I Used to Be Excessively Competitive, But I Won’t Raise My Daughter That Way
When my husband and I first moved in together, we spent our evenings playing Gin Rummy while listening to podcasts, feeling like we were decades older than our actual age. If you’ve ever played Gin Rummy, you know it’s a laid-back game; it lacks the high stakes of poker. It was a relaxing way to end the day—until one evening, I noticed a change in his strategy. He started holding his cards and shouting “Rummy!” before I could see how many he had left. To me, this felt dishonest. So, like any rational adult, I flipped the table, sent the cards flying, and stormed out to the car. Where was I headed? No clue—perhaps to a world where games are played fairly? I yelled, “I’ll never play with you again, cheater!” Talk about acting like a child. We never played Gin Rummy again. Now, whenever I suggest a board game, he cautiously asks, “We’re not keeping score, right?”
I grew up in a household where competition was not only encouraged but expected. Like many immigrants, my family taught me that there was no such thing as “good enough.” It was either “the best” or “everyone else.” I completely understand the motivation behind this mindset. The American Dream is rooted in scarcity; only a select few achieve success, and my family wanted to ensure I was among them.
However, this lesson became a significant part of my identity, and not necessarily in a positive way. As a child, I would constantly compare my grades with others, feeling deflated if someone scored even slightly higher than I did. In high school, I even snuck into the vice principal’s office to check my classmates’ GPAs so I could gloat about mine. Unsurprisingly, my competitiveness made me quite unpopular when it came to games.
Eventually, I became more adept at hiding my intense competitiveness, but it still simmered beneath the surface, ready to erupt even in the most trivial situations. Then I became a parent. One of my biggest fears was turning into that stereotypical mom—the one who boasts about her child’s advanced skills or whose kids are always perfectly polite. Yet, when I first gazed into my newborn’s eyes, I realized I didn’t need to compare her to anyone. I saw how unique she was, and how love can exist without competition. We were already perfect for one another.
However, my peace was short-lived. I soon recognized a competitive spark in my typically sweet daughter. During a recent school contest where kids tracked the number of books they read to build a paper chain, she became surprisingly fierce. “I will beat them all,” she declared, eyes gleaming with determination.
I was taken aback. “Or we could just enjoy reading without worrying about winning!” I suggested, hoping to shift her focus. She was having none of it: “What’s the point if I don’t win?”
I assure you, I didn’t intentionally instill this competitive drive in her. We focus on cooperative games and support one another. I’m careful to avoid comparisons around her. Yet here she was, ready to compete fiercely. I was concerned about the implications of this mindset, particularly in a contest that might unfairly favor some children over others due to varying circumstances at home. I didn’t want her to define her worth based on arbitrary competitions.
For days, I tried to encourage her to take a lighter approach, repeating the mantra, “It’s just for fun!” Each time, she reacted with a serious glare that reminded me of a boxer entering the ring.
Finally, the day of the contest arrived. The chains were displayed on the wall, and while my daughter had one of the longer chains, she didn’t win. Her friend Sam did, but they played together happily afterward. That night, I asked her how she felt about the contest. I intentionally avoided the words “win” and “lose.”
She pondered for a moment. “It’s okay. Sam read a lot.”
In that instant, she transformed back into her cheerful self. I expressed how proud I was of her effort, and we cuddled up with a book, enjoying the joy of reading just for the sake of it.
Throughout her life, competition will be inevitable—whether in school contests or sports. Her drive to do her best is admirable, but it should never dictate her self-worth or jeopardize her relationships. The competitiveness I inherited isn’t inherently negative; it’s tied to determination and ambition. The challenge lies in understanding when to opt out of certain competitions and to resist comparisons. After all, my daughter is one of a kind. So am I. And so are we all.
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Summary:
In this piece, the author reflects on her past as a highly competitive individual and her commitment to raising her daughter in a more balanced, less combative environment. Through personal anecdotes about family dynamics and her daughter’s emerging competitive spirit, she emphasizes the importance of valuing individuality over comparison. Ultimately, she seeks to instill a sense of joy in learning and self-worth that isn’t contingent on winning or losing.