I “ran away” from home at the age of 25, although theoretically it’s way above the legal age to do so, effectively leaving behind my widowed mother and two younger siblings. The drama is all due to her not wanting me to leave the nest. As I was raised with traditional Chinese values, this action of mine is seen as a betrayal of the concept of filial piety, worst still as I’m the eldest child of the family. Rather than trying to justify my actions as being right and her expectations wrong, I would like to examine the notions of it.
In traditional Chinese families, the parents are supposed to raise and educate their children in the best way possible so that they may grow up to be honorable adults. Children they could be proud of in every sense of the word, and should they “bring shame” to the family, they could even be disowned. This ties in to the cultural manifestation of Tiger Moms which is now on Western attention thanks to Amy Chua, the author of The Battle Hymm of the Tiger Mother. I myself am a product of this tiger training, and I would say that my mother was a very successful one at that and I hold my utmost respect to her for the full-time dedication to mold me into someone who strives for excellence. But, it comes at a steep price.
Now, a little background about me. Since 6 years old, I’ve received private piano lessons and graduated the 8th Grade with Merit, also had a couple of years of violin lessons due to my own choice (in case I wanted to pursue a musical career), had constant school tuitions which ensured that I graduated with Honors in high school, proud to be a Prefect throughout those years, held responsible positions in at least 3 extracurricular clubs, oversaw and painted murals on the school walls, won a couple of national awards when I was 19 and 20 with the climax of it all by representing my own country to carry out a project in Spain. I was on newspapers and TV channels and my parents couldn’t be prouder of me. My father’s friends even told me how he was beaming so much about my “achievement” and I saw that they’re genuinely happy for me.
Up until I was 22, I truly believed that I had a charmed life. After all, I’ve done what other youths like me could only dream about and I had supportive parents who allowed me to choose my own major in college. My father was a successful businessman with the rare quality of integrity and he always gives to us before giving to himself. His old habits never changed and even though he could easily afford wearing silk ties, he chose to wear 20-bucks ties instead. He brought our family of five to overseas trips every year since I was 13. It all ended when my father was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and he passed away within 7 months when I was 22. Everyone who knew him were utterly shocked and deeply saddened. But my world, needless to say, simply crumbled to unrecognizable pieces.
Unbeknownst to me, I have lived all my life trying to prove myself to him. Since he has left, I was lost without someone to prove myself to. I believe that I didn’t properly grief his death until now. In fact, due to my specific Buddhist beliefs, I even controlled myself not to shed a single tear at his funeral so that he could rest in peace. Some labeled me cold-blooded, but the most important thing is that I can face my own conscience.
A year after my father’s death, my mother who had been raising us at home wanted me to take over his business empire, which is only logical as I’m the eldest. Plus, she sees me as capable of accomplishing about anything. Yet, although I passed the first general exam, I couldn’t bring myself to continue studying in that business field. I failed the second exam and found myself skipping classes even though my mother dropped me off at the door. I was behaving like a rebellious high school kid that I never was. That’s when things began to go downhill. Even though I did my best to interact with clients and people of that field, I was fighting against my true wants and needs. Rationalizing them all away by labeling them as selfishness just made matters worst. I wanted to kill myself and even fantasized about the precise method. Where else could I go when talking myself out of this responsibility wasn’t going anywhere with my mother?
One fateful day, it happened. I was 24. My mother was driving dad’s blue Ford pickup truck with me sitting beside her. We were almost reaching his office when she did an emergency brake while going about 100 km/h. I barely escaped death with 9 stitches on my forehead. She was unscathed. It was almost the suicide I had imagined, a bloody one. I still remember that warm trickle down the left side of my face, it felt strangely comforting. I like to believe that I had indeed died and returned to the Womb that day. Because, exactly 9 months later, I found myself on the other side of the world, beginning a new life.
So how does filial piety come into this? What I’m about to say may anger many but I’m merely inviting you to look at something without rose-colored glasses. It is deeply entrenched in society that it’s normal and healthy for a man and woman to get married and bear children. In the case of patriarchal Chinese families, the father would fervently wish for a son to carry on the family surname and daughters are generally undesirable as they will be married off to their future husbands. My own mother prayed hard that her third and last child will be a son, and it was answered. Her father made his poor wife bear 6 daughters before finally getting a son but this uncle of mine died as a childless bachelor.
From this single point, having children is self-serving and gender discrimination exists even before the child is born. As a mother myself, I will chime in with my own story. During my pregnancy, most people who saw my bump “predicted” that I’m bearing a son. Although I didn’t have any gender preference, I even believed it myself as I never did an ultrasound as it was an easy pregnancy and I wanted to protect my unborn from any foreign interference. My Peruvian ex-husband wanted a son so all was fine until the birth itself. Imagine the surprise and the disappointment on his part even though he didn’t directly voice it out. In that vulnerable moment, I felt that my baby was me and I deeply felt my own father’s disappointment of me being born the “wrong” gender.
Gender discrimination aside, there is also an in-built expectation that the adult children will take care of their elderly parents. Those who shun this responsibility will usually be criticized as being ungrateful lowlife. My father was a wise man in this regards, he laid out all financial plans in place for old age so that we children would never have to worry about taking care of him and our mother. I wholly agree with him and would never expect my daughter to take care of me either. But the conditional love mindset is not limited to the Chinese culture, it is also prevalent among the lower to middle class Peruvians. Due to me being a divorced parent, I frequently hear relatives and acquaintances tell my toddler to take care of me. How disgustingly twisted that is! I had to always reassure her that I’m the one who should take care of her, and she’s audacious enough to repeat that to those who tell her otherwise. There are many other comments to me that border on encouraging emotional incest with her. The ugly truth is that, countless children are constantly emotionally raped by the very adults they trust the most. Due to the parent’s stunted emotional maturity, they feel that their children owe it to them for bringing them into the world.
Healthy parenting, to me, is giving to and guiding my child without expectation that I’ll receive any benefit from her in the end. The circle will be completed naturally when she grows into a functional and wise adult who contributes in her own way to a select few or society. I fully respect that she’s an individual who has her own life path yet she’s always free to ask me for guidance or tangible assistance. Rather than imposing my will and beliefs on her, I will teach her critical thinking and on how to care for her spiritual, emotional and physical health. I just hope that in the process of it all, I do not damage her irrevocably with the emotional handicaps that I’m constantly doing my best to resolve. The rest of her life story will be up to her to write it as she likes. Instead of teaching her the value of filial piety, I will encourage her to be true to her heart and soul purpose. This is my way of thanking my parents for all that they have ever been to me and given me.
Roots & Wings 