Lazy, defiant and disorganised?
The ‘model minority’ myth and ADHD
By Tanisha Wong
8 minute read
Ah, the myth of the ‘model minority’. Such is the narrative that all Asian people are academic geniuses or musical prodigies who keep quiet and work hard, who don’t cause drama or engage in confrontation, and will end up in white-collar or healthcare based jobs.
Not that bad right? I mean if the stereotype is that we are intelligent, even-tempered and hardworking, then aren’t those positive traits to be associated with?
But what if I told you that there are some of us who on the surface are still traditionally “high-achieving”, but deep down face daily hurdles from neurodivergence?
Over the years I have lived a life that, on the surface, resembles that of the “model minority”: in school I had great academic results and studied law at university. But in order to get here I have spent years furiously trying to keep my head above water. With each year that passed, I grew more and more frustrated with myself and exhausted, unable to understand why it was so difficult to do things that seemed so normal to other people.
Neurodiversity is not something I understood until very recently. Societal and cultural pressures and gendered stereotypes coupled with a lack of awareness of different ways of thinking led me to think that I was becoming lazy, defiant, and disorganised. However recently I’ve come to realise that some brains function differently to the standards that have been set by society and it doesn’t mean that I’m failing, it just means finding my own truths to living a fulfilling life.
ADHD is more than meets the eye
Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder results from the brain developing differently during key stages of development in early childhood or even before birth, and can often be genetically inherited. People with ADHD produce lower dopamine in their brains than normal which leads them to constantly seek out constant stimulation and instant gratification.
If you know someone with ADHD, you may have witnessed the ‘all or nothing’ mentality. The brain refuses to do anything it simply doesn’t want to do. That includes tasks at work, housework, administrative tasks, cleaning and focusing on one thing/project/ conversation at a time. These actions can result in poor short-term memory, lateness, inconsistency in behaviour or performance at a job, getting bored when novelty or unfamiliarity wears off, and disorganisation in everyday life.
On the other hand, the brain is extremely pleased by what it deems to be pleasant. When it finds something it likes, it will search every crevice of the world for any related resource, and dedicate hours perfecting the craft, concept or activity. How long the brain can keep this hyperfocus for, is up to however long it can extract dopamine from it.
An important and less widely known trait of ADHD is executive dysfunction. This can come in the form of dysregulated emotions, rampant overthinking, and self-villainising in everyday situations. This is the one I find the most difficult to manage as it can catapult a simple hiccup into spiralling thoughts of humiliation, resentment and inadequacy.
More advanced awareness of ADHD can help people understand that there might be a neurological reason behind their actions, especially if they have fallen into the cycle of trying to ‘fix’ themselves over and over with no avail; and find hope that there is specialised treatment available.
Advanced for my age
Looking at my childhood you’d never think that this definition of ADHD could ever apply to me.
I was a chatty, charismatic child who told any adult I came across that I wanted to be a pediatrician when I grew up. I knew all my times tables by the time I was 6 and was separated from the rest of the class, not because I was disruptive but because I was far ahead of the primary syllabus. I skipped a grade in primary school, held captaincy roles, competed in piano and drama competitions and frequently received principal awards.
You would think: what an academically gifted child. Frankly, so did I. In a way I fulfilled the "model minority" narrative. From the ages of 4 to 12, teachers, extended family and my parents’ friends would pat my parents on the back and say I was a ‘dream child’, and congratulate me on my future successes.
That’s probably why it felt like such a landslide when it came crashing down.
First signs
High school was a rollercoaster. Many adults who get diagnosed with ADHD later in life notice their problems did not begin until later in their schooling journey. They report being a high achieving child who soared in classes and across extracurriculars, but began to struggle as homework and assignments were introduced. This makes the process in seeking diagnosis and treatment so difficult, as diagnostic requirements in Australia usually include assessment of primary school report cards.
Graduating High School
My overachieving childhood led me to attend a selective entry high school where students were taught the rigorous International Baccalaureate program and were shaped to become doctors, researchers, lawyers, and scientists. The school’s motto was ‘bright minds, brilliant futures’, but I felt my ‘brilliant future’ slipping away as my parents were called and emailed for my non-completion of homework, inattention in class and eventually suspension for poor choices.
“You don’t have ADHD, you study law…”
This is a statement I heard variations of for many years when I would so much as slightly bring up troubles with motivation and concentration.
Like many Asian Australians can relate, my parents always wanted me to have a career that would bring financial security and stability. Despite low high school grades, I was lucky to receive an offer to study a Bachelor of Laws and Business through an inter-institutional agreement. I felt like accepting the offer was the least I could do.
Suddenly I was surrounded by eager first year law students who already had overseas programs, competitions, student executive positions and internships lined up. I could barely remember what time my tutorials were and when I did, I went in without preparation and was unable to pay attention.
In all honesty, I really did want to do well in my studies. I wanted to make my parents proud and make up for my high school woes but it felt as if the weeks that passed were a blur and without even knowing it, I was 8 weeks into the semester and had not done any readings nor read the assignment briefs. Those with unmanaged ADHD can experience time blindness to the concept of time, leading to constant lateness no matter how early they get ready, and months flying by without them realising.
No matter what I did, I could never quite hack the university experience. I tried the pomodoro technique, delayed gratification, installed website blockers and focus apps but the only thing that worked was the adrenaline that would rush through my body 5 hours before an assignment due date or the night before a 3 hour final exam.
Somehow, I never dropped out of Law. I think it was because I felt like I owed it to my parents to finish a university degree, especially one with such perceived prestige.
Graduating University
The world is your oyster, you just have to search hard for the pearl
People congratulated me after I finished my degree. “You’re going to be a lawyer!”, they said, but I couldn’t help shake the sense of guilt that it felt like I had done the bare minimum yet again in my life.
I was lucky to land a job before graduating at a pre-seed tech startup. This role allowed me to experiment freely and write a job description for myself. Every day was different with people coming in and out, countless versions of pitch decks, and emails that would restructure our entire day. This job energised me through its unfamiliarity and unpredictability… until it didn’t anymore six months later.
My need for a polarising change led me to seek out an experience in corporate, and I landed a job at one of the Big 4 firms, the antithesis of my previous work environment. I have to laugh at myself when I think about the places I find myself in. Today I work in product and visual design and find myself back in the hands of learning, but on my own terms this time. Recently, I have also found myself revisiting a promise to my younger self – not the one that wanted to be a paediatrician, but the one who loved arts and crafts – to explore creative industries. As for law, I am one module from being formally admitted as a solicitor, so I guess you can call me a jack of all trades, and truly a master of none.
ADHD sticks around long after school. It is a lifelong way of being that I have to learn to manage so that I can be aware of what I need to work on, and allow myself to prosper. Awareness leads to acceptance, which enabled me to understand and eventually begin the journey of embracing my differences.
Growing up, I thought that I struggled to relate to the Asian Australians around me. There is the notion of our communities working so hard and achieving so much yet still feeling imposter syndrome. Yet, I felt embarrassed that I found it so difficult to complete a simple homework task, or to put shoes on to pick up parcels from my apartment lobby.
On paper, I checked all the boxes of the model minority blueprint. A high performing child who graduated from the state’s highest ranked high school, completed a double degree and worked a corporate job. But I always felt like a square peg in a round hole, feeling like there were so many invisible barriers that blocked my ability to ‘just study’, ‘try harder’ or efficiently manage academic and professional responsibilities.
Over the years, I have come to learn that achievements can come in many formats, and it took leaving ‘model minority’ monolithic thinking behind to acknowledge that I don’t need to force myself into unsuitable environments anymore, and that I wasn’t broken just because it didn’t work for me.
There is a lack of mental health and neurodiversity awareness in Asian communities and a stigma around seeking diagnoses and treatment that stems from the generations that came before us. I don’t blame them as they had far less resources and support in this space than we do now. But, this puts us in a spot where we can rewrite the narrative and foster more healthy spaces for neurodiverse brains to thrive in future generations.
Follow Tanisha on Instagram @tanishawong
