Top Image: Alfieyah Abdullah / RICE Media
Kids? What’s the rush? Just let me be content, along with the many other Singaporeans who’ve chosen to embrace the child-free lifestyle.
In Singapore, some policies—lengthening maternity leave, introducing paternity leave, the famed Baby Bonus—have been around since the 1980s. Yet the number of babies we produced hit a record low in 2023. The government does what it can to support hopeful parents, even when cultural norms pose challenges.
Once upon a time, large families were the norm. Children were viewed from the perspective that ‘more hands make light work’. Parenting was less about emotions and more about survival. And, of course, beating ye olde infant mortality rate.
Then came the two-child policy, and we know where that got us today. Culturally, though, we’re now seeing a shift in parenting approaches. Along with recent TikTok trends spotlighting ‘gentle parenting’, one might have noticed a growing focus on emotional, financial, and educational development.
However, not all families have embraced contemporary parenting styles. Values such as family unity or filial piety continue to prevail—and when overdone, they come with harmful consequences. For instance, older siblings buckling under the weight of raising younger ones while simultaneously managing household tasks.
Having children shoulder the weight of family responsibilities equates to the loss of their childhood. No carefree memories, no time for hobbies. No time to discover themselves and who they want to be when they grow up.
Instead, it’s replaced by a rinse-and-repeat checklist of cooking simple meals, sending siblings to school, and even earning extra money for household expenses.
It is perhaps through this trauma of parentification—a role reversal that pre-maturely burdens a child with parental responsibility—that we can start to understand why some Singaporeans aren’t so keen to start their own families.
More Children, Less Responsibilities?
22-year-old Danial* is the youngest in a family of five siblings.
Both his parents come from large families (more than five siblings on each side), so when it came time for them to start a family of their own, having more kids was a no-brainer.
Growing up, he often heard them repeating the mantra, “Children are rezeki”—a common Malay-Muslim refrain that views children as ‘blessings’ or bringers of ‘good fortune’.
But he has a different view.
“So what if they are [rezeki]? Some days, we can’t even eat. The power gets turned off. I’m tired. I’m tired of being the parent,” he says.
Despite having four other siblings, Danial only has his older brother, Adam*, to lean on. If it weren’t for Adam giving up his further education to take on a part-time job, Danial wouldn’t have graduated. Turns out, at the time, his mother had utilised the funds meant for his studies for her personal expenditures.
His father prioritises his sisters, making sure to check in and even travelling to their workplaces to spend time with them. They aren’t expected to contribute to any of the household bills or expenses either.
Most nights, it’s just Danial and Adam at the kitchen table, scrounging for snacks or sharing a pack of instant noodles, while their sisters document their fancy dinners on social media.
Day by day, Danial finds himself harbouring feelings of neglect and resentment towards his parents and sisters for their hands-off approach.
The result?
“I’ve stopped wanting marriage and kids. What’s the point of having so many [kids] if there’s no support within the family, and we barely even get by?”
Often, forcing a child to “grow up quickly” can lead to developing adult emotions at an earlier age—anxiety, depression, or guilt. They can grow up seeing no value in themselves.
Instead, they internalise the belief that their value is tied to fulfilling the needs of others. And these are realities that policies are not designed to alleviate.
The Solo Life
Socially—and especially within the Asian context—parentification is sometimes romanticised as a noble thing. When children take on adult responsibilities, they are celebrated as “mature” or “responsible” and feel the pressure to uphold said label.
For 32-year-old Jay*, the burden of obligation and his family’s dependency left him feeling jaded and alone.
After a long day at work, he treads home to take care of mundane tasks like laundry and cooking dinner for the family. When things get rough, he acts as a mediator between his younger siblings and parents so that the family can continue to function as a well-oiled machine.
Despite his sacrifices, Jay turned into the family’s punching bag. His parents were already facing their fair share of marital issues. Instead of choosing to work on them, Jay’s father would pick fights with him.
Once, a physical kerfuffle got so bad that he had to lodge a police report.
“It left me with a scar here,” Jay says, pointing to his chest.
In response, his mother called him childish and made excuses. His sisters were no different, brushing him off when he needed a listening ear.
With no outlet to express his emotions, he’s learnt to mask the psychological harm he’s experienced.
At that moment, Jay realised that his family only saw him as a problem-solver, not a human being.
“I feel like my whole life has been an obligation. Always feeling the need to put people in front of me. I have to be there to help my sisters. I have to be more responsible. I can’t stray from being ‘good’. I can’t not care.”
He continues, “I don’t want to live my life without being able to make my own choices or decisions. I just want to be selfish. I don’t want to have people depend on me anymore. I want to control my life. If I can’t do that, it’s safe to say life is not worth living, right?”
Traumatised by his parents’ relationship, Jay no longer sees the need for companionship. Beyond that, he believes his generational trauma could translate to his own children in the future, turning him into a “bad parent” who’s unable to healthily express emotions.
As societal perception continues to reinforce the idea that children should shoulder responsibility for the family’s emotional or practical needs, the emotional toll is often invisible.
The children who undergo parentification—like Danial and Jay—are left suffering in silence. No doubt, the effects of it are already manifesting within them.
Fear Of Starting Anew
The repercussions that individuals like Danial and Jay feel are a ripple effect of parents not being able to comprehend the importance of emotions and mental health.
Things might be changing now. We speak more openly about how we feel with our friends, and in turn, younger millennial parents are emphasising open communication with their children.
But for those who’ve felt the emotional absence of their parents, the emotional scars run deep.
Parentification is complicated, and its impact won’t disappear overnight. Complex and multifaceted solutions will likely be required to tackle adequately. It’ll take some time for people like Danial and Jay to heal.
At the same time, this phenomenon frequently goes unaddressed in our conversation about Singapore’s plunging birth rate. ‘Freedom’ and ‘cost of living’ tend to bementioned, but less so the fact that some Singaporeans were simply not raised in healthy family environments.
Only when parentified children can address their emotional wounds and feel ready enough to parent from a healthy space, our birth rate might remain at an all-time low. Until then, all our Baby Bonuses will only be able to do so much.
