We Never Really Got to Be Kids, Growing Up Fast in an Ethnic Household in the 90s

You know that feeling when you were eight years old, staring at the future through rose-colored glasses, dreaming of turning eighteen? Driving, having your own money, exploring the world… I couldn’t wait. Thinking back now, those innocent years feel like a gift I didn’t fully understand. Being naïve—blissfully unaware of life’s pressures—sometimes is the best gift childhood can give.

But for those of us who grew up in ethnic households in the 90s, childhood didn’t quite look like that. While my white Australian classmates worried about sleepovers . I was juggling responsibilities far beyond my age.

I was the family translator, the one reading package instructions at the supermarket. As the eldest sibling, I had to shine—not for myself, but to set the example for my sisters. You learned early that your childhood wasn’t yours—it was a training ground for resilience.

No one talks about this side of growing up in an immigrant family. The endless expectations. Parents stretched thin, emotionally unavailable, working to survive in a country that wasn’t theirs. Learning a new language while preserving old traditions. Living in a world where showing your emotions or asking for help wasn’t an option

We didn’t really get to be kids. We learned to navigate life fast, to grow up before we were ready. But here’s the thing: that chaos shaped us into the women we are today—strong, resourceful, and unafraid to carry our truths.

Sometimes, I still put on those metaphorical rose-colored glasses and remember what it felt like to be just a kid—even if it was only for a moment. And maybe that’s the bittersweet part: we grew up too fast, but every challenge, every expectation, every stolen bit of innocence made us resilient.

So, to all the women who grew up faster than their peers, especially in ethnic households: your story matters. Your childhood, messy and complicated as it was, shaped you—and that strength is yours to own.