“Asian Fail”

Dear parents of the Asian community,

This weekend, I went home to celebrate Chinese New Year with my family and friends in the Asian community, including you. Ever since I was a little girl, my parents dragged to the annual CPCA (Central PA Chinese Association) New Year Celebration. I guess you could say it was tradition, but to me, it always just seemed like an opportunity for parents, such as yourselves, to brag about your children’s accomplishments, each trying to one-p the next. While there, I found myself discussing the pressures of high school and college with my other first generation Chinese friends, your children. It seemed that we all had the same problem; a problem we have come to know as “Asian failure” or “Asian failure.”

“Asian fail” is a comedic term that describes the degrading feeling first generation Asian children and teens living in America endure while trying to live up to the expectations of strict immigrant parents, specifically, two immigrant Asian parents. The term describes the views their parents have of what actually constitutes as “failure,” which is basically everything. My friends and I all have to live up to your expectations while also trying to adapt to a new culture in America, which always results in conflict between our generations. The disappointment we bring to you has grown to be known as “Asian failure.”

I watched as a group of little girls made their way on the stage in their traditional Chinese dance costumes. I smiled at my friend as we exchanged knowing glances. It seems that all of us took Chinese dance at some point in our lives. One of us, April, was always put in the back because she was taller and older than most of us, not to mention less flexible. Mrs. Yang, I recall many occasions when you would constantly badger her asking “Why aren’t you good enough to be in the front?” It wasn’t a matter of talent, but physicality. Mrs. Yang, did April choose to be tall? Did she choose her genetics? Nonetheless, April being in the back was just another “Asian failure.” The next year, she quit dance. One by one, we all followed as age and inflexibility hindered our dancing abilities. One by one, we had “Asian failed.”

Besides dancing, if that is considered a sport, we Asians have little to no athletic ability whatsoever. Thus, we play instruments, not sports. And you Asian parents take instruments very seriously. Mama, you were always entering me and Ben into countless piano competitions as kids. To pass on the next round, we needed to get a rating of superior or excellent, superior obviously being the more superior rating over an excellent one. Now, I have always been better and guitar and singing (the non-conventional instruments) while my brother was better at being a “stereotypical Asian” who was good at piano. When we received our ribbons, Mom, you scowled at y “excellent ribbon,” turning your attention to your son’s “superior” one. TO you, I had “Asian failed.”

The next performance was an orchestral one. Children, from as you as three to as old as ten, paraded on stage, setting their instruments up, ready to play. I watched the little youngsters look doubtfully at each other, then at their parents watching in the crowd, at you watching, stipulating, and judging with degrading looks on your faces. I smiled sympathetically at them, understanding the fear they must be going through. Having 300 sets of eyes on you, scrutinizing your every move can be terrifying, especially when two of them belong to your Asian parents.

Mrs. Huang, your daughter told us that you were putting a lot of pressure on her to make it to District Orchestra that year. As you know, Patricia had recently switched to viola after years of violin. District Orchestra is a highly prestigious and competitive audition between the top musicians in the district, in which only 15 violist are accepted. The process requires years of disciplined practice in one’s specified instrument. Yet you expected Patricia to make, reasoning “your older sister did it.” Of course, in making said argument, you refused to acknowledge that her sister also played viola for 5 years longer, and only played viola, while Patricia did both. And so, Patricia, who had only taken less than two years of viola lessons, began drilling herself, running scales until the skin on her fingers were calloused and sore, because the pain of being a disappointment was much worse than the physical pain she felt in her fingers.

Another group made their way on stage. The kids in this one were a little older than the previous two. Each child made his or her way to the microphone, reciting a New Year poem in Mandarin. One girl looked around hesitantly, obviously struck by stage fright. She muttered something, closing her eyes tightly, trying to recall the lines here parents had trained her to memorize. I wondered how long she must have studied them. I Know I wouldn’t have been able to do that.

Mr. Hoo, are you aware that your daughter, Juyea, is currently taking 5 AP classes her senior year? She is also tied for 20 other people in her class for valedictorian at her extremely competitive school. IN addition, she tutors middle school students in chemistry, takes night classes at the local community college, and has 15 college credits to her name already. Did I mention she is also one of the youngest in her class? But none of that matters to you because right now, she has a B in AP Chemistry. And that is “Asian failure.” I watch helplessly as you slowly strip away all of her self-confidence and it breaks my heart. She stays up to ungodly hours of the night studying, sometimes not getting any sleep at all, but it’s never enough. Asian failure is not accepting grades based on scaling or effort. Asian failure is not “doing your best and that’s all that matters.” Asian failure is “you can always do better.” Asian failure is “when I was your age…” Asian failure is not actual “failure” at all, because actual failure, like an F on a test, is “Asian disownment, a whole other term by itself.

“Asian failure” has a very negative effect on us, first generation teens. We try hard to live up to expectations of our parents, rather than our own expectations. And as we get older, these expectations seem to rise. There doesn’t seem to be any logic behind the expectations either, just that we must be “The best” not “oust.” It’s absolutely absurd!

Sometimes Asian failure reaches appoint where it just becomes unjustifiably ridiculous. Dad, when I was a freshman I was only taking two honors classes. This was my first offense. “So-and-so took four,” you had complained, rattling off names of my peers in the Asian community. Then report cards came out. I had a relatively good average; a 90% and was in the top 100 of my class of almost 900. You rolled your eyes stating, “so-and-so had a 100% and was in the to 30,” not bothering to take into account that those peoples’ averages were brought up because honors classes were weighted. This was my second offense. For my sophomore year I buckled down on my studies, and though I was still only taking two honors classes, I had pulled my average up to a 96% and my standing up by 60. I thought you would be impressed But this time, Mom scolded that I, “should be taking more honors classes” if I was capable of getting hundreds in my college prep classes, not even considering the fact that I had been working harder to earn those hundreds. So my junior year, I took an honors class and two APs; bad idea. Classes get harder as you progress through high school, and junior year at my school had a reputation of being the worst. My grades plummeted; an extreme “Asian failure” It was then that I realized I didn’t want to bother with it anymore. There was no winning with you, only failure. You would never be satisfied.

Living up to the expectations of Asian parents can be a hassle. We Asian teens used to consider any disappointment we brought to our parents as “Asian failure” rather than true failure, reasoning that if we had American parents, the circumstances wouldn’t be a problem. This lead to the development of a secondary connotation of the phrase.

Parents of the Asian community, your “Asian failure” is failure to show support for your children! It is your inability to see past your own needs. It is your bias and hypocrisy when pushing us to accomplish things you, yourselves, have never even done. “Asian failure” is nothing more than a sad excuse for you to use us as a substitute to live vicariously, trying to make up for the failures you made through your lives. “Asian fail” now refers to our parents’ failure at being, well, parents. At let’s face it, no one likes a failure. On behalf of the teens in the Asian community, Happy Chinese New Year!

Sincerely yours,

Jessica Yeh

#socialcommentary #firstgenerationimmigrants #immigrants #asianfail #stereotypes #racism #satire