Parenting Between Cultures, Raising Asian Kiwi Kids with Confidence

Parenting across cultures adds layers of complexity that many families quietly navigate. In this conversation with Eva Chen MNZM, we explored what it means to raise Asian Kiwi children while balancing Chinese and Taiwanese traditions with New Zealand systems. From pregnancy and childbirth to schooling, bullying, and redefining success, the discussion reflected the lived realities of raising children between two cultural worlds.

Eva is a mother of four, all born and educated in New Zealand, aged between 11 and nearly 20. As a 1.5-generation migrant, she understands both the cultural expectations she grew up with and the environment in which her children are growing up. That dual perspective shapes how she approaches parenting.

Cultural differences, she explained, begin before birth. In Chinese culture, pregnancy is guided by strict practices—certain foods are avoided, cold drinks are discouraged, and advice from elders is plentiful. In contrast, New Zealand’s medical system is more relaxed, focusing mainly on avoiding smoking, alcohol, and drugs. She was struck by how calm and hands-off the New Zealand approach felt compared to the frequent monitoring common in China and Taiwan.

Her childbirth experiences reflected this contrast. In New Zealand, she was surprised to be sent home rather than kept in hospital too early in labour, and by how quiet and composed the maternity wards were. While the pain of labour was real, the atmosphere remained steady and routine for staff accustomed to the process.

After birth, traditional practices such as postpartum confinement came into focus. In many Asian cultures, new mothers are expected to rest for a month, avoid showers, and eat warming foods to aid recovery. In New Zealand hospitals, staff were respectful of these customs but gently explained modern medical reasoning, such as why showering was safe. Eva noticed that while the system did not always automatically understand cultural or spiritual practices, it was often accommodating when asked. That experience shaped her belief that parents must advocate clearly for their needs.

The early months of motherhood brought intense exhaustion, particularly without extended family nearby. In many Asian households, grandparents and relatives provide hands-on support. For migrants, that support network is often absent. Sleep deprivation and constant caregiving created physical and emotional strain. Well-meaning comments from elders sometimes misinterpret fatigue as laziness, adding pressure rather than relief. These experiences deepened her empathy for other parents, especially those parenting alone.

Cultural tensions also emerged within the extended family itself. Taiwanese and Shanghainese traditions did not always align, and differing expectations sometimes created more stress than support. While confinement and family involvement can be helpful, they can also lead to conflict when advice clashes.

As her children entered school, new challenges appeared. Eva initially believed that being born in New Zealand and fluent in English would shield her children from bullying. That belief changed when her daughter experienced bullying, and the school’s response was slow. Emails went unanswered for months, and concerns were not addressed until formal advocacy and external pressure were brought to bear. Once accountability mechanisms were triggered, the response shifted quickly.

This experience highlighted how institutions often respond more effectively when parents demonstrate knowledge of policies and processes. It also revealed the additional burden migrant parents may carry—worrying that speaking up could make their children more vulnerable, particularly in environments where Asian representation in leadership positions is limited.

Not all difficulties were overt. Eva noticed physical symptoms such as stomach aches and headaches when her children were uncomfortable at school. In some cases, small adjustments from attentive teachers—clearer routines, advance notice of changes—made significant improvements. She emphasised that individual teachers make a profound difference, and that cultural sensitivity within classrooms directly impacts children’s sense of safety.

A central theme of the conversation was redefining success. Eva shared a story of her son proudly bringing home a 52 per cent maths score. His confidence and pride mattered more to her than the number itself. Extended family members questioned this approach, but she remained clear that effort and resilience were more important than perfection.

Her philosophy is grounded in three beliefs: children do not need to excel at everything, well-being matters more than grades, and confidence grows when effort is acknowledged. Reflecting on her own upbringing, she recognised how academic pressure can create fear of failure that lingers into adulthood. She chose not to pass that burden to her children.

When asked if she feels proud, Eva answered without hesitation. Watching her eldest child grow into a confident young adult affirmed that parenting has been her most meaningful work. The years were demanding and at times overwhelming, but they reshaped her understanding of resilience and purpose.

This conversation offers a grounded reflection on parenting between cultures. It reveals the importance of understanding systems, advocating when necessary, and allowing children to develop confidence without carrying the weight of perfection. For parents navigating similar paths, Eva’s experience demonstrates that cultural balance is not about choosing one identity over another, but about raising children with emotional safety, adaptability, and self-belief.

Full Podcast: Conversation with Eva Chen MNZM: Parenting Between Cultures, Raising Asian Kiwi Kids with Confidence

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