Heart, Mind and Seoul

Halloween Angst

Presumably like most other homes in this country with young children in its residence, there has been a steady and ever increasing excitement percolating throughout our walls in anticipation for tomorrow's holiday.  Candy!  Classroom parties!  Candy!  Costumes!  Goody bags filled with edible, plastic and even monetary treats from grandparents!  Candy!  Carving pumpkins!  Corn mazes!  Oh, and I did I mention the candy?

I never LOVED Halloween, but I didn't dread or despise it either.  As a kid who never had regular access to sweets, I saw it more as an opportunity to get my hands on the goods that my parents would never dream of buying.  But something about the dressing up part just seemed a bit off to me.  And it didn't help matters when inevitably every year a classmate would remind me that it was too bad that I couldn't dress up in one of the "good" costumes such as Dorothy, Annie or Raggedy Ann because I didn't have the "right" skin color.  Even though I know my parents would have supported my decision to be any one of those characters, I believed my peers.  Who was I to challenge the famous image of a cultural icon or American heroine and suggest that it was okay to go as an Asian version?   Better to be a witch, a cat or an inanimate object.  As one of the few kids of color in my school, I already stood out enough as it was.  Why invite more negative attention to myself by trying to be something that clearly was NOT going to be accepted by most?

I didn't have the right words to describe it back then, but I know I had the feeling - something along the lines of noticing that there was a certain Halloween privilege that was extended to virtually every other kid, except myself.  I know it may sound odd to put it in these terms, but I do honestly remember feeling that Halloween was NOT an equal opportunity celebration.   Whether expressly stated or not, in my mind there were some very real restrictions and conditions on the choices available to me; terms that simply did not exist for my white friends and family members.

This post, written by Thea Lim over at Racialicious does such an effective job of describing the general discomfort that many people of color have about the last day of October.  Even now as a parent, I still have so much ambivalence about seeing my kids embrace this holiday.  I can't help but inwardly brace myself each year when they excitedly announce their costume requests.  Maybe I'm a bad parent that I secretly hope that my daughter won't ask to be a teen pop-singer (and maybe it's even worse that I wouldn't allow her to do it).  Yes, I get the whole appeal of dressing up and I can recognize and appreciate the creativity that goes into this holiday, but something about the whole notion of wanting to be something that you're not - even if only for a day - doesn't sit altogether well with me, particularly when it comes to kids.  Maybe because for me, my struggle in finding and accepting my own real identity - both as an adoptee as well as a person of color - seemed to be exacerbated around this time of year.  Halloween was a time when peers and other kids could CHOOSE to experiment by being different and have fun while enjoying standing out amongst a crowd - but without any of the emotional baggage that occurs when you don't have the option and innate ability to immediately revert back into complete normalcy (at least by society's standards) when the party comes to a close.

Yes, my kids like Halloween.  Yes, they are going trick or treating.  No, I don't think people who love Halloween having unresolved identity issues by any means.  It's not my favorite.  I suppose the holiday is viewed by some as a completely innocuous event all-around, but I guess I'm just still not convinced. 

Protecting My Environment

Who among us hasn't been - at one time or another - on the receiving end of someone else's constant criticisms, put-downs and insinuations that left us feeling that no matter what we did and no matter how hard we tried, that in their eyes, we still came up short.  The kind of person who has you thinking that even if heaven and earth could be moved in their honor, it still would not be enough.  In both my professional and personal lives, I have encountered this type of person and I'm willing to bet you have as well.  And truthfully, I know that in certain situations and with particular individuals, that I have been the offending party who has been all too quick to focus on a flaw and be drawn not to what was accomplished or attempted in earnest, but instead to what I felt could have or should have been done better. 

When I think of the individuals I've come across who seem to have an endless reservoir of nothing but callous critiques and unfavorable personal judgments, I think of how unfortunate it is that their tone and attitude so abruptly eclipses any sort of message they were attempting to convey.  It's unfortunate because any value that could have come from the exchange ceases to exist because of the harshness by which that content was dispensed.  And frankly, both sides end up losing.

As a teacher, I firmly believe that in order for meaningful and relevant learning to truly occur, a student first must feel safe - physically, emotionally and otherwise - in his or her environment.  The world's best lesson plan can be delivered by the most highly esteemed educator in the state, but it will be all for naught if the students do not feel a sense of safety and security in their surroundings.

I've seen this happen repeatedly on adoption blogs, forums and websites.  What first starts out as a civil and mature discussion with various points of views ends up disintegrating into a toxic bloodbath of personal attacks and criticisms that leaves no room for learning, no space to grow and no real chance to benefit from the experiences of others.  I mean how many times have you followed a particular thread or post only for it to end with the comment, "I'm beginning to feel that no matter what, I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't.  I guess nothing I do or say will ever be good enough, so why even bother?"  More doors close and too often, so does the mind.

They say that it's never a good idea to discuss sex, politics or religion in a public space.  Some would argue that adoption - especially international adoption - could be added to that list of controversial subjects.  Depending on who you talk to, discussing the more complex issues within adoption can seem like an exercise in futility, because quite often it's not the issues that get end up getting hashed over, but rather it dissolves into actual people getting raked over.  And really, what good does this do any of us?  I absolutely understand how the intensely personal nature of adoption lends itself to equally intense emotions, but what use is it to tear one another down just for the sake of making a point or being right?  Is it right that the irreconcilable insecurities of some become the burden for the rest of us to bear? 

It's not that I wish to go around seeking like-minded individuals who have only positive affirmations for me and my beliefs.  In fact, it is in the differences of opinions where I often find the biggest opportunity for growth, which I honestly welcome wholeheartedly, at any time.  But it's next to impossible to truly learn from someone and hear what they are trying to say when their message becomes undermined by hostile and venomous methods of delivery.  Attacking someone is the surest way to get a person to stop listening and to eliminate the possibility of any potential learning for everyone involved. 

So at the risk of sounding uber-bossy, if being a part of civilized discussions on this blog doesn't sound like something you can get behind, then please - for all of our sakes - keep on clickin' that mouse 'til you find something that better suits your needs.  Comments are back on, but if you choose to write something that I couldn't say both to my kids and my 85 year-old grandmother, please don't be surprised or disappointed when you don't see it appear on the page.

Or, put much more succinctly by my 7 year-old daughter: "If you can't choose to play nice, then please don't choose to play at all." 

For The Right Reasons

Several years ago, one of my best girlfriends asked me how long I thought she should continue to date her (then) boyfriend.  She liked him well enough, but she just wasn't 100% sure if he was "the one". Given the history with this particular friend, I knew I could afford to be as honest and forthcoming as possible and that she would want and expect nothing less.  Without missing a beat, I responded to her inquiry by asking her a few questions of my own: "Is he bringing out the best in you?  Do you feel like a better person and more like yourself when you're with him?  Does being around him bring you up more than it weighs you down?  If you can't answer 'yes' to all of the above, then you need to ask yourself why."

Turns out they ended up taking a break.  A permanent one to be exact.  And though it may sound silly to compare a real live relationship to my feelings about this blog and its connection to the adoption blog-o-sphere, it's clear to me that my extended absence from writing was directly related to my inability to answer a resounding "yes" to the exact questions stated above.  No longer did I feel that this space was bringing out the very best in me - heck, I couldn't find the motivation or maintain my interest long enough to even visit my own blog, let alone write on it.   I've followed hundreds of blogs over the years to know the ebbs and flows that exist.  But finally I had to ask myself just what it was about this blog that made me look at it and think "I'm just not that into you."

Take my word for it - because to bore you with the details would be just plain cruel - I've conducted a thorough audit of just exactly what this blog means to me, what it has taught me, what it has granted me and how it has led to the kind of personal growth that I could have never envisioned when I first started writing almost 3 years ago.  I've pondered carefully what I genuinely believe to be the best for me and my family and have asked myself as honestly as possible just what it is that I truly seek from this space in which I write.

To that end, I just want to share that I have decided to give this blog another chance - at least for now.  So to my six remaining readers (okay; two if you count my family members) you're in luck!  :) 

Ultimately, I believe in the adoptee voice being represented, present and visible.  Mine is just one that hopes to rejoin the conversation. 

Best,

Paula