What it is Really Like to be an Asian Child

There isn't always noodles every night.

Growing up, my parents had always been prideful of their homeland. We were always different, by our skin and our knowing of a different culture in the diverse country of America. My traits were deemed optimistic, respectful, intelligent. People teased me saying it was because of my nation, Asia.

My parents cared A LOT about my grades. This isn't necessarily because of our race, it was because they wanted me to grow up and be a successful child. And not for them either, it was just for me to be happy. Not many Asian parents care for grades as much as mine does, but if one fails like a D or an F, the majority will have a punishment in store.

Unlike my white or black friends, I had a very private life. I was never really “grounded” since I could never go anywhere on my own. My first party I ever went to was when I was 11, and that was at the neighbor’s house. My mom made her delicious egg rolls. The other time that I could go somewhere was when I was 12, and my sister and I had to go together.

The food? It wasn't as Asian as you think. My mom cooked up mostly traditional food, but she was a talented cook. We ate pasta, spaghetti, fried chicken, fast food, and snacked on manufactured foods. Noodles weren’t always yellow dipped in broth. There were sometimes traditional soups . Or we had home-created noodles with stir-fried vegetables.

I had learned to bargain, find sales, go online for coupons, and buy clearance, knowing that outlets weren’t bad, out-of-season coats were still good, and even cheap phones were amazing. That isn’t because we are Asian. It is only because we wanted to save money.

But the two words that explain the whole of Asian parenting is: IT DEPENDS. I don’t know any more than the other parents of my half-Asian friend or my Chinese friend who has already adopted the American culture-even though they own a restaurant.