You Can Respect Where You Came From Without Letting It Limit Where You Go

Growing up in Hong Kong, I was raised in a traditional Asian household where success looked quite specific.

Study hard.
Get good grades.
Become someone important.

And by “important,” there were usually only a handful of acceptable options: doctor, lawyer, or some other highly respected professional career.

Like many children of traditional Asian parents, I grew up understanding that academic success wasn’t just encouraged — it felt like survival. Your grades weren’t simply grades. They were your worth, your future, your security, and in many ways, your family’s pride.

I still remember, very clearly, sitting in my room just before one of my university exams. My mum was there, asking me what I wanted to do with my life.

Then she said something that stayed with me for years:

“You’re not smart enough to be a doctor, not smart enough to be a lawyer… so what can you do?”

Looking back now, I don’t share that story because I want sympathy, and I certainly don’t see myself as a victim.

I understand where that mindset came from. My mum was shaped by her generation, her life experiences, and a world where security often mattered more than passion. In many Asian households, practical careers weren’t just about status — they were about safety. Stability. Survival. So yeh, I am not upset with that comment, that's just life. But even when comments like that come from love or fear, they can still quietly shape the way you see yourself.

For a long time as a kid, I want to be a writer. I loved readings. I can read for days without shopping. I remembered my first time outing with a friend is actually the local library. 

But when I expressed that dream, I was quickly reminded: “No one reads these days.”

And just like that, the dream felt impractical. Dismissed. Smaller.

So like many people do, I followed the safer path. The more acceptable path.

I completed my Bachelor of Marketing at University of Sydney. Then my Master of Accounting at University of Western Sydney. But sadly, except from doing my own tax, I barely use most of what I studied.

After university, I worked in a hospital for five years. It was stable. Respectable. The kind of job many parents would feel relieved by but deep down I know this is what I want to do for the rest of my life. I remembered I once shared my "hobby" with my manager who happens to be an Asian lady, and she said "that's a good thing to have a hobby, it's something that you can hold onto when life gets hard" but no one see my "hobby" can be a thing. 

When I moved to Australia, I also experienced a kind of cultural shock I never expected.

I realised the world didn’t operate by the exact same hierarchy I had been taught. I remember being genuinely shocked that a garbage truck driver could earn more than many office workers. I remembered the thought of "didn't mum said if I don't study well I will ended-up being a garbo" ? 

In the culture I grew up in, that didn’t make sense.

But that’s exactly the point.

The world is so much bigger than the narrow version of success many of us were handed.

Not everyone needs to become a doctor or lawyer to be worthy.
Not everyone is meant to follow the same script.
And being respected by society does not automatically mean being fulfilled by your own life.

Eventually, after years of study, corporate work, and trying to fit into boxes that never felt entirely right, I found my way back to creativity.

To writing.
To drawing.
To building something that actually feels like me.

And no, choosing a creative path hasn’t always been easy.
I don’t think pursuing creativity is magically simpler for Westerners or for anyone else either.

But I do think that when you grow up in certain cultures, there can be an extra layer of resistance — a deeper fear that stepping outside traditional success means disappointing your family, wasting your education, or somehow becoming “less.”

That pressure is real.

Even now, there are moments when my mum still makes comments that what I do isn’t as impressive as being a lawyer or doctor.

And honestly? Sometimes it still stings.

Because cultural expectations can leave echoes, even when you’ve outgrown them.

But I’ve learned something I wish my younger self understood sooner:

You can love and respect where you came from without letting it define the boundaries of your future.

You can appreciate your parents’ sacrifices, understand their fears, and still choose differently.

You can honour your culture without shrinking yourself to fit its outdated limitations.

But after spending more than half of my life in Australia. I started to believe every person has a role in society and I believe meaningful work matters.

Every now and then I feel like I am not doing a meaningful job just because I am not living in a certain area, driving a particular car and going overseas holiday every year. But I keep on reminding myself success is no longer about fitting into a title that impresses people.It’s about waking up and knowing the life I’ve built feels honest.

So if you were raised to believe there was only one acceptable way to succeed, I hope you know this:

The version of success you inherited does not have to be the only version available to you. Sometimes respecting where you came from also means having the courage to go further than it ever imagined.

Because culture can shape you.

But it does not have to limit you.