The aroma of oatmeal wafted in the air filling me with a sense of safety. Cheng’s carefully set breakfast table reflected her approach to everything she did—meticulous care, whether it was folding our clothes or making meals.

While many of my peers saw their nannies come and go, Cheng stayed. She became our rock: a constant, reassuring presence, and a stern taskmaster. I am convinced she's the reason I'm alive today. My story is rare: nannies seldom become family, yet Cheng has been with us for nearly 50 years, transitioning from caregiver to cherished grandmother figure in retirement. Some parents can't tolerate their children's attachment to an outside caregiver. In our case, our mother and Cheng formed a team, united in raising three children.

Growing up, many of us heard the maxim "children should be seen and not heard." For many families, this attitude profoundly shapes how children experience love and connection—or its absence.

A narrated essay from The Pressures of Privilege.
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