The South Asian Family Trap
Our family lives are filled with joyous, sad, absurd, and sometimes heartbreaking moments. We often cover up our dysfunctionality under our customs and culture. But if we don’t mend our ways, the legacy of silences in South Asian households will just go on.
A demanding day at work or at home often ends with me rewatching another episode of Modern Family. Sometimes the family dynamics in the show make me wonder, “Could this ever happen in my family?” A question, I am sure, many of my South Asian peers have wondered while dealing with the family drama of their own.
Many mainstream movies and shows have tried to depict the eccentricities of South Asian families. However, very few can move past the over-the-top drama to convey the internal conflicts that haunt us all our lives.
Lately, I have been a part of many conversations about toxicity at the workplace. Experts state that management of an organisation defines the way employees align themselves to it. The decision-making and communication styles have a ripple effect. A positive and inclusive workplace environment makes the employees feel valued. However, a rigid hierarchical space can severely affect employee morale.
It’s funny then that people can identify these red flags at work and see how it affects them. But, the same issues go unnoticed within their families.
The flawed equation
In South Asian culture, parents are often equated to gods. It propagates the belief that parents know the best and can do no wrong. This creates the unspoken rule of never questioning their word. These ideas are so deeply ingrained in us since childhood that any attempt to scrutinize or challenge them feels like we are disrupting the natural order. We must follow the norm of respecting our elders. But children (even when they have grown into adults) are not privy to the same treatment.
Children ought to be grateful to their parents for their lives. And I agree that parents do make great sacrifices for their children — often at the cost of their own well-being. But a bitter and cynical part within me wonders — the child didn’t ask you to birth them; it was your choice. Still, I will never forego my gratitude. But my issues arise when a child’s gratitude is measured by how closely they adhere to parental expectations.
Parents make elaborate plans to give their children the best lives. As a result, the children often become vessels that carry the unfulfilled desires of the child within them. Any South Asian child’s eyes, especially the eldest or single child, will show the fear of disappointing their parents. These emotions have moulded our existence. We grow up believing that any deviation from this plan can result in a lifetime of heartbreak. There is no room to make a mistake. So, how do you survive that?
It often boils down to two situations: sacrifice your aspirations and dreams or crucify your parents at the altar of your selfish needs. However dramatic this may sound, ask a teenager in a middle-class home, and they would vehemently agree with the sentiment.
The burden of parenthood
While children carry the pressure of expectations, the parents have their own pressures to deal with. New parents are subtly told that their existence revolves around their children. So, in the pursuit of providing the best, these parents build their entire world around them. Parents are expected to flawlessly navigate the intricacies of parenthood. They cannot afford any mistakes either. Anything their child does becomes a mirror reflecting their parenting skills. This pressure creates an intense home environment that causes misery to everyone involved. Parents struggle with the god complex imposed on them by society. Children fear that any misstep will reflect not just on them but on the very essence of their parents’ worth.
But what happens when children are all grown up? Look into the eyes of these ageing parents and you’ll see them standing at a crossroad. Their earlier well-defined role as caregivers becomes unclear. It’s like a void that emerges when the children no longer need the same level of care and attention.
There is little to no space for these relationships to evolve or bloom into friendships.
Navigating expectations as young men and women
The patriarchal setup of the household subtly intertwines love with a sense of control. We often have no autonomy over our education, career paths, and even marriage. But authority manifests differently based on the sexes. Irrespectively, it allows silence and secrecy to take over these relationships.
Most Indian men I have met either believe that the world revolves around them or struggle with the expectation of being the sole provider for the family. Thankfully, the men in my circle rarely belong to the first category. These men pretend to abide by their parents’ expectations in public, but exercise their freedoms amongst friends.
They are religious in their households but are atheists at heart. They hide their habit of eating non-vegetarian food, drinking alcohol, or smoking. They travel with friends discreetly and fear to disclose their romantic relationships. They would rather stay in a traditional job than pursue a career of their choice because they must support their families.
On the other hand, most women in my life grew up in traditional confinements. In a bid to protect us from harm, our families ended up curbing any avenues of freedom. And a lack of safety in public spaces, didn’t allow us much room to exercise our freedoms. Some of us ended up living dual lives in an act of rebellion during our teenage phase.
Yet, a difference is visible in this duality that millennial men and women in my life portray. Growing up with a bit more latitude and freedom has allowed these men to master the art of sidestepping confrontations. This ability to navigate familial expectations has become somewhat ingrained. And as they transition into adulthood, it is less challenging to maintain the delicate balancing act.
Conversely, among my female friends, I see an undeniable shift after years of enduring societal norms and expectations. As financially independent adults, they refuse to be confined. They would rather live more authentically — even if that means engaging in conflicts with their parents every day.
Deflecting conflicts
I have observed a pattern in families in my circle and even my own. Our generations have been passing down the art of not really talking about the tough stuff. This is not just a lack of communication; it’s a belief that emotions are better left unspoken.
We grow up believing that disagreements are explosives that can wreck relationships. So, instead of addressing things head-on, we become masters at the silent treatment. Passive-aggressive behaviour is our coping mechanism.
But this expertise doesn’t leave much room for vulnerability. Conversations that require openness and honesty get drowned out. We are conditioned to believe that keeping the peace sometimes means keeping our mouths shut. In the end, this legacy of avoiding the uncomfortable ends up creating relationships with deep silences.
Adopting pop-culture families
Many people found refuge in the onscreen friendships on Friends. People like me found a sense of connection while we suffered from loneliness. The generation that grew up with the show has aspired to build such camaraderie.
When I started living on my own, I also found the assurance of having friends that always have my back. But just like the show Friends, we also had to accept that we cannot always be in physical proximity. When the pandemic hit, many of us went back to live with our parents. And while most of us were aware of our family issues, living together as adults really exposed our dysfunctionality. At this stage, I found solace in shows like Full House and Modern Family. The chaos in these households showed me that there is always room for warmth, understanding, and acceptance.
Every South Asian millennial has a story to share of how afraid they were of their fathers while growing up. So, fathers like Phil, Cameron, Mitchell, Danny and even Jay seemed like miracles. Through Jay and Claire, I saw parents admit when they were wrong and make amends for it. Phil showed that being a parent means to be there, and he showed up for his three very different kids in their ways. Through Cameron and Mitchell, I learned that we could be different from our parents and yet not hurt them.
Danny Tanner’s nurturing spirit in Full House often made me revisit my younger days. How different it would have been to have my parents respect me as a person. I think I would have grown up with more self-confidence if I had the assurance that making mistakes would not be the end of the world.
Last thoughts
I realise that wanting real life to emulate sitcoms is an act of wishful thinking. It’s almost like wishing for a script that neatly ties up every conflict and misunderstanding. I know Friends is unrealistic because no group of adults can afford to hang out with each other all the time. Modern Family only offers a picturesque view of familial relationships, often filled with heartwarming resolutions and idealistic values.
But I have also witnessed many parents, including mine, acknowledge the fractures in their connections with their children. They actively work with their children to repair their relationships. These efforts give me hope that things can get better. Perfection is unattainable, but growth and healing are very much within reach.
And so, it scares me when new parents today complain that children no longer fear their parents. They mock theories that explain the need to respect children as people. They create a new burden of expectations for the child to carry along their lifetime. Unconsciously, I see new parents replicate the same patterns that they experienced growing up.
I see these adults struggle to break free from the idea that parents can do no wrong. Admitting our relationship had fractures does not vilify our parents. By acknowledging the past, we are not negating their love and efforts. They were also victims of this culture. The challenge here is the reluctance to break away from this cycle. If we cannot critically assess what worked and what didn’t, how will we ever change the pattern. Bringing this change does not mean rejecting our roots. It just shows our commitment towards healthier and more nurturing parenting.
