“I Was Strict, Scary And Kiasu”: Chen Xiuhuan On Raising 3 High-Achieving Daughters

On the fourth day of Chinese New Year, Singaporean actress Chen Xiuhuan sat in an auditorium in Sydney, watching her youngest daughter step onto the stage in a crisp white coat. 

As the 21‑year‑old veterinary science student slipped her arms into the sleeves, Xiuhuan felt something inside her unclench — a mix of pride, relief and quiet amazement that her “baby” was now walking into the profession she had loved since she was little.

It was also the third time one of her daughters had chosen a demanding professional path. 

Her eldest, 28‑year‑old Shanisse Tsai, graduated from the National University of Singapore’s Yong Loo Lin School of Medicine and is now a doctor, while 25‑year‑old middle child Shalynn Tsai is studying dentistry in Australia. 

“I felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders,” the 60-year-old told The Singapore Women’s Weekly. “She is finally studying what she wants. She has loved animals since she was young, and has always wanted to be a vet. All I wanted my daughters to do was to go to university, and my efforts raising them has paid off.”

From kampung girl to kiasu mum

To understand why education mattered so much to Xiuhuan, we’ve got to go back to her own childhood. Growing up in a kampung, she never had anyone guiding her through school.

“I didn’t get a chance to study. I was looked down upon, so even before my daughters were born, I already decided that my kids MUST go to university no matter what,” she said. “My parents had six kids and nobody guided us. I didn’t want my kids to be like me.”

So when she married businessman Fred Tsai in 1997 (he proposed seven times over four years of dating, BTW), she made the decision to walk away from full‑time acting to focus on raising their children.

“If I want to give birth, I must give them the best,” she explained.

Ironically, she didn’t even like children at first. “I never expected to have three daughters because I didn’t like kids,” Xiuhuan admitted with a laugh. “But once you give birth, it changes. My first, Shanisse, was a good baby. It was very easy to take care of her. So after that, I thought about a second, and then a third.”

From the start, she was clear about the kind of adults she wanted them to become — “anything but an actress,” she joked.

“They must be able to support themselves, have confidence, and not rely on others. I want them to be kind, know how to love, have compassion, and most important, be hardworking. Nothing is free, you’ve got to work for it.”

Strict, scary, kiasu, and very involved

When we asked Xiuhuan to sum up her parenting style, she pondered for a moment before replying: “Wah, I really don’t know. I think I was strict, scary, and kiasu.”

When her daughters were in kindergarten, she was already working ahead of the syllabus with them. 

“In K2, they were already doing Primary 1 work,” she said. She thought she was overdoing it, until one close friend confessed that her own son had struggled because they assumed the school would handle everything. “I knew I had to be ahead,” Xiuhuan stated.

She taught them most of the primary school subjects herself. “I read the exam papers, textbooks, and taught them. I felt like I studied so much until I could take the tests myself,” she recalled. “My husband taught math, while I taught the rest. Science was all experiments. I remember buying celery, dipping them into dyed water and ripping them up before explaining the process. English was spoken every day at home, and I also taught them Chinese.”

Xiuhuan herself followed a strict schedule in order to educate her kids. After sending them to school, she would go through their marked homework, noting where they could improve. 

At night, she turned their compositions into bedtime stories. “Until now, they still can remember the cheng yu (Chinese idioms),” she said proudly.

Her husband didn’t agree with her approach at first. “Before primary school, I was already doing Chinese, math and science with them. My husband thought I was stressing them out,” she said. “Since I was a stay‑at‑home mum, I felt it was better to have a headstart and teach slowly.”

What changed his mind, however, were the results. “After he saw the high scores, he believed my process was effective. The kids also had no stress — they could make friends and play. They were relaxed because they already knew the syllabus,” she said. 

Later, when teaching her secondary school girls was beyond her, Xiuhuan assured them that she would give them tuition if they requested it. 

“Whether you do well or not is up to you. I just know I already gave you my best,” she declared.  

In the end, her daughters excelled with just math and science tuition in secondary school. “There can’t be tuition for every subject lah! With CCAs and other side stuff, it’s too much!” she laughed.

No nonsense at home

As you can already guess, days in the Tsai household ran like clockwork.

After school, lunch would already be packed and waiting in the car. “The schedule was very strict,” said Xiuhuan. “They would eat in the car on the way home from school, and immediately start on their homework after a shower. After that, it was music practice, dinner, short playtime in the backyard, and bedtime at 8.30pm.”

There were non‑negotiable rules: no staying overnight at friends’ houses, even for all‑girls sleepovers, and no screen time.

“We need to protect them. We don’t know who is in the other person’s house,” she explained. “I also didn’t allow them to watch TV.”

Instead of screen time, Xiuhuan kept them engaged with educational activities, including going to the library and borrowing books. 

“We didn’t watch TV. They had no iPad or handphones, only storybooks,” she said. 

And when celebs such as Hong Huifang dropped by their home, the girls had no idea they were famous — they knew Huifang as “auntie”. They only realised their mum was a star when, at a primary school parent‑teacher meeting, teachers started asking for photos with Xiuhuan.

For all the structure, there was also a strong “work hard, play hard” philosophy. 

“When they play, we really bring them to play,” Xiuhuan insisted. “After exams, we’d go swimming, travelling and more… That’s the time for them to play. We are really very enthusiastic, especially at theme parks like Disneyland.” 

Self-confessed tiger mum

Over the years, Xiuhuan has been open about being a “tiger mum”, even using the label herself in interviews and social media posts.

But she draws a clear line between being strict and being harsh.

“I admit I am very focused on their education,” Xiuhuan confessed. “I’m strict with academics and also their morals — they must not lie and cheat. I was strict in a way that I enforced rules and structure. But as parents, we are not aggressive; we have never laid hands on them.”

She recalled the time she discovered one of her daughters had asked their helper to complete her homework. “I realised that the handwriting was not hers when I was checking her homework. Turns out, she had asked our helper to do it. I called a meeting with her and our helper, and gave a stern warning about the consequences of lying or cheating,” Xiuhuan said. “They never did it again.”

No spoiling her kids, ever

Her stance on money and material comfort is equally firm. “I told them, if you want something, you need to work for it. I will not buy them a house or car. If I spoil them with everything, they won’t know the value, and won’t understand how tough it is to earn money.”

Discipline at home was structured, even down to how and when punishment happened. She and her husband agreed that caning would only be used for serious moral issues, like lying. And when there was caning, it would be on the butt or thigh, with a maximum of two strokes.

“My dad slapped me when I was young and I hated him forever,” Xiuhuan said. “I will never use my hands to beat them. Hands are meant to sayang (care and love).”

As the girls grew older, the cane was used less and conversations took over. “When they reached upper primary, we started to reason with them,” she said.

Guarding their hearts

While Xiuhuan’s academic expectations were high, so was her emotional investment in motherhood. She was determined not to repeat the coldness she had felt growing up.

“I was involved not only in their education, but also their emotions,” she said. “I made sure to show them I still love them, by hugging them and encouraging them. We cheer each other on.”

Whenever she had to discipline them, she made it a point to circle back and repair. 

“No matter what, I will always tell them: ‘I love you, but you did this and it’s wrong.’ At the end of the day, we cry together,” she reminisced.

When less‑than‑ideal grades came home, she didn’t explode the way you might expect from a tiger mum. Instead, she would sit them down, reassure them that their effort mattered more than the score, and gently encourage them to “try again”. 

“They would be shocked and question themselves,” Xiuhuan said. “I would tell them that it’s okay to not always get the grades you want, and that their best efforts are enough. Just try again.”

Ultimately, the mother-of-three feels that children need to experience both failure and success, so that they learn how to bounce back.

“You can’t always be the first in everything you do. Just like in life, there are ups and downs,” she shared.

Learning to find herself

Looking back, there were moments when Xiuhuan wondered if she had gone too far.

“I think I was too much!” she said frankly, when we asked if she would parent the same way again. “I must’ve been way too scary. That’s why, even until now, I still ask my daughters if they’ve ever hated me. I was really overdoing everything. During their childhood, I didn’t have a life. I forgot myself because everything was about them.”

The startling realisation that she had lost herself came on a holiday with a friend, over a simple question about food. “She asked me what I like to eat. I totally forgot what I like to eat. I was always eating the kids’ leftovers. I didn’t even know what dishes I liked because I was too focused on them,” she said.

Over time, and especially as her daughters became teenagers and young adults, she began to loosen her grip. She listened when her husband gently reminded her that the girls no longer needed the same level of control, and allowed herself to evolve from tiger mum into something softer.

“I am different now,” Xiuhuan smiled. “Just pass can already.”

In fact, she now tells them: “Please remember to relax, enjoy and play!”