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Parenting

Is Wanting to Be a Tiger Mom a Trauma Response?

It's not about tough love; it's about needing a parenting rubric—and survival.

Key points

  • Vivek Ramaswany's understanding of tiger parenting sounds like 'tough love', but leaves something crucial out.
  • For most Post-Traumatic Parents (PTPs), Tiger parenting is a trauma response, not a parenting practice.
  • Having clear rubrics for success, and the illusion of controlling the uncontrollable feel necessary to PTPs.
  • Protection can seem more important than connection, until we realize connection IS protection.

Vivek Ramaswamy, a key member of President-elect Trump's team, recently reignited the debate around tiger parenting, equating it with "tough love" and framing it as a surefire path to success. His comments painted tiger parenting as a deliberate strategy for raising high-achieving, resilient children, but they overlooked the deeper roots of this parenting style.

Every time “Tiger Moms” enter the cultural discourse, I chuckle. I remember reading Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother as a young mom, and laughing as I imagined telling my deceased father that these practices are supposed to be reserved for Asian kids.

My reaction to that book seemed so much less judgmental than that of 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 attain mastery and that parents shouldn’t assume fragility in healthy children were particularly astute.

My friends seemed to see her as a one-dimensional figure: the demanding mom with her arms folded, demanding endless hours of violin practice. But I read a funny, conflicted mom who is truly struggling to figure out what her parenting practices should be in the face of a culture that believes otherwise.

Not having gotten 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 points went.

His higher education had been cut short by economic circumstances, and his chronic illness meant we relied on my mother’s job as a guidance counselor for our income. He always praised my mother’s master’s degree and stated his foregone conclusion that I’d attain a Ph.D. “Imagine...” he’d muse. “You get to write a thesis. And a dissertation.” His tone of voice made these sound like treats. (They weren’t, mostly.)

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 to. He told me that disciplined scholars faced their mistakes, and he was right.

I felt loved by my father, if frustrated by him, and I read Chua’s book in the same light. I knew that he was afraid of poverty and that he saw higher education as a buffer against that fate. He also knew that he was dying. He was trying to protect—and prepare—me.

Now, Vivek Ramaswamy has brought high-demand parenting back into cultural discourse.

As someone who works with parents navigating their own post-traumatic experiences, I’d argue that tiger parenting is, at its core, a trauma response. It’s not just about wanting your kids to succeed; it’s about needing them to. And that distinction matters 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 demands excellence. Kids are pushed to master difficult skills, often at the expense of leisure or emotional validation. While this approach can foster resilience, discipline, and achievement, it can also come with significant emotional costs—for both child and parent.

But why would a parent adopt such a rigid, high-pressure approach in the first place? Let’s explore how trauma influences 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 being the best meant losing opportunities—or worse, safety—it makes perfect sense that you’d do everything in your power to prevent your child from ever facing that reality.

Tiger parenting often comes from a place of profound fear:

  • Fear that your child won’t succeed in a hyper-competitive world.
  • Fear that their failures reflect your inadequacies as a parent.
  • Fear that their future security depends on perfection.

These fears are trauma talking. And when you’re parenting from a trauma response, your instincts are about protection—not connection. (For more about how trauma impacts our parenting practices, click here.)

AI Generated Image/123RF
Tiger parenting is often more of a trauma response than it is a parenting practice. It's tempting to use rubrics like grades or attendance records to stand in for parenting discernment. Let's analyze it as an attempt at protection, not a 'parenting style.'
Source: AI Generated Image/123RF

For many post-traumatic tiger parents, these outcomes are more than milestones—they’re metrics of success. This clarity is part of what makes tiger parenting so appealing. Parents struggling with trauma often lack discernment about how to parent. When you’ve endured a chaotic or uncertain past, it’s reassuring to have a clear rubric for success:

  • Your child makes the honor roll? You’ve succeeded.
  • They speak three languages or excel in music? You’re nailing it.
  • They win the perfect attendance award? Proof you’re doing something right.

Compare this to goals like raising children with a deep capacity for connection and joy, or instilling the fortitude to handle life’s challenges. These are harder to quantify. How do you know if your 8-year-old is on track for connection and joy? There’s no award for “best emotional well-being.” This lack of objectivity can leave post-traumatic parents feeling lost, especially if 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 ensuring your child thrives; it’s about protecting them from failures that feel synonymous with danger. For parents who 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 uncontrollable. It’s a system that provides structure and metrics, offering certainty in a world that feels unpredictable.

The Emotional Cost of Tiger Parenting

While tiger parenting often comes from a place of love, it can inadvertently harm the very children it seeks to protect. Why? Because children internalize more than just our expectations—they absorb our anxiety, fear, and unmet needs.

In families with tiger parenting, kids may learn that:

  • Their worth is tied to their achievements.
  • Failure is catastrophic, not an opportunity to grow.
  • Emotional needs are secondary to performance.

This can lead to a host of issues, from perfectionism and anxiety to feeling that parental love is conditional. Kids raised by tiger parents sometimes struggle to differentiate their own desires from their parents’ expectations, leaving them 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 achievement feels logical. You’re operating from a survival mindset—a deeply ingrained belief that only the best will survive.

But what makes sense isn’t always what’s 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 isn’t born of malice—it’s 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 safety.

For parents navigating the tension between external success and internal well-being, the question isn’t, “Am I doing enough?” but, “Am I giving my child the tools to thrive—emotionally, socially, and spiritually?” Yes, protection is important. But so is connection.


And in many ways, connection is protection.

References

Chua, A. (2012). Battle hymn of the tiger mother. Bloomsbury Publishing Plc.

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