The Problem with 'Generational Dysfunction'
Read time: 3 minutes
Welcome to issue #039 of Unicorn Parents. Each week, I share practical insights and reflections to help you build a profitable business without missing the magic at home. If you’re serious about winning at work while raising great kids, you’ve come to the right place. This is a community built for ambitious parents who want both.
Being an adult isn’t easy.
Being a parent isn’t easy.
And being a parent while building something (your career, your company, your family’s future) can feel impossible some days.
There are moments when the “mature” response doesn’t feel sensible at all.
When the invitation isn’t to win the argument, defend yourself, or prove you’re right, but to adopt what I call a Jesus-heart: to absorb, to sacrifice, to overwhelm with love the very person who is hitting, kicking, or fighting us.
That kind of response feels wildly inefficient.
And efficiency is what busy parents and founders are trained to optimize for.
Years ago in Chicago, a pastor once told me that the way I dealt with conflict showed that I grew up in a dysfunctional family. His framework was simple:
Every family passes down generational dysfunction, and his mission was to name it so it could be removed.
At the time, it didn’t sit well with me.
For example, my deep sense of responsibility toward my parents (my desire to take care of them0 he labeled as dysfunction.
Maybe he was wrong.
Maybe he was half right.
I’d say he was about 50/50.
I’m Asian.
I’m the oldest son.
I grew up with a quiet, unquestioned assumption: one day, I will take care of my family.
There is something noble in that.
There’s loyalty. Duty. Love.
But there’s also a silent cost.
The oldest son often becomes the “hero” of the story—almost like a Greek tragedy. Carrying the weight. Holding it together. Absorbing responsibility early. Meanwhile, the other children quietly become supporting characters.
That model made sense in agrarian, survival-based cultures.
It doesn’t translate cleanly into a modern, non-agrarian world—especially one already filled with pressure, performance, and scarcity.
And while collectivism has real merits, it doesn’t mean individualism is the answer either.
The real work is balance.
Here’s where I’ve landed as a parent.
It ends with me.
I will take care of my kids.
Emotionally. Practically. Spiritually.
They do not need to carry the weight of taking care of me one day.
They do not need to earn love.
They do not need to “give back.”
They do not need to grow up early.
They are allowed to receive—freely, fully, without pressure.
That’s not entitlement.
That’s security.
And security is the soil where healthy adults grow.
Our children are always watching.
Not our words, but our reflexes.
How we carry pressure.
How we handle responsibility.
How we model love without transaction.
The problem with the “generational dysfunction” frame isn’t self-examination (that part matters).
It’s when naming turns into blame.
Or worse, inevitability.
When something remains vague or unnamed, it gains power.
Like Voldemort in Harry Potter: the one-who-must-not-be-named becomes terrifying precisely because no one names him.
But when we name a pattern (and choose differently) we reclaim authorship.
For busy parents, especially those building companies, leading teams, or holding families together, this matters deeply.
Our kids don’t need perfect parents.
Not parents who blame their past.
Not parents who deny their patterns.
But parents who are brave enough to say:
“This ends with me.
And something better begins here.”
That’s not dysfunction.
That’s leadership—at home.
And that’s how generational change actually happens.