room at the top they are telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
A working class hero is something to be

As she says, she is using the “Chinese mom” loosely. My family is mostly Central Asian.

I was not as strict as she was. My son attended sleepovers. But it was not acceptable for him to get less than an A, unless I knew some specific reason for it (there were a few teachers who genuinely hated gifted children). I spent lots of time with him on school work and life skills. By early high school, I was so disappointed with my local school system that I pulled him out and homeschooled him.

He got mono, and his work sent home while he was sick took us three hours — for a whole week of classwork. He was monumentally bored, and even though I was working a demanding job (from home) I knew he could learn more at home without formal teachers and public school LCD millstones weighing him down.

And he did. He took his GED and ranked 99%+ percentile. He was accepted to one of the finest military academies in the country. And based on a cert he got in the military, he’s pulling six figures in a job in pharma.

Based on my own disability (I was in a bad car accident, rear-ended by a drunk some years back, and never recovered) he is also caring for me — I live with him. We were always close, and he never had a rebellious phase. This is something far more common among the Asian families I know. Teen rebellion is far more common in “rugged individual” western cultures.

He is proud of how well we get on, but we’re not “buddies” as many American families try to be. We have fun, we enjoy each others’ company, and we also plainly tell each other sometimes that the other is a pain in the ass, but that’s what family is sometimes.

From the article:

In one study of 50 Western American mothers and 48 Chinese immigrant mothers, almost 70% of the Western mothers said either that "stressing academic success is not good for children" or that "parents need to foster the idea that learning is fun." By contrast, roughly 0% of the Chinese mothers felt the same way. Instead, the vast majority of the Chinese mothers said that they believe their children can be "the best" students, that "academic achievement reflects successful parenting," and that if children did not excel at school then there was "a problem" and parents "were not doing their job." Other studies indicate that compared to Western parents, Chinese parents spend approximately 10 times as long every day drilling academic activities with their children. By contrast, Western kids are more likely to participate in sports teams.

What Chinese parents understand is that nothing is fun until you're good at it. To get good at anything you have to work, and children on their own never want to work, which is why it is crucial to override their preferences. This often requires fortitude on the part of the parents because the child will resist; things are always hardest at the beginning, which is where Western parents tend to give up. But if done properly, the Chinese strategy produces a virtuous circle.

It’s not quite true that you have to override their preferences. You can also social engineer them into finding fun in learning, but you can’t expect them to learn from experiences without guidance.

I played computer games like Civilization with my kid, and before that, I taught him reading and math when he was five by making playing Pokemon a condition of getting him the cards. I spent hours and hours playing Pokemon CCG as a learning tool. I did not play Legos on the floor with him.

I got him toys and books which I knew would teach him things even if he didn’t understand he was being taught. No walk around the neighborhood was without educational value, as we would talk about how houses were built, or why “tree” wasn’t a family of plants but an adaptation of many different species to the same evolutionary pressures. I taught him how to climb and how to fall with relative safety (when he was doing hand to hand in the military, his sergeant asked, “Who taught you to fall like that, Averett?” and he responded, “Sir, my mom, sir!” and the sergeant thought he was sassing him!).

First, I've noticed that Western parents are extremely anxious about their children's self-esteem.

Esteem comes from mastery. It does not lead to mastery. If a child believes they have met adult expectations they will — often — stop trying.

Chinese parents demand perfect grades because they believe that their child can get them. If their child doesn't get them, the Chinese parent assumes it's because the child didn't work hard enough.

My own mother was Jewish and half Asian. It’s definitely not just Asians who do this. Look at the general record of achievement in Jewish families — in both cases it comes from social mobility through literacy for literally thousands of years. Mandarins, Brahmins, Muslims, Jews. But somehow, very few people who come from Christian-dominated cultures, in my acquaintance.

Western countries have used withholding literacy as a social control on their masses for centuries. Non-western cultures have made literacy the only way out of poverty.

Second, Chinese parents believe that their kids owe them everything. The reason for this is a little unclear, but it's probably a combination of Confucian filial piety and the fact that the parents have sacrificed and done so much for their children.

I told my son when he was small, I spent all this time with him because I loved him, but also because as a mom, it was my job to set him on the path to be the most successful adult he could be, and pointed out early that when I was spending time with him, it was time I could more enjoyably spend on my own or with my age-peers. This was not a guilt trip — it was a way for him to understand that I thought he was that valuable, and to value our time together, learning.

Third, Chinese parents believe that they know what is best for their children and therefore override all of their children's own desires and preferences.

Here’s where I differ with Ms. Chua. I believe I knew what was best (but always kept enough doubt and flex to re-evaluate as time went on). And one of the most important jobs I had was to harmonize my son’s preferences to what was best for him. I was not the absolute authority — I was the person who helped him understand the best thing for him.

We also relied a great deal on contracts — written contracts — regarding behavior. My son could say, “I want to go to bed one hour later.” So we would set up a contract. If he could do his homework by 2h before bedtime, then in the morning, get up, be cheerful, not forget things, get to school, be alert, not be sleepy in the afternoons — for two weeks? He could extend his bedtime. We wrote it down, and checklisted it daily for two weeks. At the end of two weeks we assessed the experiment and decided if it was good enough. It almost never was — but then it was his capacity, not my authority, that had made or broken the change, and it was never unreasonable. But it was not permissive — it was strict.

I taught him to self-assess and self-regulate — skills he’d need as an adult. And these are skills I think very few “Chinese parents” instill, nor western parents.

When my mother got sick with Parkinson’s and Lewy body dementia, he saw me take her out of the nursing home and bring her to live with us for an extra seven years. Neither of my brothers were willing to deal with her. So it’s not like it’s genetic, but in my case, it was passed on.

Ok, I'll take the unpopular position and say that I was helped by the type of "hot house" parenting technique that many seem to see as detrimental to their mental health.

At this point all the Na brothers are well-adjusted, happy individuals who contribute to society (even the one who's a slacker without a day job). None of us ever considered suicide or becoming an axe-murderer. 2 of us went to Cal Berkeley, and one went to UCSD despite being wait-listed for MIT (a clear result of anti-Asian sentiment at that school --- he was the salutatorian at his high school, a highly ranked school district). We are all also the type of people whom doctors are amazed at because we'll actually make lifestyle changes to resolve health problems, and our doctors actually have a hard time believing the kinds of results you get when you actually follow a prescription in spirit, not just in letter.

I will note that there are many successful people who're not the result of such "hot house" parenting techniques, and that many such people are also unhappy. Happiness has very little to do with the kind of success that Steve Jobs is associated with, for instance, and I think if you aim to have happy kids, it's not the same thing as aiming to have a kid who was the next Mark Zuckerberg, for instance.

More thoughts on the subject: http://piaw.blogspot.com/2011/01/tiger-mom-parenting-controversy.html

Comments on Chua's book promotion aside (and yes, we'd be amiss not to think about the economic context of the WSJ article)--I don't read this as a piece about Chinese moms. I read this as a piece about the lack of interest in education among the dominant American culture. A few years ago, I had my shoulder repaired. When I was in PT, I was absolutely shocked at the number of kids, as young as 8, who were rehabbing from knee repairs (ACL surgery), ankle injuries, elbows, you name it. It's not that Americans aren't interested in promoting excellence, it's that Americans think education is effete, intellectual, snobbish, all of that. If you want to hear an Anglo-European parent berating a child for being less than perfect, don't go to a piano recital; go to a Little League ball game.

Chinese Moms wouldn't be perceived as a threat if Americans valued education as much as they valued sports and other activities. There are certainly better educational solutions than pressuring your child into one-sided academic excellence. Just as certainly, a certain amount of pressure is necessary to keep kids from drifting into uncritical mediocrity. But that isn't the issue here--the real issue is that people in the dominant culture feel threatened by people who think that education as such is important, even if the "tiger Mom" approach to education is inadequate. Decide that education is important, and you're in a position to have a discussion about what methods are effective.

Rather than "Why Chinese Mothers are Superior", it should read "Why Overachieving Overseas Chinese Mothers with Elite Jobs and a lot of Face to Save are Superior". The fact that so many Quora users have replied above stating that they were raised in a way similar to Amy Chua's style tells you that this sort of parenting has a high probability of producing the elite people you tend to find on this site. However, how common is this style of parenting among Chinese families really?

If you've spent any time in China at all, you'll find that a proper sampling of the population includes its fair share of slacker families and happy-go-lucky moms. Amy Chua is not a typical Chinese mother. She is a typical Chinese mother only if you constrain yourself to looking at well-educated upper-middle class overseas Chinese women.

Thanks for reinforcing stereotypes about your own race, Amy.

The stereotypical Chinese/Asian parenting style speaks to the well-known cultural obligation of honoring one's family name and never "lose face." It's not really about raising the children. The truth is, a lot of Chinese parents are very hard on their children because:

• They want the young ones to have what they didn't have or couldn't do while they were younger, e.g., music lessons.
• They need the next generation to carry on the family tradition (certain career fields, businesses or position in society).
• They're hungry for bragging rights among their friends.

To many Chinese people of our generation and earlier, life is a string of obligations. Meeting them = success and pride. Abandoning them = failure and shame. There's not much said about the pursuit of happiness and personal fulfillment. We're supposed to do what we're supposed to do to make our family look good, and to prepare ourselves to do the same for the next generation. And so goes the Chinese circle of life.

Background: I'm the oldest of 3 children. My father taught Chinese literature and history all his life. My mother was a stay-at-home mom when we were younger. I began piano and ballet lessons at 3yo, graduated from kindergarten top of my class, and attended the most academically excellent boarding school. My chronic insomnia and caffeine addition began at age 13. I'm now a mother to a 16yo son who does not get straight A's.

Mine certainly was (superior), but she sure wasn't the type that Amy Chua describes.

To generalize is silly. I don't think Ms. Chua makes her case convincingly. She defines success in parenting too narrowly I think. I've known lots of children raised in that style of parenting who are emotional messes, very deeply scarred. I'm grateful that my parents were at least aware of Dr. Benjamin Spock and took a more balanced approach with the four of us. We didn't turn out too badly: two Cal grads, two Stanford among the sibs, all of us doing well enough in our chosen professions, with no criminal records or utterly dysfunctional relationships.

To be sure, in her op/ed piece makes clear that she uses "Chinese mothers" as a stand-in for a style of parenting decidedly at odds with the self-esteem-obsessed, nurturative style of much contemporary American parenting. While I think that style is certainly due for some criticism and it's a good thing for all parents to think about these issues regularly, I personally found her argument to be way over-the-top, advocating what strikes me as an absurdly extreme position. Surely there's something between her absolutist, autocratic style of tough love she preaches (and apparently practices) and the namby-pamby approach she rails against.

Chinese mothers are not superior and here's why.

Jewish Americans are more successful than Chinese Americans and therefore are "superior" in Amy Chua's terminology. Here's a link to an example of pure Jewish chauvinism http://www.jewishachievement.com/about/about.html that gives you a sense of how Jewish Americans who are only 2% of the population and Jewish people who are only 1 in 500 in the planet fare.

But never mind the debate. Amy Chua's kids get superiority from both parents because in any case, Amy Chua is married to a Jewish American. For some reason however, he gets no credit as a father in the story of the two daughters education. This is wrong both from a moral point of view but also from a sociological point of view, as Amy Chua's conclusions are based on a sample of only two, and this sample is biased by the presence of a Jewish father. This father has contributed Jewish parenting which is very different from Chinese mothering and probably a good balancing act to what I see as an unnecessary brutal style that could very well backfire. Indeed China is the country in the world with the highest female suicide rate http://nitawriter.wordpress.com/2007/05/11/suicide-rates-of-the-world/ this very sad fact makes Chinese mother certainly not superior and deserves some studying.

Now my credentials. I am a Jewish father of 4 kids ages 20 to 4 with the two eldest at Columbia University and NYU. As a Jewish father I can say that we are very different from Chinese mothers. Here are some highlights of what I would call Jewish parenting.

-we work jointly with mothers, both parents are very involved with the kids education, even in case of divorced and remarried parents such as mine.

-we never call our kids "garbage", on the contrary, as the term JAP implies, for us they are....royalty. We spoil them, but it works. Our kids are the best simply because they are.

-we are our kids number one fans. We bore others with stories of how bright our kids are.

-if they get a bad grade we go and fight it out with the teacher. Jewish kids may get better grades because teachers are tired of dealing with their parents. We don't do this to break the rules, we do it because we are truly convinced our kids are the next Einsteins and the teachers are just blind. Once my daughter Isabella got a D and I went to tell her Math teacher that no Varsavsky had had a D and that my father had graduated as an astrophysicist at Harvard (as if it mattered). While the British lady did not change her mind but that was Isa's one and only D.

-we look for originality in their thinking, we want them to be funny, to come up with unexpected solutions to problems, to be almost irreverent. When they talk back we are secretly happy that they have a personality.

-we want them to be liked and appreciated by their friends, their peers, we want them to have a social life, to fall in love. When they are unhappy we suffer.

I could go on but I think you see where I am headed. And by the way, being a Jewish parent is also an attitude or culture and has little to do with religion. While I celebrate the Jewish holidays I believe that the world as described by the Bible is most likely imaginary. But it is a good story, a Jewish story.

Since I'm Asian and have experienced either directly or through watching friends grow up in Amy Chua's parenting environment, I thought I'd weigh in with this comment.

In life, the more risk you take, the greater the potential for a reward OR the potential for great failure. So you push your kids and use negative reinforcement and you create an environment where you force kids to be more than they are today. However, as much as there are exceptional positive results from creating such a driving, demanding environment, I think the probability of something going south is also much greater, such as rebellion, rejection, or even suicide as written about here. The kids either adapt or rebel. Or they exhibit excellence in some areas and very negative aspects in others. We start seeing a lot of extremes in results among the population, whether they are super positive or super negative.

Whether this is good or bad is an entirely different question to answer. I think I once read that many "great" people throughout history had very challenging childhoods. Someone should write a book about "great" people who had relatively non-challenging childhoods to prove that *not* having demanding, driving parents can still create greatness.

disclaimer: this has been crossposted to ourwaytofall.com

since i finally finished the book last night (and unlike others, have actually bothered reading it before weighing in), i thought i would share some thoughts.

first of all – i loved the book. it was funny, thoughtful, self aware and very self deprecating, and the parallels between Amy Chua’s children and how i was raised are unbelievably similar. there were parts where i was actually laughing out loud, and the experiences she describes were never shocking to me, instead, i found myself nodding along and being able to relate with both the reactions of her children and her descriptions and rationale of her actions. yes, there are times when she crossed lines & wavered dangerously close to crazy, but again, this book is a memoir on the failings and successes of a woman parenting her children in the best way she knows how – it is not a How To guidebook, nor does it ever come off as the superior authority on parenting across the board.

what is clear from the book and very unclear from the articles & discussions is that Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother is a lesson in learning to balance the sometimes unrealistic dreams of a parent with the desires and abilities of a child. i was also a child violin prodigy, shuttled off to endless lessons, up to 8 hours of practice a day, and making my Carnegie Hall debut at the same time as Chua’s eldest child. i also actually did a masterclass with one of the teachers that Chua talks about in her book, which was a complete blast from the past, but the violin stuff is another story for another day. one thing i will point out though is that the majority of the anecdotes in the book relate to a child who is playing an instrument at a competitive level, something that takes an unbelievable amount of dedication and energy. i believe that any parent of any race who has a child who is playing at this level will be able to relate to at least some of the battles that are waged – no child (or very very few) can handle the many hours of practice a day (and lessons and rehearsals and competitions) it takes without some kind of excessive encouragement, be it the “right” or “wrong” kind.

the similarities also extend to the way that her daughters were pushed, what Western parents would categorize as abuse, i simply look back on as the best way my mother knew to motivate me. like Chua’s youngest daughter, i was rebellious, extremely hyper-active, terribly precocious and unwilling (or unable) to put my mind to learning unless there was someone standing over me, threatening success or death. yes, i hated my mother as a child, yes i thought she was insane, horrible, mean and vindictive, but as an adult there has never been a moment where i regretted the way i was raised – the experiences i gained through my mothers relentless drive (not to mention the literally hundreds of thousands of dollars spent, countless hours and years and years of turmoil) gave me the tools to be successful and the ability to face this world head on. never once as an adult have i ever doubted that my mother ever wanted anything less than the best for me, and while we are close now and have a good relationship, as a child i did not need to be best friends with her and even then, this was something i recognized and accepted.

i did not come away scarred from my experience (or any more so than any other child – all parents make mistakes), and this is not to take away from anyone who did experience a similar childhood and is still dealing with the after-effects. the bottom line is that the book is entertaining, thought provoking and definitely worth a read, but like the author, flawed and un-apologetically so. parenting is a journey that will be different for each & every mother or father, and at best Amy Chua’s experiences have made me think about what kind of mother I want to be, and how I will take the lessons from how I was raised and how i will pass them on to my children.

Amy Chua's methods are definitely extreme. The negatives can not be understated such as demeaning her kids and cutting off any social activities that foster life skills of teamwork, creativity, and social interaction. I think it is very short sighted.

Overcoming obstacles, and striving to achieve is good but at a draconian expense of everything else is not. It builds a wobbly foundation that doesn't prepare kids to be able to face the business world which is built on collaboration and more emotional intelligence skills.

Ever hear of the glass ceiling? The glass ceiling is in part due to the inability of stellar individual performers being unable to make the jump to roles which value teamwork, self esteem, leadership, and collaboration.

As many people have already said, that op-ed took just a small fraction of Amy Chua’s memoir for promotional purposes. Her memoir is much more fleshed out. Though it doesn’t really give voice to her children, who had to endure her tiger parenting.

As a child of tiger parents in a family full of tiger parents, my experience wasn’t so good. The majority of my relatives are medical or dental professionals. There is a slim chance that all of them actually wanted to become medical professionals and most likely became one because their parents wanted them to be. They have good stable jobs and make good money.

I myself am a dental student. I don’t like dentistry, but I am in dental school because my parents want me to be a dentist. I feel lost and regret having spend so much time on academics and studying, instead of pursuing interests and hobbies when I was younger. I always feel empty and restless because I’m not doing something I want. I also feel like I am suffocating, like I can’t breathe, at times because dentistry goes against everything that I believe in.

However, when I graduate, I will be able to find a good-paying job that is highly respected, stable and where I am be my own boss (all reasons that my parents give for becoming a medical professional).

Did I wish that my parents weren’t tiger parents? Yes. I wished that they allowed me to pursue my interests and hobbies. We see so many people able to pursue their dreams with the encouragement and support of their parents. It sucks that I won’t be able to know what that feels like…

As my parents emphasized the importance of academics, I wasn’t encouraged to have a social life. I was quite sheltered. On top of that, I grew up with my parents laughing at my dreams. Thus, I kept to myself and never learned to assert myself. Still to this day, I have trouble stating what I want and am utterly horrible when it comes to confrontations. I have to give myself pep talks before I make a phone call or before I go to meet a faculty member. Practice makes perfect though, I guess.

This sounds like I hate my parents. But I don’t. I love them and I owe them everything. They escaped Vietnam and were able to become medical professionals in a new country. Unfortunately, because I love them, I felt like I was trapped. I couldn’t cut ties with them because I felt like I owed them so much. But they were suffocating me (in a sense). It sucks that they still think that medical professions are the only good jobs though.

I’ve started blogging in hopes that something will come out of it (though I doubt it) so that I won’t have to actually become a dentist once I finish dental school…

Without getting into the individual merits of this methodology of parenting, my take on this would be a bit different. Amy Chua's book reminds me of Moneyball, in the sense that it is "zigging when everyone else is zagging".

Currently, the United States parenting model is more often too lenient than it is too strict. Therefore, there is an opportunity for the "Chinese Model" here in the United States to take advantage of this "undervaluing" of this method.

In other words, if I was writing a parenting book in China, I'd probably advocate the American "too lenient" method, simply because the opportunities would be "flipped", so to speak.

Wow, just wow. First, thanks to Christine Lu for sharing her story, and for helping other individuals/families who have dealt with similar situations, and even prevented other tragedies from occurring. I also discovered this Quora thread via her tweet.

Also, to be clear, my response is to the comparison of different parenting styles. We can judge differences on societal pressures by country or region all we want, and while that is a contributor to parenting styles, I do not think it is the core root of why Chinese or Asian mothers in the US might seem to take different approaches than their Western counterparts (I will argue later why it isn't even a comparison of Chinese vs. Western).

One shocking thing, which I am surprised that few have touched upon thus far, is calling Amy out on the root of the "Chinese Mother" stereotype. If you surveyed Chinese mother's on why they approach parenthood the way they do, I guarantee you they will not say "to make others think of them as successful parents" or "to ruin the lives of their children". it would seem clear to me that they simply "want their children to have the best chance at success", and we all know everyone has different criteria to measure that word by. I imagine in the minds of Chinese mothers, many of whom immigrated to the US, success entails a successful career and financial success.

My mother was born in Taiwan, and immigrated to the US to study for her Masters. She did not come from a wealthy family, so she had to rely on a scholarship and other financial aid to come to the US. She earned 2 Masters Degrees, and currently holds an executive management position in an industry where all of her peers have Ph.D's - and she learned almost all of her English language skills after moving to the US. She was not a housewife, but rather juggled a full-time job while raising me and my sister (with the help of my equally awesome Chinese Father).

I definitely fit many of the stereotypes of Chinese children listed above - Grades were important in my house, I studied both piano and violin starting at age 4, I went to academic focused summer camps from an early age, and even did pre-college programs at both UPenn and Columbia, before enrolling at Wharton undergrad. I also visited almost every national park in the US and visited most major art museums, because my mom wanted me to have a sense of culture. The motivation for all of these activities encouraged by my mom, was that she felt that they would each in some way help me succeed in life, that by doing this activities or studying these things or visiting these places, I would increase my knowledge and thirst for knowledge that she equated with success.

I love my mother and she is the person I most look up to in this world. I am definitely lucky that her definition of success wasn't so rigid that she lost site of letting me live a fun and social life, especially after reading some of the stories above. Piano and Violin never became "robotic" for me, and music is one of the things I enjoy most - early exposure to classical music ultimately fueled my general interest in music, as I took up percussion and specifically timpani in HS and even played a little at Penn. Today, one of the things I enjoy most is traveling around the country and attending music festivals that feature all genres of music.

I disagree with almost everything in Amy's article, and when it comes to parenting, she makes it seem so binary. Western vs. Chinese. Freedom vs. Dictatorship. Right vs. Wrong. I imagine nothing could be further from the truth. At the end of the day, I would take a parent who cares about the future of their child over a parent who doesn't - that statement does not rationalize or justify what methods parents choose to deploy in expressing that care or concern, it is just a statement of a general approach to parenting. There are many ways to demonstrate that you care for the future of your child, and many ways employed by both Chinese and Western moms for sure. It just seems like that op/ed piece turns a blind eye towards them, and tries to paint everything in a black or white fashion that not only doesn't make any sense, but sounds plain ignorant.

I love my Chinese mother. I absolutely hate Amy's op/ed piece, and love how she tried to defer some of the fire from this discussion by not claiming responsibility for the title of the piece (I think most of this thread is discussing the contents, not title, Amy).

I want to offer another way of viewing this question. Amy Chua wrote about what certain "Chinese mothers" do to raise "successful children" but I've always wondered why certain "Chinese mothers" do this.

Assuming that Amy has defined the subset of "Chinese mothers" to be international or at maximum one generation in, many values that these mothers draw upon are from their homeland in China. There is a strong notion in China of the need to save face as Nicholas Wang mentions in the 10th comment under Christine Lu's answer. So strong that the parents view their children to represent them in society and if society looks down upon the child, the parents are looked down upon for poor parenting.

Now with that in mind, the parent wants to best prepare their child for the future because they believe that will protect them and make them successful. From their experience, certain things like money and power which derive from being smart and going to a good school or career which derive from a lot of studying and extra-curricular activities (instrument) are the root of the whole matter.

But above all, I believe that no matter who you are, as a parent and especially as a mother you just want your child to be happy. Sadly the "Chinese mother" believes that the things mentioned above will guarantee to make the child happy but that is obviously not always the case which Amy chose to overlook. This is typical for many stubborn parents which can actually lead to very unsuccessful lives in the future.

Luckily this was not the case for me as my parents were very understanding and I still tended to do well. My mom always jokes about how crazy some parents can be. She talks of all her friends who would practice endlessly to be genius violinists or pianists but now they've all settled down and haven't touched the instrument in years. I was also very self-motivated to achieve and derived my own happiness from that, rather than my parents', although they are very happy for that too.

We can also turn the question around and ask, why don't certain "American mothers" raise their children like this. Why do they make excuses when the child is not trying their hardest and why are they so concerned about their self-esteem? Trying not to generalize here but in several instances where I've seen this, the general mentality was "I only have to take care of the kid until he's 18 and then he'll fend for himself."

Also a joke I've been telling friends lately that I think sums some things up,

It's not fair, when a white kid gets sick their mom always goes, "Awww are you okay? Feel better, let me make you soup and take the day off tomorrow!" When an asian kid gets sick their mom goes, "See, you should've listened to me and worn more clothes! Now you are sick and can't study!"

I used to be one of the those high achieving asian american woman who was prone to suicide. I had depression when I was 18. It lasted almost 3 years. I saw 2 psychologists. I ended up switching from a pretty decent university to a third rated university. Half of the contribution of my depression is family based. My mother died when I was 14. I was brought up by a single father who was never around because he had to make ends meet. I actually was pretty free when I was a kid. I did whatever I wanted. I am very glad for this arrangement because I can never stand my father.

I noticed that my father

• have limited emotional connection with my brother and I

He does not think our emotional well being is important at all. He only cares if we are fed, clothed, sheltered and married. It does not matter if we are happy or not, don't even talk about confidence and outspokenness.

Also it does not matter who we married as long as its the opposite sex and someone who belongs to the Chinese race.

My brother ran away from home at 20 to California. We saw him for 2-3 weeks every year or so when he comes back to visit. Even now that he is 33 he could never voluntary call my father to talk to him. Just the sound of my father's voice will drive my brother away.

The problem is my father

look at both my brother and I in the eye with very little respect but as a superior to his employees/underling and always very judgmental about where we are in life. This was the thing that my brother hated the most.

Since we are his children, we are supposed to belong to him no matter how old we are or how successful we are. We will always be below him.

My parents gave birth to us because they want us to live a life that they never had and also its a reason for them to get up and continue on every morning.

My mother was the pillar in the family. She was the one who pampered us, talked to us, played with us, laughed with us and understand us. My brother and I talked really freely to her but freeze whenever my father was around.

Sadly I have another asian american female friend that has been battling ongoing depression/unhappiness for a couple of years and her family did contribute to it. I too have met asian american women that are having a very bad time.

I have two asian american male friends that are very well prized because they are male children in their Chinese family. Their mothers call them whenever they go out, bring them food, wash their clothing, and kept them in their house because the mothers are afraid that something bad will happen to their boys. As a result these boys never had girlfriends, has little to no directions in life, do what their parents tell them and walk out in the street expecting to be treated like kings.

Chinese parents are not superior parents at all !

In one word, the answer is a strong no.
Why? Let us listen to what Kahlil Gibran (poet) has to say on this subject:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

— Kahlil Gibran

Dear Christine, thank you very much for your sharing. I am deeply deeply sorry for your loss. (Since my comment is too long, I put it here.)

I was lucky because I tried the same action but in the end I stopped. I was raised up by a Chinese mum. The phrases she used most were "Everything I do is the best for you. So you should ..." I never knew whether she ever loved me or she just loved something which she built to show off. If someday I could not bring "face" to her any more, whether she would still tell others that I am her daughter. I had been living together with my aunt's family for long time because she believed living with them was better for my education and she also needed to finish some courses for her promotion at the same time....Here it's hard for me to express my feelings ... At the end I thought I couldn't stand it anymore and tried to commit suicide once when I was 15-years-old, in a summer. Because I wanted to know whether she would cry and how long she would feel sad about losing me. I imaged that after I was dead my spirit would float in the air and I could watch her cry, scream and maybe regret -- at least I hoped she would do these for me.

I was in her office alone. I hit all the bottles with nutrition pills, given by her in order to keep me in a good physical situation for studying, on the floor, cut my hands with glass fragments and wrote "I hate you" on her big, glossy and black wooded bossy desk with my blood, enjoying the imagination that how sad she would be when she knew that I hated her. But while I was cutting my artery, the blood dried very quickly on the glossy surface and the dried blood just looked like a group of brown m&m chocolate beans scattered on a big working desk. A JOKE -- that's all come to my mind. All I wanted was her attention and her care. But this is my life. Without her care, I should care more about myself.

After that, I stopped arguing and even talking with her. 1 year later, I went to the university which has the best CS in China. Even though we were still in the same city, I seldom visited my parents. She visited me often. Her words every time were the same, such as, "how was your study", "how was your relationship with your classmates and your supervisor", "you should study hard", "try to join labs' projects", etc. Every time, I gave the same answer to all -- "ok".

Once she visited me in the evening with a shaddock. She told me that she found the kind of shaddock was super delicious, so she brought one to me. And then she started peeling off the skin. Without any reason, my tears came into my eyes. Sounds very very silly. But it was one of very few times that I felt warm in a parent-child relationship. Honestly, she was not really good at the work. In the end, she told me that I should also eat the core together with this thin white layer because the layer could be used as a material of TCM, so it must be healthy. I smiled and was glad to finish whatever she asked me to eat. Later, when she called me with the same
questions, the first time I complained to her that she should try to avoid the same questions but talk about something else with me, for example, how is my life, whether I am happy, etc. Then, the second day she called me again, we had a conversation

After we said "hi" to each other, she asked "How is your life"
I told her "mmmmm, good."
..... (10 seconds pause)
My mum continued "how is the weather"
I answered "Mum, we are in the same city"
My mum "Oh, yes" ....
.... ( 20 seconds pause)
My mum "are you happy"
I said "yes, it's fine, nothing really special. "
.... (1 mins pause)
My mum continued "Mmmm, I have nothing else."

Suddenly, I could not help laughing. My mum was lost and asked what happened. I told her "mum, I am happy". I laughed because I was thinking maybe I was too bias because I also never tried to understand her. I should be more rational and objective towards her and the relationship. She is a very tough lady and would never asked herself how was her life and whether she was happy. She came from how she was raised up, wadding through great leap forward, culture revolution and evolution and open. If I could know her more, I would not come to the conclusion that she did not love me in haste. From that moment on, I started believing that she loved me and she used her way to care me. From that day on, I considered her as a mother who was learning and I was a daughter who tried to be better.

After my graduation, I was recommended to another top graduate school in Shanghai and later I have moved to Germany. Even though the physical distance between us are getting longer and longer, our relationship is getting closer and closer. We exchange opinions and experience about life and value. Unfortunately, we have a new ramification towards my decision of my life at this time. But I am confidently that one day she will understand me and accept my decision for my own life.

BTW, last year, when we talked about the depression symptoms, I told her that once I commit suicide because at that time I really hated her. One minute ago, she was sympathetic to everybody who suffers depression. Just a minute later, she changed to a speechless and scornful face, implying that as my daughter how could you be
so weak and how couldn't you understand that whatever I did was the best for you. I couldn't help laughing again. I hold her and told her "no doubt, you are the best mum ever". She was relieved. As Amy Chua said Chinese parents think their children are the strongest, my mum would never believe that I really intended to commit a suicide. Moreover, Chinese parents believe that their kids own them everything. My understanding and compliment were the best award that she expected. And now, my care is the everything she is expecting.

I agree there are mothers that are exactly like Amy, but I for one, did not have a mother like that and I grew up in China. (Note, I'm not representing any opinions of other moms or how other kids were taught in China, just my own mom and how she taught me.)

Yes, my mother let me watch TV and play video games. As long as I finished my homework (with best efforts to achieve the best grade possible), I was allowed to do whatever I wanted.

Yes, I had a choice of playing different instruments. Eventually, I did end up playing the violin after a stint of the flute and saxophone. I realized how horrible I sounded when I played the first two instruments (around the age of 5-6) and naturally switched to playing the violin by choice, which made me want to play the instrument more and not because my parents "forced" me to play it. And believe me, I was good at playing the violin.

Yes, I went to sleepovers, had play dates and was allowed to have boyfriends. As long as I had my priorities straight (get good grades, have lots of extracurricular activities *explained later*, etc.), I was allowed to make my own choices on what I did with my free time. My mom would always say to me "as long as you are aware of your own time."

Yes, I was in the school play, multiple times and had lead roles. I also did ballet and was in multiple varsity-equivalent sports teams. (Note, there are school plays in China and yes there are "extracurricular" activities as well.)

And yes, I did get the seldom "lesser than A" equivalent grade and yes my parents were disappointed, but never did they ever call me "garbage" or would they see the need to buy a thousand books to tutor me in the "supposedly failed" subject. In contrast, I was more disappointed in myself and that I hadn't managed my time properly and should have devoted more time in studying that subject.

I agree I was a perfectionist when I was a kid, but it was never nurtured out of me, but became something I nurtured out of myself.

Occasionally I did get spanked, but never more than what was expected in any parent for sneaking out of the house or breaking my mom's favorite vase when I was little.

I was taught at a young age to think for myself and be given choices to choose from and to live with the consequences of those choices. I did fail one or more times growing up and was sat down by parents, never to scold me, but to be asked what I thought I did wrong and what I learned from this choice.

I studied hard when I was kid, but it was never by force and always by choice.

I do agree that not all moms did what mine did when I was young, but there are a lot of "Chinese" moms that are like my mom and we grow up to be just fine and just as successful as our counterparts.

And to that, I just hope that everyone is aware that there are other forms of Chinese parenting and no there shouldn't be a stereotype of the "Chinese" mom being harsh and unforgiving.

I am Japanese, not Chinese, but I think there is something I find valuable in what Amy Chua says in the article. I think there is something special about the daughter in the story finally being able to play the piano piece and finding that obstacles can be conquered, that there are rewards for things you sometimes do even if its not what you want to do.

I feel there is a pernicious problem with an "American" parenting method of protecting kids from all sorts of discomfort and caring only if something boosts a kid's self-confidence. The real world is full of objective criteria of excellence - not every work is A, just because it makes you feel good.

Without some "coercion" kids often don't have the opportunity or self-control to achieve high levels of excellence in anything - and will never know the joy of achievement.