So, what does your daughter do?
It’s the question every Asian mother prepares herself for.
You see, the Asian culture (like many others I’m sure) has a huge academic focus. The success of a parent is almost defined by the careers of their children – and certain career paths have more cache than others.
Doctors and lawyers are wonderful. Accountants suitably pleasing and dentists are impressive.
These are all solid careers, bound to bring much joy to the parent who is lucky enough to utter the words, “Yes my daughter is a [insert lauded profession here]”.
I’m none of the above. I’m an independent entrepreneur, with a blog and training programs for female entrepreneurs. I also have an established career as a fashion stylist that can be viewed as “successful” by most objective standards in the western world. I’ve been on television, I’ve published a book and I’m a source for comment for some of the country’s biggest media outlets.
But my choices have left some of my family with a conundrum. How to describe what I do at family events? How to introduce me at social functions without a solid professional label that everyone understands?
Cultural factors condition us to believe certain things and, in my culture, one of those things was that academic achievements and traditional career paths equate to security and success. For quite a number of years I let that perception dictate my own path.
But today when I talk at women’s business and leadership events, I talk about the one big lesson that my cultural legacy has taught me. That is this: It really doesn’t matter where you’ve come from, or the expectations placed on you – you can create your own version of success as long as YOU believe it.
It wasn’t an easy lesson to learn.
My mum was the youngest of 10 children. My maternal grandfather was captured and held for multiple periods during the war. Times were often tough and money was scarce.
Mum and her siblings were the first generation to go to university, which led to positions in teaching or the public service, a comfortable life, a stable income and little fear of unemployment.
Understandably my parents saw education as an insurance policy. What could go wrong when one is armed with a university degree?
At great personal and financial sacrifice, my parents sent me and my two older sisters to Australia to study, with the hope that an education in a more developed nation would give their children a brighter future.
My two older sisters ticked the boxes in their professional choices; my eldest sister studied law and the other did medicine. When the time came for me to apply for university, the tough questions came.
“What about dentistry? They make such good money…”, Mum suggested hopefully, pondering the possibility she might have a golden trifecta on her hands – a doctor, lawyer AND a dentist in the family!
But being bad with numbers, unable to look at blood and not up for the long hours of law, I did the next best thing: I gained a place at the University of New South Wales and initially enrolled in – wait for it – IT.
Yes, this creative, verbose, word-loving child bowed to the pressures of her culture. I felt that having a computer-science degree would make everyone happy. I lasted all of three weeks before realising I desperately needed to swap majors (and quick) if I was ever going to pass university.
So I swapped – and came out with a shiny undergraduate degree in marketing. I even secured a marketing job in a large telecommunications company before graduation.
While I hadn’t completed the trifecta, my mother was safe in the knowledge that her youngest born was at least firmly ensconced in a well paying corporate job, and that everything she had sacrificed had been worth it.
That is, until I decided to throw in the towel on my cushy corporate job, do a 180-degree turn and become a fashion stylist. Explaining my decision and sticking to it, in spite of the doubts of those around me, became my biggest challenge when I ended my corporate career.
Imagine what my family would have had to say to those around them “Our daughter chucked in her secure, well-paying day job as a marketing executive to do… umm….something to do with fashion and websites and some other, umm, stuff”.
Understandably, no one could comprehend the concept. Yet they are my biggest supporters. They have always had faith in me and they could not be prouder. My past and my family culture gave me the motivation and work ethic to be successful, but it hasn’t defined my choices.
The challenge for anyone with a strong cultural legacy is to respect and treasure it – hold it dear to your heart – but never let it dictate the great possibilities of your future.