Tag: traditional

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Life of a rebellious daughter

Scenario 1: Voicing your opinion

Immigrant Mother: “If you listen and do as I say, one day you will thank me for all that I am teaching you.”

Daughter: “But mother, I don’t want to learn to do these boring chores. Why are women stuck with household duties?”

Immigrant Mother: “One day, to marry a good husband, you must know.”

Daughter: “What if I don’t want to marry? If I do, I will have an independent husband that knows all these household duties.”

Immigrant Mother: “Daughter, your future husband would appreciate you more.”

Daughter: “Wouldn’t he appreciate me more if I make more money and hire a housekeeper?”

Immigrant Mother: “No, no …you silly daughter! You save money doing it yourself!”

By Jazzmin S. Lu

Moral lesson:

Sometimes we are stuck in a generational gap situation. Voicing your opinion to your immigrant mother is not a winning battle. She was raised by my traditional grandmother in a different era. Feminism doesn’t exist in her world.

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My Mother’s Shadow

She gave me life and tried to raised me, to be the best version of herself as a woman.

Growing up, she tell me stories of her homeland that she missed dearly.

As a child, I couldn’t imagine the sacrifices and loneliness she felt deep within, without someone to soothe her emotional pain.

I wish then that I was old enough to wipe away all her tears of sadness and tell her, ” this will pass, everything in life is temporary.”

She gave unconditional love without seeking rewards in return, but to see me one day become a dutiful and loving daughter to her.

Is that the life of a traditional mother? Born and raised to fulfill the duties and expectations of others with selfless love and without a voice?

I could only be my mother’s shadow, walking beside and sometimes behind her. It seems that we are “one”, but we are actually “two” identities that want to continue the lifelong journey together.

Being my mother’s shadow was a difficult task. Our lives entwined with endless battles of racial discrimination, social and gender bias as a woman and sustaining a peaceful life of the “American Dream”.

All grown up, I could no longer be my mother’s shadow. I must let her go, to live her last phase of life.

By Jazzmin S. Lu

Foreword: If you are fortunate to have a loving immigrant mother that raised you to be your best self, show her that she is appreciated and loved. Words couldn’t express all that she sacrificed and not able to have a “voice”.

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He Said, She Said (Religion)

Scenario #2:

There was once an Asian and Buddhist mother that raised her daughter with morales and preached the idealism of doing good deeds to reap good karma within their lifetime or for future generations.

With her broken English, she had a deep conversation with her Asian American daughter.

Mother: “Daughter, go to temple with me every month to pray to Buddha and all your prayers will be answered.”

Daughter: “I pray for a rich and handsome boyfriend, who will love me and buy me all the things I like!”

Mother: “No, no, why are you, so greedy? Be a good girl and Buddha will give you blessings!”

Moral lesson: Praying gives hope and continuous faith in a religion. Sometimes in a typical traditional family, it sets the foundation for a well-balanced life.

By Jazzmin S. Lu

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Boxed Memories

Growing up Asian American and as a female is always a constant struggle for me.

Raised by traditional parents, whereas brainwashing is the norm.

Expectations of the ideal good and obedient daughter was the usual in my family.

I had to embrace my Chinese and Vietnamese ancestral heritage, while adopting to the American culture.

My life struggles and happiness, I lived to tell them now.

My sad and negative memories, I learned to box them up and label it “BAD.”

My good and positive memories, I also learned to box them up and label it “GOOD.”

I called these, “Boxed Memories” that is now currently in a storage place inside my brain.

Sometimes my heart will conjure up emotions to open these boxes when life situations become a stimulus.

My “Boxed Memories” are mine’s to keep and to unbox.

By Jazzmin S. Lu