The self-sacrificing Chinese mother I never wanted to become

Around me, many parents seemed to carry an invisible ledger. Sacrifice was the moral currency of the day, invoked to justify good grades, prestigious careers and lifelong gratitude. Love and guilt often came as a package deal. “Do you know how much I’ve sacrificed for you?” was so ubiquitous that it became a suffocating childhood refrain.

The self-sacrificing mother is by no means unique to China, or even Asia. But I encountered her everywhere in Chinese society in the 1980s and 1990s. Fortunately, my own parents never quite fit this mould. Sure, they made sacrifices – they lived frugally but never balked at the prospect of spending on things I loved. When I was taking the entrance exam for senior high school, they made sure to travel across town by minivan-style cab, so I could rest properly and stay focused on the way to the exam hall. Yet they neither kept score nor reminded me what I owed them.

Still, I grew up wary. I swore not to become like the other parents around me. In my 20s, I was firmly child-free. I loved my independence and was afraid I might become one of those mothers who poured everything into their children and slowly disappeared as individuals.

Like many only children of my generation, I threw myself into work, believing success was the ultimate measure of worth. Then life threw a curveball.

I moved overseas. For the first time, far from the environment that had shaped me, I felt liberated from the constant pressure to prove myself. I became less interested in competing and more interested in living. The pursuit of achievement no longer filled every corner of my being.