The sweet trap called "being a good homemaker"
Late one evening, while scrolling through posts about the recently released TV series "All Her Fault," I came across a wave of intense emotion from thousands of women. They weren't discussing the acting or special effects; they saw themselves in the desperate cries of the female protagonist, played by Dakota Fanning.
In the film, there's a scene where the husband – a good, kind man – tries to comfort his wife with what he considers the sweetest words:"You're amazing. You do everything perfectly."But instead of smiling happily, the wife burst into tears and exclaimed:"I'm tired of being amazing. I don't want to be amazing anymore!"That line of dialogue is like a sharp cut through the warm velvet curtain of modern marriage, exposing a syndrome that Western psychologists call "Default Parenting." And when we reflect on Vietnamese society, we suddenly realize: Could it be that praise for domestic skills is actually an invisible thread tightening its grip on women's breath?
Who is the "default parent"?
You can easily identify the "default parent" in a family, regardless of their income. It's the person the school will call first when their child has a fever at school. It's the person who knows exactly which drawer the vaccination record is in, whether their child's shoe size is too small, and what's left in the refrigerator for dinner. It's the person who, before going on a business trip for several days, prepares every single set of clothes, labels every food container, and constantly worries, "I wonder if Dad will manage at home?"
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In Vietnam, in the vast majority of families, that role is implicitly assigned to the mother. We often mistakenly believe that gender equality means women are allowed to work and earn the same amount of money as their husbands. But sociological studies and real-life experiences reveal a paradox: When women enter society to shoulder economic responsibilities, they still cannot shed the burden of family responsibilities. They become the "CEOs of the home"—the ones who must remember, plan, and coordinate everything. This is not manual labor; it is a "mental burden."
A man's fatigue after work usually ends when he collapses onto the sofa. But a woman's fatigue has no "off" button. An endless list of unnamed tasks constantly runs through her mind, like a background program draining her phone's battery:Tomorrow is my mother-in-law's birthday, so I have to soak beans tonight to make sticky rice for tomorrow morning, my child has upcoming semester exams, and the fabric softener is almost gone…
There's a very common type of man in Vietnam today: the "good" husband. They don't drink alcohol, they come home from work, and they're willing to wash dishes and clean the house for their wives. But they always have one catchphrase:"Just tell me what you need done, and I'll do it for you."
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At first glance, it seems like a valuable act of sharing. But looking deeper, that statement inadvertently pushes the wife into loneliness. When the husband waits for orders, he is positioning himself as a "housemaid" rather than a "partner." Imagine this: When you ask your husband to replace the empty toilet paper roll, he does it immediately. But he will never notice that the storage is completely empty and he needs to buy more. "Replacing the paper" is physical labor (anyone can do it), but "remembering to buy more" is mental labor (usually only the wife does it). When the wife has to think about what to eat tonight, remind her husband to take a shower, tell the children to tidy up their toys, remind her husband to call home... she is managing her own home. And the exhaustion of giving orders, checking, and reminding is sometimes even more terrible than doing it herself. That's why many wives exclaim in helplessness:"Let me do it quickly."And so, the cycle of overcompensation continues.
Stop trying to be "superman"!
In the West, this is called the pressure to be "Amazing." In Vietnam, however, we have a beautiful yet powerful word: "Diligent and capable." From a young age, girls are taught that being resourceful is a measure of happiness. As they grow up, women are praised as "domestic commanders," "keepers of the flame." Society glorifies women who are "three-headed and six-armed," excelling at both earning money and raising children. These compliments are so sweet that many women feel guilty if they happen to be a little lazy, or if they leave the house messy for even a day.
We rarely hear anyone criticize a man for not knowing what grade his child is in – people will shrug and say, "Men handle important matters." But if a child goes to school with an unironed shirt, people will ask, "Where's the mother? Why would she let her child be like this?" This very cultural prejudice has voluntarily but resignedly turned many Vietnamese women into "default mothers." They dare not let go, dare not trust and entrust real responsibility to their husbands, for fear of being judged, for fear of not meeting the standards of a "good wife." However, the more they strive for perfection, the more passive their husbands become, and the gap in understanding between husband and wife widens.
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The message from the film"All Her Fault"The heated discussions on social media recently aren't a declaration of war by women against men. They're a silent cry for help. It's time husbands understood that washing a dish isn't helping their wives, it's doing their own housework. Playing with the children isn't babysitting, it's being a father. True sharing isn't about waiting to be told what to do, but about observing together, remembering together, and sharing the burden of the family's enormous "memory." And more importantly, it's time for women to learn how to refuse compliments about being "capable" if they exhaust them. Learn to say:"I'm tired."Learn to let your husband manage the children on his own, even if he's clumsy and awkward at first, like putting on his shirt inside out or eating instant noodles. Don't rush in to fix things or do it for him. Let him grow in his role as a father and husband, instead of remaining the "big child" at home waiting for his mother to tell him what to do.
Lasting happiness isn't built by a "superwoman" wife who shoulders the weight of the world on her shoulders. It's built by two ordinary people who know their limits, empathize with each other's struggles, and most importantly: know how to mute the noise of worries in their minds to truly rest together. Because ultimately, no one needs a mother who is so perfect that she's exhausted. A family needs a happy mother.


