What Alysa Liu's Gold Medal Taught Me About My Own Success
By now you've probably heard of Alysa Liu, and her remarkable story of becoming an Olympic gold medalist in figure skating. Her story and mine are very similar. My father was also a democracy activist in China and came to the U.S. as a political refugee after the Tiananmen Square uprising. My father also rebuilt his career in the U.S. from scratch and became an acupuncturist. Her father was 25 when he came to the U.S. Mine was 50.
What people don't understand about being heir to such a legacy is the incredible pressure on you as a kid. You know your parents made huge sacrifices to give you opportunities. You can see it every day in the way they work, the way they save, and their dedication to your education. Spare no expense, even while living in a one-bedroom apartment. (Case in point, I went to a prestigious private middle school costing $20k a year when that was my family's annual income.) As an immigrant, you're also isolated. There's no aunt or cousin or even a sibling to be in your corner.
When I was growing up, my parents also pressured me very hard to succeed on their terms. When my peers went to the mall with their friends on the weekends, I studied extra at home in English, math, and violin. I practiced my instrument every day. I never saw my friends outside of school and never went to any birthday parties or sleepovers. I received the highest score on the AP Calculus exam as a junior, and I studied multivariable calculus and differential equations in my last year of high school. My parents are both scientists and they wanted me to be a doctor.
The thing is, I am nothing like my parents, and I hated my life. Even though I excelled at math and science and violin, they gave me no joy. I was always more interested in art, literature, and the humanities. I went to Smith College and majored in English literature. But I cried at the beginning of every semester picking out my courses because I felt like a huge disappointment to my parents and so much anxiety about my future. At my graduation, I won virtually every award from the college in English literature, and Student Leader of the Year. I had a scholarship to study for a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing at the University of Utah, but I felt like a failure.
Twenty years later, my life has taken me in directions that were unimaginable and incomprehensible to my family. I became a climate activist and policy advocate, I earned a masters and PhD in environmental studies. I quit the Mormon faith I was brought up in when I was 21 and now I follow Buddhism and Wicca. At 43, I am single and childfree. I started my own business. I love relationships and have become the most sought after authentic relating facilitator in the area. Last weekend I facilitated a workshop on giving and receiving platonic touch.
Maybe when you grow up so restricted, you learn early to rebel. You think about who you are and what you really want, and go after it without your family's support. It's often a simple thing, like wanting to read poetry instead of chemistry. Or sleeping over at your best friend's house. Or dating someone your parents don't approve of. But what's beautiful is, they often come around and support you anyway. I love that Alysa Liu's story is an immigrant's story in becoming their authentic self. There may not be a gold medal for that, but the real prize is living every day with authenticity and happiness in making your own choices.