Hello everyone! The past week, I’ve been reading Michelle Zauner’s popular memoir, Crying in H-Mart. It’s a story about memories, about grief, about forgiving, and about healing.
There’s just so much to talk about because when reading, I found so many relatable points that were sometimes unfortunate but also comforting to know others go through similar experiences. Since I could probably talk about this book forever, I’m splitting my review into two parts. For this post, I’m not going to be talking about how this memoir explores the typical Asian American experience and one’s parents’ influence on it.
If you’re interested but haven’t read the memoir yet, here’s a link to the inspiration behind the book: https://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/crying-in-h-mart; this link is like the first draft of the first chapter of the memoir, or a sneak peek into what the memoir offers.
To start, Zauner is a singer in the band Japanese Breakfast who grew up with a white dad and a Korean mom. Her music is alternative, experimental, and definitely worth a listen. That same spunky mood is also reflected in Zauner’s teenage temper: a defiant one that rebelled against her Asian mother’s perfectionism. Yet in contrast, she describes her childhood self as someone who always sought to please her parents. The sharp difference between an obedient, people-pleasing child to a rebellious adolescent is a common theme amongst all people since one’s high school years are when one first encounters individuality; but I also interpreted this change as one that came down to a personal struggle between Asian and American values.
In the case of Zauner’s life, she writes about how in her mind, the one thing Asian parents chase most (perfection) clashed against the more Western idealogy of freedom. Zauner details how her mother’s constant need for an immaculate and spotless household impanted some perfectionist chip into her own brain; yet, when she finally moved out during her college years, she was exposed to more than just what her mother spoon-fed her. Sometimes, when people are exposed to both of these opposing values, their character doesn’t change at all, while others change drastically in response. However, Zauner finds a balance between the two when she learns to live on her own, but with the somewhat perfectionist values still ingrained in her.
A question for you all is, do you ever feel the same way? In which you feel like you’re torn between two worlds? And this doesn’t necessarily have to involve Asian versus American either since I just want to hear your stories of intersectionality.
I, for one, can relate to this clashing of values and how I ultimately found stability between all my values from around the world. Despite how comfortable I am with my character now, to some extent, I still code-shift depending on who I’m with in order to adapt to the crowd’s cultural thinking. For example, at school in America, I can be who I want to; but near some family friend from back in Hong Kong, I feel the need to tone down my individuality to fit in better.
Another large parenting theme this memoir discusses is this weirdly Asian value of maturity and independence. One of the very first chapters explains how all Zauner’s white friends had parents who coddled them: a single scratch on the knee resulted in being sent to the hospital, or a bad day would lead to being scooped up into warm arms. Yet Zauner’s treatment was incredibly different; she was yelled at for putting herself in places of danger. I really liked how Zauner interpreted this dynamic as her mother being mad at Zauner for breaking a piece of property instead of Zauner accidentally hurting herself. There was even a lighthearted story of Zauner’s then-boyfriend-now-husband getting food poisoning, and while his mother suggested urgent care as a remedy, Zauner had to stifle a laugh because hospitals and medicine were typically out of the question for something as “trivial” as that. According to Asian methods, the only way to heal yourself is to reflect on your own mistakes and simply force yourself to get better.
I don’t know about other people, but to some degree, I am partly grateful and partly not for my Asian parents raising me to be independent. My parents were never harsh on me in terms of hospitals, medicines, or getting hurt, but independence was always key in academics. My parents never really asked to check my homework but still expected good grades, and I think that trained me to be mature at a young age. While my middle-school teachers loved my never asking questions, it sometimes got to the point where I didn’t want to ask for help because it was shameful. I’ve unlearned a lot of this excessive independence over the years, but I wanted to know what are your thoughts on this method of raising children. Why do you think many Asian people strive for independence? And do you think it’s a good thing?
This might be my longest post yet, but I do have one more point to talk about! It’s that even though this memoir is an homage to Zauner’s passed mother, it doesn’t shy away from the negative impacts of Asian parenting. A side-step away from being taught independence is hiding of emotions. A phrase Zauner repeats a few times while writing is “save your tears for when your mother dies,” an ironic saying she learned growing up but never understood the true meaning until her mother actually did pass away. Her mother refused to coddle her, taught her to never fully showcase her vulnerability, and even traumatized her in certain ways. Zauner never even saw her mother display her emotions until she accidentally witnessed her crying on the floor after Zauner’s grandmother’s passing. While Zauner acknowledges the negative teachings and wishes she could’ve changed many things before her mother’suntimely passing, she still loves her mother and everything she’s done for the family.
Do you have any instances (if you’d like to share) of a complicated relationship? And a slightly off-topic but still related question is: do you think we should always forgive family?
Thank you everyone who read until here! I’m not going to do an elaborate ending since I’m still going to post a part 2 in a few days. Until then, I hope people post their own responses to how parenting affected your life, and if you’ve read this memoir before, give your own review below :)
#1 "A question for you all is, do you ever feel the same way? In which you feel like you’re torn between two worlds? And this doesn’t necessarily have to involve Asian versus American either since I just want to hear your stories of intersectionality."
A question for Asian sons and daughters who grew up Americanized: when your parents reach an age where they struggle to take care of themselves, will you house them? Or will you put them in a nursing home? For older generations who didn't grow up in America, it's unfathomable to put one's parents in a nursing home. It's assumed that the child will fulfill their duty of filial piety and house and care for their aging parents. But for my parents' generation, they said that they would never ask their own children to do that (because it shouldn't even be a question), but they've shared that they also wonder if we will offer without prompting. It's Asian politeness protocol to perform a dueling dance between offering and refusing as a display of not wanting to burden and inconvenience one another (social harmony) versus dismissing such a duty or gesture as "non-sense, it would be my pleasure."
For a while, I imagined a future in which my mom wouldn't live with me. I guess this was my American side. It's sad for me to admit that I still imagined this future even after my mom was widowed. My aunt, her younger and arguably closest sister, was also widowed around two years later. I fantasized about a scenario in which they would live together and thus the "burden" wouldn't fall upon me. But now, after living abroad for six years, I already know that it's my responsibility to take care of my mother, especially after aging deeper into adulthood and realizing that my mother--no matter how old I am--would still sacrifice probably everything for me, with compassion, with patience, with self-sacrificial generosity. I'm blessed to have a mom who loves me that much, and I believe I would be a failure of a son to not, first and foremost, appreciate how rare of a mom I have, and secondly, to not honor and reciprocate everything she has given me. I'm not sure about having kids. I'm not sure about marriage. But I'm sure that I must find a way to take care of my mom.
For a story that explores the responsibility of taking care of one’s parents, check out one of my favorite short stories by Jhumpa Lahiri in her short story collection “Unaccustomed Earth”. The short story is also the same name of the book and the first story in the collection.
#2 - “I wanted to know what are your thoughts on this method of raising children. Why do you think many Asian people strive for independence? And do you think it’s a good thing?”
I’m not sure if I was raised to be independent, but my mom said she was most proud when I graduated, found a job, made my own money, gave some back to support her, and survived living in foreign countries (I’m on my fourth one now). I’ve stopped asking for money, and I try to find opportunities to cover expenses and financial responsibilities where I can.
I’m not sure if striving for independence is Asian thing. I always believed that social harmony and civil obedience was more of an Asian thing, but I do characterize my younger self as someone who wanted to prove I could do many things on my own because 1) it would demonstrate my aptitude and talent, but also 2) asking for help would be an admission and reflection of inadequacy. However, I’ve since shifted my views to believe that asking for help isn’t a display of inadequacy, but instead acute curiosity and resourcefulness coupled with initiative and a drive to improve. The greatest in any field often had teachers. Check out the graduate speech by Arnold Schwarzenegger on “The Myth of the Self-Made Man”: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RJsvR_gSEjg