The Weight of Tradition
There’s a peculiar weight that comes with being raised in a culture where success is measured in checkboxes. Good grades? Check. Prestigious career? Check. Marriage before 30? Check. It took me years to realize that while I was busy checking boxes, I had forgotten to ask myself what I actually wanted from life.
The Perfect Daughter Syndrome: Growing up in a traditional Asian household meant excellence wasn’t just encouraged — it was expected. Every report card was a referendum on my worth, every achievement a mere stepping stone to the next expectation. I became an expert at being what others wanted me to be: the perfect student, the obedient daughter, the role model for younger siblings.
What no one tells you is how exhausting it is to maintain this facade of perfection. Behind closed doors, I would cry into my pillow, overwhelmed by the pressure to maintain an image that felt increasingly foreign to who I really was.
The Cultural Tightrope: Picture walking on a tightrope. On one side lies the modern world with its promises of independence and self-discovery. On the other, generations of tradition and family expectations. For years, I tried to balance both, terrified of falling.
I went to medical school because it was expected, not because I dreamed of becoming a doctor. I dated within my community because it was safer, not because my heart led me there. Every decision was filtered through the lens of “What will people say?”
My wake-up call came during a family dinner when my aunt casually mentioned that I was “getting too old” for marriage at 26. As everyone nodded in agreement, something inside me snapped. I realized I had spent my entire life living in fear of disappointing others while steadily disappointing myself.
Learning to Listen to My Own Voice
The journey to finding myself began with small acts of rebellion:
- I started therapy (despite the cultural stigma)
- I took art classes on weekends (instead of extra shifts at the hospital)
- I began writing (even though it wasn’t a “proper career”)
- I learned to say “no” to family gatherings when I needed space
Each step was terrifying, but each one made me feel more alive.
The Cost of Authenticity: Being true to yourself often comes with a price tag. Some family members stopped speaking to me when I left medicine to pursue writing. Friends from the community distanced themselves when I chose to live alone instead of with my parents until marriage.
But here’s what I gained:
A sense of purpose that wakes me up every morning
Relationships based on who I am, not who I pretend to be
The ability to look in the mirror and recognize myself
Peace with my choices, even when they don’t fit the cultural script
One of the most liberating realizations was that I didn’t have to choose between my culture and my individuality. I could cherish my heritage while challenging its limitations. I could respect my parents while disagreeing with their vision for my life.
I still celebrate our festivals, cook traditional food, and speak my mother tongue. But I do these things because they bring me joy, not because they’re expected of me.
The Power of Finding Your Tribe: Change became easier when I found others like me — children of immigrants, cultural hybrids, rebels with respect. We created our own support system, sharing stories of our struggles and victories. In their faces, I saw reflections of my own journey.
Redefining Success
Now, success to me looks different:
- It’s the courage to be vulnerable
- The strength to stand alone when necessary
- The wisdom to choose growth over comfort
- The ability to love my culture while not being bound by it
A Letter to Those Still Struggling: If you’re reading this and feeling trapped between cultural expectations and personal desires, know this: your life is yours to live. The path to authenticity isn’t easy, but it’s worth every uncertain step.
You don’t have to reject your culture entirely to be true to yourself. You can create your own beautiful mosaic of values, taking what serves you and gently letting go of what doesn’t.
Moving Forward
These days, when I visit home, I no longer feel like I’m putting on a performance. My parents may not understand all my choices, but they’ve learned to respect them. More importantly, I’ve learned to respect myself.
The journey continues, but now I walk it with confidence, knowing that breaking free from cultural expectations doesn’t mean breaking away from culture itself — it means finding a way to honor both your roots and your wings.
Remember, your story doesn’t have to follow anyone else’s script. The most beautiful chapters are often the ones we write for ourselves, even when — especially when — they break from tradition.