I grew up in a very conservative Vietnamese family. No sex, living together, holidays or sleepovers with partners before marriage. On the rare occasions when overnight stays were permitted, the boys slept on the couch. Growing up, my sisters and I expected that we'd live with our parents in Sydney's sleepy northwest until we were married. There was a lot of sneaking around.

I unexpectedly moved cities at 23 for work. I had a long-term boyfriend, and when he came to visit every month or so, my mother asked if we slept in the same bed. In those early days, I could picture her wringing her hands as her voice gently shook. Sometimes she cried.

"My phone rang, and I was terrified of what lay on the other end. Mum was crying - but not for the reason I thought." Credit:Stocksy

Eventually, she didn't protest when we said we were going overseas together. She let me go to his family Christmas interstate - something I had been forbidden to do for the first three years of our relationship. Slowly, things were changing.

When I started writing publicly, I was worried about how it would impact my relationship with my parents, especially as I began to openly explore and discuss sex. My father is a prominent figure within the Australian Vietnamese community, so my fear was compounded by my concern that I was reflecting poorly on my family by espousing views I knew would be perceived as unbecoming.