‘Battle Hymn Of The Tiger Mother’: You Hated The Excerpt, Now Read The Book

January 14th, 2011 | 40 comments | Posted by Jen

Three years ago, when Diana and I were kicking around book ideas, there was one that rose to the top for us, one we thought was pure gold. Its working title was: “How to Raise a Child Prodigy.” Although neither of us were prodigies–a fact that filled us both with regret–and neither of us were parents yet, we felt qualified to write the book anyway, because we were products of Hardass Asian Parenting, which was no different, in our minds, from Prodigy Parenting (see: the long, ever-expanding list of Asian prodigies). Plus, we imagined the book as a way to talk about what it’s like to be Asian American without getting heavy, a way to laugh at ourselves, something honest but still tongue-in-cheek. Of course there would be some non-Asians, aspirational parents in particular, who would buy the book for parenting tips and take it seriously…suckas!

Only we never wrote it. We started it as a blog, set to private, but didn’t get beyond a couple of entries. In hindsight, our lack of follow-through shines a light on two rather important details: 1) why we weren’t prodigies in the first place and 2) why we weren’t qualified at all to write the book. During that time, we did manage to bang out a long list of child-rearing ideas, ideas we’d been exposed to personally that we planned to explore in our little parenting guide. A selection of those ideas appears below, from a document dated March 2008:

  • Don’t talk to your children. Lecture.
  • Liberally use words like “unacceptable,” “disappointed,” and “failure” while lecturing.
  • Love means never having to say you’re sorry. Especially to your own flesh and blood.
  • While their schoolmates are signing up for soccer and cheerleading, enroll your children in piano, violin, cello, ballet, tennis, golf, math lessons, and Chinese school on the weekends. While they practice and/or study, complain about how poorly they’re doing and sigh loudly that their training is a waste of money.
  • Instead of saying “Good job,” try “Do better” or “Next time, be perfect.”
  • “You got an A on your math test? Why not an A plus?”
  • Complain that their valedictory speech is “clunky and rambling.”
  • Remind them that being the best is the same as being happy.
  • Play your children against each other. Disown one and tell the other(s), “You’re now my only hope.”
  • Don’t just threaten disownment.
  • Compare your children unfavorably to your Hardass Asian Friends’ children, who are always more successful.
  • Know that you’re always right. Even when you’re wrong. Oh wait, you’re never wrong.
  • Insist that your children become brain surgeons, astronauts, Supreme Court justices, Olympians, Nobel Laureates or Saints.
  • If your children don’t become brain surgeons, astronauts, Supreme Court justices, Olympians, Nobel Laureates or Saints, tell them that this is unacceptable, disappointing, and a total failure. If your child is indeed canonized as a Saint, admit that you hoped it would happen much sooner.
  • Try not to let your children’s constant ingratitude, selfishness, and laziness get you down.

Sound familiar? It will to those of you who have been following the fallout from the publication of Amy Chua’s memoir, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, and the book’s excerpt, which appeared in the Wall Street Journal a few days before the book’s debut. In the excerpt, which was called “Why Chinese Mothers are Superior,” Chua outlined her own strict rules of parenting, revealing a list of things her two daughters–who are, in fact, musical prodigies–were never allowed to do:

  • attend a sleepover
  • have a playdate
  • be in a school play
  • complain about not being in a school play
  • watch TV or play computer games
  • choose their own extracurricular activities
  • get any grade less than an A
  • not be the No. 1 student in every subject except gym and drama
  • play any instrument other than the piano or violin
  • not play the piano or violin

So, yes, basically Amy Chua wrote the book we didn’t. Which means, FUCK, my own Tiger Mother was right: my laziness was going to be my “downfall” one day.

Well, not exactly–at least, not the first part anyway (my laziness, however, is an ongoing issue). If you’ve actually read Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, as I have, you know by now the book isn’t a parenting guide or a how-to, as the WSJ excerpt would have you believe. The excerpt is misleading in a number of ways; it isn’t even an excerpt in the conventional sense, one passage taken from one part of the book, but rather a number of passages taken from different parts of the book cobbled together to appear coherent, to give the impression that Chua’s book is some kind of how-to. If anything, the book is a how-not-to–Chua ends up retreating from her parenting style because it threatens to destroy her relationship with her younger daughter, Lulu–and I imagine more than a few of its readers will come away from it feeling that their own parenting approach is, in fact, “the right one,” if they are parents, or they will come away feeling that their own parents’ parenting approach was “not so bad,” if they do not have children themselves.

The cut-and-paste job that became the book’s widely-hated excerpt also makes Chua seem more smug and unlikeable than she appears in the full work. Our friend Jeff Yang interviewed Chua for his SF Chronicle column, in which she revealed she had no hand in putting together the excerpt–for which she’s received hate mail and death threats–nor did she see it before it went to press. She didn’t make up the incendiary title either. Then again, this mislead goes a long way toward explaining why Chua’s book sits at #4 on Amazon’s Top 100 books list and #1 in all subcategories at the time of this writing. So I’m not exactly feeling sorry for her. (Except…death threats? Really, people? Have you learned nothing from Tucson?)

Not that the book is without its blind spots or that Chua doesn’t have moments where she ought to be subjecting herself to some serious self-examination but, instead, stubbornly bullies through.

Take, for example, what she writes about her older daughter Sophia, who’s positioned in the book as the obedient one, as opposed to younger Lulu, who is the rebel:

I love being able to count on Sophia. She has wells of inner strength. Even more than me, she can take anything: exclusion, excoriation, humiliation, loneliness.

And get a load of this guilt trip, thinly-disguised as selflessness:

…everything I do is unequivocally 100% for my daughters. My main evidence is that so much of what I do with Sophia and Lulu is miserable, exhausting, and not remotely fun for me. It’s not easy to make your kids work when they don’t want to, to put in grueling hours when your own youth is slipping away, to convince your kids they can do something when they (and maybe even you) are fearful that they can’t. “Do you know how many years you’ve taken off my life?” I’m constantly asking my girls.

(My mom’s line was always that old standby, “You’ll be sorry when I’m dead.” Though sometimes she’d just clutch the left side of her chest and moan, “My heart, my heart.”)

And then there are times when Chua overreaches entirely, acting the expert in areas where she is clearly not, using flimsy anecdotal evidence, if any at all, to justify what she’s doing:

There are all kinds of psychological disorders in the West that don’t exist in Asia.

But here’s one thing I’m sure of: Western children are definitely no happier than Chinese ones.

The fact is that Chinese parents can do things that would seem unimaginable—even legally actionable—to Westerners. Chinese mothers can say to their daughters, “Hey fatty—lose some weight.” By contrast, Western parents have to tiptoe around the issue, talking in terms of “health” and never ever mentioning the f-word, and their kids still end up in therapy for eating disorders and negative self-image. (I also once heard a Western father toast his adult daughter by calling her “beautiful and incredibly competent.” She later told me that made her feel like garbage.)

I mean, okay, Dr. Chua, self-proclaimed self-esteem guru. I guess while you were busy berating your daughters and forcing them to play piano and violin, you didn’t have time to read this research study about how Asian American women are more likely to attempt suicide than the rest of the general population or come across these Department of Health and Human Services statistics identifying Asian American women ages 15-24 as having the highest suicide rate of any race or ethnic group in that age group and how being pushed to achieve most likely plays an important role in this.  But by all means, keep exhorting those little pieces of garbage to play on!

Red flags notwithstanding, I encourage those of you who found yourselves hating Chua after reading the WSJ excerpt–as I did–to read the book itself. I say this because I think it might make you feel better. I believe there are a number of you experiencing PTSD–as Lac Su, author of the memoir I Love Yous Are for White People, described feeling–after reading that excerpt. It didn’t just hit close to home, it hit home like a heat-seeking missile. It brought up a lot of bitterness. Shit was too real. It was a reminder of why so many of us will spend the rest of our lives talking almost exclusively about our mothers in therapy.  Yet, after reading the book, and realizing that Amy Chua is less of a monster and more of a deeply flawed human being who just isn’t all that introspective–which is sort of how we strive to see our parents when we have complicated relationships with them, no?–I felt a genuine sense of relief. It took a lot of energy hating her, in the same way it takes a lot of energy hating your own mother, more energy than forgiving her does, in most cases.

If I have one bone to pick with Chua–and it’s not an insignificant one–it would be why. Why did she feel the need to strictly adhere to this so-called “Chinese parenting model” in the first place?

Because I get why my parents raised me that way (to a lesser extreme, I might add). My parents pushed me to be “the best”–and, uh, I’m not saying it worked, like, at all–but they pushed me because they knew, from their own experience, that being good, really good, and smart, better-educated than most, and working-harder-than-almost-everybody was very often…not good enough. Because being good and smart and better educated and a hard worker didn’t mean that you wouldn’t still be poor, treated like a fool, underemployed, shit on, chased off the road by rich white kids in cars while riding your bike, and forced to sell vacuum cleaners door-to-door because you had to put day-old bread on the table for you and your kids, even while you held a Ph.D. in Physics. I get now why they raged against our mistakes and poor preparation; mistakes were what made your brother miss the last boat out and left him to fend for himself in a war-torn country at age 14, poor preparation landed your grandmother in a labor camp. After many years, I even understand the rules and punishments that my parents imposed on us as children that seemed so inscrutable then, why my father wouldn’t let us watch comedies, or why he wouldn’t speak to us sometimes for days when we rented a movie that, for one mysterious reason or another, offended him. Because for years, there was, quite simply, nothing to laugh about.

But Chua, by her own account, isn’t parenting under the same pressure. Although she also calls Chinese parenting “immigrant parenting,” she isn’t an immigrant. (Her parents were, immigrating to the U.S. in 1960.) Her childhood resembles mine and that of many second-generation kids–a mix of an Asian upbringing–speaking the family’s native tongue at home, drilling math and piano, report cards with nothing but A’s–and American influences: Girl Scouts, roller skating, and Dairy Queen.

By the time she becomes a parent, Chua’s done very well for herself, as children parented “the Chinese way” often do, at least on paper. She has an undergraduate and law degree from Harvard, she’s on her way to getting a law professorship, her husband, whom she met at Harvard Law, is already a professor at Yale Law, and they have enough money to hire a Chinese nanny to teach Mandarin to the children. Eventually, Chua also gets a teaching job at Yale Law–where she and her husband both still teach and are tenured–and publishes two non-fiction books. By her own admission, Chua and her family have a comfortable life.

I’m not saying that people like Chua, who are successful, upper middle-class, and lead comfortable lives should be soft on their children, but I do think there’s less urgency and imperative to raise them the way Chua has chosen to raise her daughters. And without urgency and imperative, the Chinese parenting method–which Chua describes accurately as intolerant to failure–makes much less sense. At times it even seems cruelly unnecessary. When there isn’t a safety net, it’s easy for a child to grasp that one misstep has grave consequences. When there is a safety net, but someone’s insisting that even with one, a misstep has the same grave consequences, it’s confusing and breaks down trust. The reason Diana and I can have a sense of humor about our Hardass Asian Parents and could come up with a book idea like the one we did, where we’re actually poking fun at our strict upbringings, has a lot to do with our ability to comprehend why our parents brought us up the way that they did, why they felt like they had to.

Will Sophia and Lulu be able to do the same?  In a moment of doubt, Chua asks herself that question:

I don’t know how my daughters will look back on all this twenty years from now. Will they tell their own children, ‘My mother was a controlling fanatic who even in India made us practice before we could see Bombay and New Delhi’? Or will they have softer memories?

In other words, will Chua’s daughters understand why they had to practice their musical instruments for hours at a time, even on vacation, sometimes spoiling vacation, why they couldn’t ever make plans with friends because their free time was booked a year in advance, why their mother excoriated and humiliated instead of extolled and praised? Will they understand that was the only way for their Tiger Mother? Will they believe that she had to?

Perhaps they will. One day. Stranger things have happened, especially with a shit-ton of therapy. But even after reading Amy Chua’s memoir in its entirety, I still can’t say that I do.

[WSJ: Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior]
[SFGate: Mother, superior?]


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40 Responses to “‘Battle Hymn Of The Tiger Mother’: You Hated The Excerpt, Now Read The Book”

  1. Cindy says:

    I like the fuller pespective on Chua’s book and would like to read it, but there is still a lot of evidence she has a lot of maturing in her own perspective and understanding of parenting.

    I think it takes greater strength and greater intelligence to resist the narrow upbringing model. Blazing a new trail takes daring. Going to law school doesn’t.

    Let me see? This hugely successful blog, Huffington Post, Original Spin, etc., etc.

    Looks likes a success, smells like a success…

  2. [...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by DISGRASIAN™, Teresa Wu , Steph Wu and others. Steph Wu said: Best Amy Chua/Tiger Mother response I've read so far. Go, @disgrasian! http://bit.ly/fk1rQD [...]

  3. johnminh says:

    Wow, this was a very powerful read and an awesome explanation of why our parents were hard on us as kids. I’m utterly at a loss for words (in a good way) after reading this …

  4. Fredric Delmais says:

    You did write a book- this piece was long. In this competitive world what children learn & how they learn are important subjects. My parents, not Asian, with five kids were strict but not obsessively so. A classmate, also not Asian, was not allowed to watch TV. My neighbors a Jewish family, which also have a reputation of requiring good grades, had two kids. The daughter four years older than i & in high school hung herself in her basement after her parents complained about some of her grades.

  5. msmargie says:

    I’ve been so looking forward to reading your thoughts on this book and author. Thank you for another great post.

  6. Liu Jing says:

    No say on the title? A footnote or a best seller.. right, let’s go with that edition

  7. jedifreac says:

    And Hardass Asian Mom’s response to this post is probably: Why you waste time write this?


  8. Jen says:

    @jedifreac My HAM reads this blog, so we’ll see!

  9. Yumyumcha says:

    Please give thanks to your parents. I’m the kid that isn’t allowed to come over your house cuz I’m peeking your homework. Good read and review, saved me some money and time!

  10. Yale prof takes heat over strict parenting…

    A new memoir of bad-ass parenting, Chinese style, from a self-proclaimed tiger mother has unleashed a ferocious roar.Fallout was swift for Yale law professor Amy Chua after she published a stark essay in The Wall Street Journal exposing harsh words and…

  11. TW says:

    Re: “If I have one bone to pick with Chua–and it’s not an insignificant one–it would be why. Why did she feel the need to strictly adhere to this so-called “Chinese parenting model” in the first place?”

    I don’t understand your reasoning why it’s somewhat acceptable for immigrant parents to apply that kind of pressure on their children whereas it isn’t acceptable, if I interpreted your implication right, for first or second generation parents to do the same.

    My parents are third generation and they STILL used that type of parenting with us. I still have a scar on my upper arm and another on forehead to prove it. I know I’m not the only one.

    The two major origins of the so called Chinese/Asian Parenting Style are the competitiveness among the Asian community and, as you say, the burden of representation in the mainstream society. It isn’t the urgency. It’s the damn face.

    Also? Do non-Asian children really know why they had to live with their parents’ rules, rituals and lifestyle choices? Most don’t. They simply accepted, compromised or rejected. Why should we be any different?

  12. Jen says:

    @TW I didn’t say it was acceptable for immigrant parents to parent a la Chua, I said it was easier to comprehend why from the child’s perspective. At least for me. Personally. With a shit-ton of therapy. And my “reasoning” as you call it is really just the conclusions I’ve arrived at in my own experience, for my own life. So I can’t speak to whether people in general–Asian or not–need to know why they had to live with their parents’ rules and punishments, but speaking for myself, I did. To forgive things that had transpired, to move forward with my life, and to actually have a good relationship with my parents.

    As for urgency vs. face, I think they’re intertwined. Without the urgency, without “we have nothing but face” being something of a reality, I think face loses some value. The stakes are not as high. Again, speaking personally. Seeing how my parents mellowed after the came back from the brink, and thinking how I–as someone who’s second-generation–want to parent.

  13. [...] Click Here [WSJ Law Blog] Is Extreme Parenting Effective? [Room for Debate / New York Times] ‘Battle Hymn Of The Tiger Mother’: You Hated The Excerpt, Now Read The Book [Disgasian] Are Chinese mothers superior? [The Daily Caller] Tiger Mom a Pussycat? [Adoption Talk] [...]

  14. [...] excerpt, I have to admit that I worry sometimes that I am not stricter.    In an excellent Disgrasian post on Amy Chua’s book, Jen suggests that these days, there is no need to go so hard, but I don’t see things getting [...]

  15. turkfontaine says:

    I’m a parent. My son is now 25. I could never have made words such as those come out of my mouth. Every instinct I have tells me it’s wrong. Life experience has enough body blows waiting. I did what my heart told me to do and my son grew up to be a man of skill, empathy, integrity, joy and wisdom, with vision and dreams and goals and plans to reach them.

    Only recently did I encounter the best parenting advice I have ever heard. It came from what you might think an unlikely source, the director, John Waters. He was discussing his childhood. He said: “The greatest service you can render in life as a parent is to let your children feel safe being who they are.”

  16. [...] Click Here [WSJ Law Blog] Is Extreme Parenting Effective? [Room for Debate / New York Times] ‘Battle Hymn Of The Tiger Mother’: You Hated The Excerpt, Now Read The Book [Disgasian] Are Chinese mothers superior? [The Daily Caller] Tiger Mom a Pussycat? [Adoption Talk] [...]

  17. lchen says:

    My parents can’t read/write/speak any english, around 3rd grade I was promoted out of ESL and into regular reading groups and I began translating mail and phone calls for my parents. By 5th grade if I said I didn’t understand a letter they would say, “In China, 5th graders could read anything in Chinese.” It didn’t hit me till I was in my 20s that it was probably too much to ask of a grade schooler. The unease of an unspoken fear and alienation plagued me into adulthood. It took a load of my shoulders to forgive them (in my mind) as flawed people and my relationship with them was better for it. My mother had a more abusive relationship with her mother who denied her an education and always made her feel ugly. Which explained why my mother pushed me academically and was always overly concerned/critical of my appearance. The awful parenting cycle has to end.

  18. Kwan says:

    Great post. I am so amazed by the superficial quality of the excerpt that I almost think she’s writing it all tongue in cheek.

    So my hardass parents wished they were actually hardass parents. Given all the normal Asian parent behavior, but then falling short of the follow through really made me lose respect for my folks over the years. Now that I am married and considering raising kids, Im half joking with my husband about being that, actual, hardass Asian parent, which my folks weren’t quite. (I mean, I ended up gay, majored in art and nat. sci., and now working in agriculture so on the Asian parents scale my parents really screwed up!) So to make up for my parents, I don’t mind: impressing the kiddos into farm labor; forcing them to play team sports; join 4-H; be a -Scout; and gosh-darn-it be that terrified kid strapped to a panicked sheep at the junior rodeo! Sure, the rubric for good asian parenting is to crank out successful children, but let me improve on that – its competent children who are physically capable of doing things. They are also mentally, well rounded to be confident, ambitious, and creative.

    I mean, my kids are gonna be raised by two Dads in rural somewhere. They better be able to KickAss and be BadAss; and that’s only going to happen if I throttle them to do it. Surely they’ll flee to their multiplication tables and violin score sheets in the cool reprieve of the farm house and end up becoming wildly affluent accountants, engineers, and Republicans. Well, at least their grandparents would be happy.

  19. TW says:

    Thank you for these clarifications. I’ll have to talk to my parents some day about why they preferred the “do or die” method. I’m the quiet type and we don’t talk much. Sometimes I think they forget I exist! I’ll try anyway. I think it’s important to try because my eldest sister found it so abrasive that she isn’t on speaking terms with them. Anyway, thank you.

  20. [...] Prof. Amy Chua’s book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, according to Disgrasian was largely misrepresented in The Wall Stre… due to epic copying-and-pasting (oh, Rupert Murdoch). In actuality, her book is about how she [...]

  21. [...] Disgrasian: “You Hated The Excerpt, Now Read the Book“ [...]

  22. [...] and (this is key, I think) Asian writers have already written beautifully, heartbreakingly and hilariously on the [...]

  23. HapaMama says:

    One thing the book does do is shed light on the huge divide between the way Asian immigrant kids were raised and the way educated American-born people are expected to raise their kids. As a second generation Taiwanese American, I can very much relate to the way Chua’s parents raised her. As a parent of young children, I daily face decisions that pit my experience against the the philosophies espoused by most modern American parenting “experts”. It seems Chua has chosen the devil she knows over the devil she doesn’t know… and doesn’t look back. I write about this at Salon: http://www.salon.com/life/feature/2011/01/14/asian_american_perspective_on_tiger_mom_open2011

    I totally agree that the Hardass Asian Parenting method is largely born out of hardscrabble necessity. Chua comes really close to realizing this when she notices all the other parents at the music audition are either recent immigrants or foreigners. Then, instead of an epiphany, she just vows to work her daughters harder. (?!?)

  24. Jen says:

    @HapaMama Great piece, Grace!

  25. [...] “those people” are are hurt, a point Disgrasian’s Jen Wang raised late last week, while recommending the book: I mean, okay, Dr. Chua, self-proclaimed self-esteem guru. I guess while you were busy berating your [...]

  26. benblex says:

    gonna beat a dead horse prolly – but i guess her “broad” definition of “chinese parenting” also includes a suburban, elite asian american woman with a white “ethnic” (jewish) husband.

  27. yellow_roots says:

    An important and nice piece that y’all wrote. Keep up the good work.

  28. lu.xun says:

    “Why did she feel the need to strictly adhere to this so-called “Chinese parenting model” in the first place?”

    I think you sort of hit on why when you suggest, at the beginning of the article, that Hardass Asian Parenting is no different from Prodigy Parenting. The things Chua is advocating aren’t specific to Chinese or East Asian culture; they’re part of an authoritarian parenting style that is already quite familiar to certain upper-middle-class American families, one designed to give children an edge in a hyper-competitive environment.

  29. fidmp says:

    Amy Chua is simply selling books. She could have given her book a 100 different titles but she picked one that is controversial and provoking (and not just thoughts). A regular title would have put Amy Chua on the worstseller list. But she did something smart with her title. That did not depend on a regimental upbringing or her math or her science scores but her reasoning. I’m an Asian myself who sees the obsession with scores and grades among asians with derogation. If you are a western parent having doubts about your parenting style read below.

    What style of parenting has brought and sustained a lasting and thriving democracy. A open society where individual liberties are so cherished and defended even if they are individual liberties of a non-citizen or a criminal. A country with people thronging at its gates wanting to become a part of a great nation.

    What style of parenting has yielded a society of over 1 billion people, that is living without the power to choose its leaders..under a regime that cannot be questioned.. that massacred its own students in tianenmen square.. A country whose best minds, with the best science and math scores possible on the planet, wanting to leave their nation, their society , for a chance to become a part of a greater nation.

    Do u really want to change parenting styles ?

    The result of parenting is not just the individual, but rather a society, a community, a nation

  30. [...] first learned about the term Tiger Mom from a friend on twitter, who then linked me to this article, which then brought me to the controversial source: Amy Chua’s Battle Hymn of the Tiger [...]

  31. [...] have read several bloggers’ “single stories,” and now I would like to share [...]

  32. [...] as I was beginning to feel quite guilty about what I wrote earlier on, I happened upon this utterly splendid review of Chua’s book by someone named Jen, writing for a blog called Disgrasian. I very quickly [...]

  33. [...] Journal comic strip. And for especially adroit critiques of Chua’s basic tenets, take a look at Disgrasian’s commentary, where author Jen Wang points out that high suicide rates for Asian women between the ages of 15-24 [...]

  34. [...] following the hoopla of this book?  If you haven’t there’s a great reflection on it here.  It came to me after a few drafts of just writing that I was writing a response to what had been [...]

  35. BMo2xl says:

    I understand the mixed emotions this book has created in many Asian Americans but, as a Black man, I really wish that the African-American community would adopt some of these Tiger Mother techniques to child rearing. We’d be a lot better of off.

    I don’t go nearly as far as Amy Chua but I have made my children do math exercises from the Kumon workbooks since they were in Kindergarten and they are two years ahead of their classmates. When they complain that they don’t like to do the math work after finishing their homework I respond, “I don’t care what you don’t like…if you spent less time complaining about the work and did it you would be finished by now!”. Maybe I’m a Tiger Mother, too.

  36. [...] Amy Chua’s Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother is apparently not as abhorrent as the WSJ would have us believe! While this is a huge downer if you’re looking at it from a [...]

  37. de-lux says:

    “you’ll be sorry when I’m dead!!” That was my mom’s line too! Ah, the memories!

    Your list is sooooo much better….write the book! Now is the time! Get off your lazy, worthless, unacceptable ass and write it!

    And I really appreciate your understanding of where your parents hard-assness was coming from. Shows real maturity. It’s the fear of sub-human poverty and hardship that drives them to those crazy extremes. Poverty is the real enemy here and we should all be working to eliminate it.

  38. Jen says:

    @de-lux “Get off your lazy, worthless, unacceptable ass and write it!”


  39. [...] = 'none'; document.getElementById('singlemouse').style.display = ''; } ‘Battle Hymn Of The Tiger Mother’: You Hated The Excerpt, Now Read The Book var topsy_style = 'big'; var topsy_nick = ''; var topsy_order = 'count,badge,retweet'; var [...]

  40. [...] “anti-intellectual” streak in the Asian American community. She called out blogger Jen Wang of Disgrasian among others for what she saw as half-apologetic stances on Chua’s [...]

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Intern Jasmine’s Links Of The Daysian: The Ass Pants & Butt-Rubbing Edition

November 30th, 2012 | 1 comment | Posted by jasmine

We here at DISGRASIAN™ are going to use our buying power to buy as many Samsung butt-rubbed phones as we can.


Things I Thought I’d Never See: A Dude Rapping In Korean At The American Music Awards

November 19th, 2012 | 3 comments | Posted by Jen

Gangnam Time? Hammer Style?


RIP Twinkies, RIP Name Asians Like To Call Other Asians Who Are Less Asian Than They Are

November 16th, 2012 | 5 comments | Posted by Jen

How are we going to insult one another now?!