10/25/2026
While reading Kenneth Barish’s book on parenting and grandparenting, I kept thinking back to my own upbringing. I have long believed that good parenting can make a profound difference in a person’s life.
I spent my adolescent years during the tumultuous decade of China’s Cultural Revolution (文化大革命, Wénhuà Dà Gémìng, 1966–1976).
During that period, young people, especially students organized into groups known as the Red Guards (红卫兵, Hóng Wèi Bīng), were encouraged to challenge established authority, including teachers, school administrators, intellectuals, and Party officials. In the name of revolution, many participated in persecution, humiliation, violence, and the destruction of cultural heritage. The slogan “革命无罪,造反有理” (Gémìng wú zuì, zàofǎn yǒu lǐ)—“Revolution is no crime; rebellion is justified”—captured the spirit of the time.
Looking back, it is hard to believe how society departed so far from normal life and basic human decency. Yet I was too young to understand the larger political forces at work. What saddens me most is that my parents, too, were caught up in the revolutionary fervor.
At school, becoming a Red Guard was considered a sign of being politically progressive. What I remember most vividly—and still feel uncomfortable about—is the pressure I faced to join the Red Guard. Both my parents had joined the Chinese Communist Party when they were young, so they could not understand why I was not eager to demonstrate my political commitment. I remember feeling so burdened by this issue that I sometimes tried to avoid them, afraid they would bring up the topic.
Joining the Red Guards was not as simple as expressing a desire to do so. I had to write self-criticism reports for class leaders, have what were called “heart-to-heart talks” with them, cultivate good relationships with those in charge, and perform good deeds to demonstrate my political attitude. Most difficult of all, I felt I would have to do many things against my own wishes. I think I was a rebel at heart. I resisted doing many of the things I was expected to do.
Yet I could not bring myself to explain all this to my parents, especially my father, who believed I should be humble enough to approach the class leaders and win their approval. I felt caught between my parents’ expectations and who I really was.
Looking back, I think my adolescent years would have been happier if my parents had been able to see beyond the temporary revolutionary fervor and recognize how difficult that period was for me. I wish they had recognized that the Red Guard movement was part of an extraordinary and deeply turbulent political upheaval, rather than a test of whether a young person was progressive.
This brings me back to the subject of parenting. I believe parental wisdom matters enormously. Parents do not have to be right about everything, but they need the wisdom to make wise judgment and to distinguish lasting values from temporary social pressures. They should guide their children without demanding unquestioning conformity, and listen carefully when their children’s instincts differ from their own.
My parents were products of their time, just as I was. I am not blaming them here. Rather, I want my children to understand that good parenting requires not only the courage to guide children, but also the wisdom to think independently and the humility to listen to them. Sometimes, the greatest gift parents can give their children is the freedom to follow their own conscience.