by: Lydia Liu
Public Relations Manager

Having strict parents isn’t just a lifestyle; it’s a full-time survival game with levels, boss fights, and zero respawn chances. Other kids grow up learning how to ride a bike or cook; you grow up learning how to identify family members based on footsteps. You can tell which parent is coming down the hallway just by the vibe. Light steps mean you’re safe. Heavy steps mean phone down, homework up, posture fixed in 0.3 seconds.

Going out is never just “going out.” It’s a negotiation that requires strategy, timing, and luck. You don’t ask randomly—you wait for the perfect moment, when they’re in a good mood, maybe after they’ve eaten, maybe while they’re relaxed. Then you casually bring it up, like, “Hey… so… my friends were thinking…” and instantly it turns into an interrogation: “Who’s going? Where? Who’s driving? What time? Why?” Why? You don’t even know why. Because you’re a bored teenager itching to see your friends; can’t that be enough? No, it cannot. Even if you somehow get a yes, it comes with conditions. Be back by 8. It’s already 7:15.

That same logic carries over into everything else too. Your phone isn’t really your phone; it’s more like a shared common property. At any moment, a parent can appear and say, “Let me see,” with zero warning. And suddenly you’re nervous for no reason, replaying your entire digital history in your head, wondering if something from three years ago is about to ruin your life. Sleepovers are basically a myth. You ask once, just to test it, and get hit with, “We don’t know their family,” even if you’ve known that friend for a decade.

And then there’s the door. The door is never just a door; it’s apparently a symbol of rebellion. You close it for five seconds and immediately hear, “Why is this closed?” You say, “No reason,” and they respond, “Then open it.” At some point, you just accept it. You sit there doing homework with the door wide open, listening to every conversation in the house, whether you want to or not.

But the strange thing is, you adapt. You get really good at this. You learn when to ask, when to stay quiet, and how to build a convincing argument for something as simple as going to Target. It’s frustrating, and sometimes it feels like they don’t trust you at all. But then there are small moments when they wait up for you to get home, text you to ask if you ate, or remind you to bring a jacket even when you insist you’re not cold. You won’t say anything about it—you’ll probably still act annoyed—but you notice. Still, though, it wouldn’t hurt to let the door stay closed. Just a little.

The funniest part about having strict parents is going to a friend’s house and hearing their parents say, “Just be home later,” like they don’t even care what happens in between. No questions, no timeline, no GPS tracking, just pure trust. Meanwhile, you’re standing there confused, wondering how “later” is an acceptable answer and slightly concerned for their entire family structure.

Hey, if you have strict parents, just remember it’s because they love you, and at least you’re a much better liar because of it.