Vivek Ramaswamy, a key member of President-elect Trump’s team, Recently ruled The debate surrounding Tiger Parenting, likens it to “tough love” and frames it as a surefire path to success. His comments painted Tiger Parenting as an intentional strategy for raising high-achieving, resilient children, but they overlooked the deeper roots of this parenting style.
Whenever “Tiger Moms” enters the cultural discourse, I chuckle. I remember reading Fighting Hymn of the Tiger Mother As a young mother, and laughing as I imagined telling my late father that these practices are supposed to be reserved for Asian children.
My reaction to that book seemed so much less judgmental than my friends’—I read it as Amy Chua’s sincere desire to raise strong, healthy children. I thought her observations that nothing is fun until you achieve mastery and that parents should not assume vulnerability in healthy children were particularly astute.
My friends seemed to see her as a one-dimensional figure: the demanding mother with her arms folded, demanding endless hours of violin practice. But I read a funny, conflicted mother who really struggles to figure out what her parenting practices should be in the face of a culture that believes otherwise.
Since I didn’t get the memo that these practices are only for Asian women, my father demanded academic excellence. He expected me to write book reports on books I had read for pleasure. If I brought home a grade that was less than 100 percent, my father wanted to know where the other two grades went.
His higher education had been cut short by economic circumstances, and his chronic illness meant we relied on my mother’s work as a guidance counselor for our income. He always praised my mother’s degree and declared his foregone conclusion that I would have a Ph.D. “Imagine…” he would Muse. ‘You can have one statement. And one thesis.” His tone made these sound like treats. (They usually weren’t.)
Even on his sickbed, my father expected me to write a detailed error analysis of my mistakes on tests. I protested in vain that the test was over, I got an A even if two points were “missing”, and I really didn’t want that. He told me that disciplined scholars were confronted with their mistakes, and he was right.
I felt loved by my father, if I was frustrated by him, and I read Chua’s book in the same light. I knew he feared poverty and saw higher education as a buffer against that fate. He also knew he was dying. He was trying to protect – and prepare – me.
Now Vivek Ramaswamy has brought demanding parenting back into the cultural discourse.
As someone who works with parents navigating their own post-traumatic experiences, I would argue that Tiger Parenting is, at its core, a trauma response. It’s not just about your children succeeding; it’s what matters necessary them around. And that distinction is important because it tells us something profound about how trauma shapes our parenting.
What is Tiger Parenting?
Amy Chua described Tiger parenting as a style that requires excellence. Children are forced to master difficult skills, often at the expense of free time or emotional validation. While this approach can promote resilience, discipline and achievement, it can also come with significant emotional costs – for both children and parent.
But why would a parent take such a rigid, high-pressure approach in the first place? Let’s explore how trauma affects parenting styles.
Trauma and the fear of failure
Trauma leaves an indelible mark on the way we view the world. For parents with unhealed trauma, especially trauma related to scarcity, poverty, or persecution, the stakes of “failure” can feel unbearably high. If you’ve experienced a world where not the best was to lose opportunities – or worse, safety – it makes perfect sense that you would do everything in your power to prevent your child from ever facing that reality.
Tiger parenting often comes from a place of deep fear:
- Fear that your child will not succeed in a hyper-competitive world.
- Fear that their failures will reflect your shortcomings as a parent.
- Fear that their future safety depends on perfection.
These fears are trauma talk. And when you’re parenting a trauma response, your instincts are about protection — not connection.
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For many post-traumatic tiger parents, these results are more than milestones—they are success statistics. This clarity is part of what makes Tiger Parenting so appealing. Parents who struggle with trauma often lack discernment about what to do. When you’ve weathered a chaotic or uncertain past, it’s comforting to have a clear rubric for success:
- Your child does the honors? You passed.
- They speak three languages or excel in music? You nail it.
- Will she win the Perfect Awtance Award? Prove that you are doing something right.
Contrast this with goals such as raising children with a deep capacity for connection and joy, or instilling the fortitude to meet life’s challenges. These are more difficult to quantify. How do you know if your 8-year-old is on track for connection and joy? There is no award for ‘best emotional well-being’. This lack of objectivity can leave post-traumatic parents feeling lost, especially when they need a rubric.
Trauma reshapes the way we see the world. For traumatized parents, failure feels catastrophic – not just for themselves but for their children.
Tiger parenting can be understood as a survival strategy. It’s not just about making sure your child thrives; It’s about protecting them from failures that feel synonymous with danger. For parents who have experienced scarcity, poverty, or cultural displacement, the world can feel like a high-stakes game where only the exceptional survive. It’s about valuing ‘protection’ over ‘connection’ because protection seems like an emergency.
In these cases, Tiger Parenting becomes a way to control what feels out of control. It’s a system that provides structure and metrics and certainty in a world that feels unpredictable.
The emotional costs of tiger parenting
Although Tiger Parenting often comes from a place of love, it can unintentionally harm the children it tries to protect. Why? Because children internalize more than just our expectations – they absorb our fear, anxiety, and unmet needs.
In Tiger Parenting families, children can learn that:
- Their value is tied to their performance.
- Failure is catastrophic, no opportunity to grow.
- Emotional needs are secondary to performance.
This can lead to a host of problems, from perfectionism and anxiety to the feeling that parental love is conditional. Children raised by Tiger parents sometimes struggle to distinguish their own desires from their parents’ expectations, causing them to become disconnected from their true selves.
Why Tiger Parenting Makes Sense for Post-Traumatic Parents
Let’s emphasize something important here: Tiger parenting makes sense. If you’ve experienced trauma, especially trauma tied to socioeconomic or cultural survival, the hyper-focus on performance feels logical. You operate from a survival mindset – a deeply held belief that only the best will survive.
But what makes sense is not always what is healthy. And the work of post-traumatic parenting is learning to separate what served you in your trauma from what your child needs to thrive.
Conclusion: a call for compassion
Tiger parenting is not born out of malice – it is an expression of love filtered through the lens of trauma. It’s a way for parents to manage their fears and provide their children with opportunities they may never have had. But the truth is, no amount of achievement can erase the need for connection, joy, and emotional security.
For parents navigating the tension between external success and internal well-being, the question is not, “Am I doing enough?” But, “Am I giving my child the tools to thrive – emotionally, socially and spiritually?” Yes, protection is important. But that also applies to connection.
And in many ways, connection is protection.
