I just want genuine conversations while we watch our kids play
The other day, I took my kids to the playground. I was watching them laugh, climb, fall, and get back up again — doing what kids do.
Another mom came by with her son, who looked about the same age as mine.
We started chatting. It was friendly at first.
Then came the questions.
“Where do you live?”
“Which house?”
“Oh… is it the new expensive ones down the street?”
It got awkward fast.
Then she started bragging:
How she and her husband are almost mortgage-free.
How much their house is worth.
How her son is in soccer, hockey, fencing, baseball, and basically excels at everything.
Then she asked what sports my son does.
I told her, “He’s in a few programs at the community center.”
And she said — half-laughing —
“Oh, those ones? Yeah, we put our son in that for a bit, but…they didn’t offer the quality of teaching we wanted.”
She asks what I do for a living, and I say I’m a writer. She goes on a long rant about how she wrote a book during maternity leave, but that the whole writer thing was just a hobby…maybe something she’ll dabble with when she’s bored of consulting, since it didn’t make any real money.
She kept interrogating me for more information. I gave short, broad answers, but she would retort with something to one-up me or dismiss how much “better” she was.
I start to say that we need to get going, and I make a joke about how my kids will probably eat a bunch of junk later today at a birthday party. She comments on how she makes mac and cheese from scratch, as though I should be impressed.
Everything she said was ridiculous and, to be honest, a bit foolish since she has no idea who I am and what my family and I have achieved (or that I’ve made mac and cheese from scratch since I was a kid).
But there was a bigger issue…
Cue the deep, familiar trigger.
In that moment, it didn’t feel like a conversation. It felt like a competition I didn’t sign up for.
But part of me did sign up for it — because that’s how I was raised.
In Asian families, comparison isn’t just common — it’s a tool.
A way to “motivate.”
A way to push kids to perform.
A way to feel like your child is a reflection of your own worth.
From a young age, I was compared to my siblings, my cousins, my classmates.
Who had the highest grades.
Who had the fairest skin.
Who was tallest, thinnest, fastest, most obedient, and had the most impressive CVs.
Better than or less than — never just enough.
Even now, as a grown woman with kids of my own, those moments hit deep. That mom’s need to flex wasn’t really about me. But it still opened old wounds I thought I’d healed.
That’s why I created my workbook: How to Deal with Asian Parents
Because many of us are still navigating these emotional landmines. Still healing from the weight of growing up in a culture where our values are always being measured.
In this workbook, you’ll explore:
Why your relationship with your parents is so layered (and so important)
How comparison and “tough love” shaped your self-esteem
What to say when you want to break the cycle — without burning the bridge
How to stop competing and start connecting — with your family, your kids, and yourself
Get your copy of How to Deal with Asian Parents: The Workbook
You deserve to raise your kids without dragging your unhealed inner child behind you.
You deserve conversations that connect, not compare.
And you deserve to watch your child play at the park, without someone turning it into a scoreboard.
Without competition or comparing intentions,
Katharine
