Heart, Mind and Seoul

So If Your Child Went Missing, What Would You Do?

This story - which at the core stands an innocent 6 year-old girl who has already undergone so much trauma in her short life - is so unbelievably heartbreaking on just about every possible level.  I hurt so much for this young child - who has already been through hell - and who will undoubtedly be subjected to additional imminent pain, suffering and losses of enormous proportions and scars to last a lifetime, regardless of the final outcome.

Clearly, there are details of this story that we as a public will never be privy to and the intricate legalities, the deep corruption and the red tape in both of the represented countries adoption system's is beyond the scope of what I am able to speak to.  What I can say however is how utterly shocking - yet unfortunately not surprising - the reaction is from some of my fellow APs regarding this tragic event.

Overwhelmingly what I have read on the various adoption forums and blogs is the notion that there is NO way on God's green earth would most of these APs allow their adopted children to be permanently returned and reunited with their biological families.

Let me say that again.  There is a large contingent of APs (at least from the sampling of those who have posted to weigh in on the situation) who, if they found out that their adopted child had been kidnapped from their first family, would NOT be willing to allow their (adopted) child to return to his/her first mother and father.  Kidnapped.  As in, against their parent's will.  Abducted, as in wrongfully taken.  Kind of gives a new meaning to the phrase "Gotcha Day", huh?

Putting my snark and obvious frustration and bewilderment aside for just a moment, I do appreciate that these APs are at least asking the fundamental question "What is in the best interest of this little girl?"  Unfortunately, from my perspective, the answers that these APs are offering to that question appear only to have one party's best interest in mind, and it isn't the little girl's or her biological family's.

One AP offered to "pay for a plane ticket" so that the girl's Guatemalan mother could come and visit.  How generous, indeed!  One even said that she'd "allow for the girl's biological family to be in regular contact with the girl".  What an overwhelming gesture of kindness!  One remarked that while she is "sad for the birth mom", she "could NEVER let her daughter go" as losing her daughter "would be the worst nightmare imaginable".  Hmmm.  Irony, much?

The very same APs who declare that they would "fight tooth and nail" and "until the bitter end" to find their child if s/he went missing are in the very next breath saying that they would never allow for a parent of a kidnapped child to rightfully reclaim her son or daughter.  I'm honestly not trying to be dense or purposely combative here, but I just don't understand this line of thinking.  It sounds to me that too many APs want it both ways - they want an outcome that will benefit their own personal situation and one that would cause the least disruption, the least inconvenience and the minimal amount of pain and hardship for them.  Based on what I've read so far, many of these APs feel that they are entitled to this type of decision.  I think this is why I'm having such a visceral reaction to this story - the accompanying unapologetic sense of entitlement that permeates so much of the AP-centric adoption experience and narrative. 

I honestly believe that some of these APs are deluding themselves into thinking that their (adopted) child's well-being would be irreparably compromised if s/he was ripped away from the home that s/he's known for the past several years and remaining with them (the APs) is the only way this child could have a life worth living.  Couldn't the same be said for any child that is removed from his home, regardless of his age?  What really gets me is that nowhere outlined in the proposed "solutions" that I've read about thus far reveal any evidence that the AP would be willing to make any real sacrifice to work towards what really WOULD be in the best interest of their (adopted) child.

Why are none of these APs suggesting that they would fight tooth and nail to do whatever they could to make their child's transition to his rightful family the very best it could be?  Instead of offering a plane ticket to their child's first mother, why not uproot themselves to go live in their child's birth country and BEG, PLEAD and do whatever it takes to see if the first family would be willing to have them a part of their lives? 

Clearly, this story has struck a chord.  I have been doing some deep soul-searching about why I am so upset over the reaction by some of these APs.  (The operative word here being "some" as I know they of course do not represent all APs, including myself and my husband.) The adoptee in me says that I'm pissed off that yet again adoptees are never given a choice in what happens to us when it comes to determining "what's in our best interests".  The adoptee in me is enraged that yet again first families are relegated to being treated as after-thoughts and ancillary roles in an adoptee's life.

I'm angry because I've seen this attitude play out in too many adoptive families before: That what an AP wants forever trumps what an adoptee needs.

Speaking Up, Speaking Out, Moving Forward

Okay, so if you read my previous post, I'm sure it was quite clear that I was ummmm, how shall we say it, just a tad bit pissed off? 

I know I don't really owe anyone an explanation for the atypical rant on my own blog, but this follow-up post serves more as a journal entry for myself to reflect upon my own trajectory of racial consciousness  and how it's evolved over time, especially since becoming a parent, and where I am now and where I envision myself in the future.  More importantly, I want to challenge myself to make sure that my introspection about where I am on this path includes tangible action.  Yes, it's great to talk and no one doubts that I can do that quite well until the cows come home, but I want to take a critical look at how closely aligned my thoughts and feelings are with the actual doing part and make the changes necessary to get them as congruent as I think they should be.  And yes selfishly, I want to be the very best role model for my kids by giving them a mom who not only says she is committed to working towards social justice and being an anti-racist educator, but one who really acts upon those intentions.  I know there are some places this arena where I do very well and others that need improvement.  Talking about this here helps me work that out.

When I was younger, one of the things I remember my parents always telling me is that I should be proud of who I am.  Proud of being an adoptee.  Proud of being a Korean.  Proud to be a "Family surname".  Looking back I have no doubt that in me, my parents saw a beautiful, intelligent and poised young girl who had much to be proud of.  What I'm sure they didn't realize and what I don't think I even realized at the time was how to be proud of those multiple identities, when I wasn't even sure what any of them represented.  How was it possible to be proud of being Korean when I didn't even know what another Korean person looked like, let alone personally knew one?  Yes, it was easy for people to say that I should claim pride in the fact that I was adopted because it made me special, unique and chosen, but what about the part that left the deepest part of my soul feeling empty, unwanted and unworthy?  How was it really possible to reconcile those two feelings in order to find pride?  And being a Johnson? (Not my real last name.)  Well, what did THAT mean exactly?  Yes, legally I was a Johnson.  But most everywhere I went, I was challenged on that part of my identity.  Besides, I may be a Johnson now, but I was also something else before that - so what exactly does make me? 

So here I had all of these questions, these thoughts and feelings about my identity, yet possessed no language to help articulate what it was I was going through.  I had no role models who had gone before me to share her own experiences to let me know that yes, all of these feelings are NORMAL and that I am normal - what I would have given to have heard those words just once in my childhood and adolescence!  And despite parents who were progressive and harbored only the best of intentions, I felt that any real opportunity to have critical, open conversations with my parents to help process it all simply did not exist - not necessarily for their lack of trying, but honestly, what did they know about being a Korean-adoptee who was part Johnson, part not?   What did either of my parents know about trying to find the balance just to stay upright on that proverbial saddle?  What did they think it meant when they'd insist that I "Just be myself", not realizing the Herculean effort it took on my part to carry and manage every aspect of the many identities that inhabited my heart, my mind and my soul and that I didn't know who myself even was.

Obviously, being raised in a white family, in an all white environment no doubt influenced my own behaviors, thoughts and attitudes about race.  I have read and heard countless personal narratives of fellow transracial and transcultural adoptees whose racial identity awareness mirrors my own. 

Am I white?  Am I not?  I feel white, but I'm not treated as white.  I am fully immersed in white culture (yes, white people do possess a culture), but am constantly asked by others to prove why and how I can inhabit such a culture when it's clear that when all is said and done, that it's not where I reallybelong.  And when I leave the insulated family and community environment where I've finally negotiated some understanding between myself and others of my honorary white status, BAM! it's off to college, or work or the REAL WORLD where I'm back at square one of having to figure out just who the heck I am.  And so it begins once again.  Am I white, because I still feel like I'm white - just like I have all along, but damn, that is NOT the reaction I'm getting out here.  What?  People think that I'm like all those other Asians?   What does that mean exactly and why am I so uncomfortable around people who look like me?  (That's a little messed up, isn't it?)  So just where do I belong?  What exactly am I?  I identify as one thing, am perceived and treated as another and I have no freakin' idea about how to navigate through all of the baggage that people are putting on me just because of what I look like.  But I'm adopted - I'm from a white family.  I don't know and haven't been taught any differently.  You don't care?  But I'm trying to explain who I am.  Huh?  I am so confused.  I don't know who the hell I am anymore.

And though I'm not trying to diminish the first few decades of my life into the condensed internal dialog above, I do think it offers an accurate glimpse into the kind of struggles I've had over the years to find my own identity. 

And so here I am, almost 40 years old and I can say without exception that I am a proud and confident Asian woman.  But it took a while - and a lot - to get here.  And it's not that I'm angry at my parents per se for what they did or didn't do in regards to giving me the resources to help me claim that pride earlier in my life, but I am angry at the mindset of a country that doesn't place a high enough regard - not even close - on the value and importance of raising children of color.  I'm upset and disappointed that the only advice my parents received from their agency was "Take her home and love her as if she was your own.  Don't focus on the differences and don't worry, because love will be enough." 

And I become frustrated when I see and hear some white adoptive parents who still believe that that advice is sufficient enough for today.  That somehow we've come so far in this so called post-racialized America that white people raising children of color isn't that big of a deal and that focusing on the human race is indeed the direction we should all be aspiring towards.  And I just have to put this out there - what really DOES upset me is the delusional mentality held by too many white adoptive parents of Asian-born children that being Asian is interchangeable with being white.  I am here to tell you that it is a grave misunderstanding and huge detriment to think that an Asian child can/will/has assimilated so well into the white world that his Asian identity takes a backseat to what you think he is: your white son.  I know this doesn't apply to many of you reading, so please don't laugh - I hear it all of the time from APs of Asian-born children how they don't see their child as being anything other that their own flesh and blood (read: white) kid.  We've come a long way and thank God there is a growing contingent of APs who realize how truly significant the responsibility it is to raise a child of color in this country, but there is still much to be done in terms of educating others - and just not white APs - about why race DOES INDEED MATTER and why we need to be teaching our kids everything that some of us may not have been taught in regards to the history of race and the way to truly talk about race in a way that moves us forward. 

I had the privilege of attending Pact Camp a few weeks ago and I cannot tell you how inspired and encouraged I was by the commitment and intentionality that so many of these parents possessed in doing whatever they could to be the very best advocates for their adopted children of color.  I am going through a bit of a culture shock myself after leaving that environment where parents were so actively engaged in the struggles that their children are facing - many parents who were more than willing to stand in solidarity with their kids to help carry extraordinarily heavy burden that often comes with being an adoptee of color.  Since my return into the "real world" I've faced more than a few racist  and ignorant comments, many coming from white APs themselves.  But you know what?  I'm not concerned about myself - I'm a grown adult and I feel pretty confident in my ability to stand up to these people who think they can throw their privilege around.  What I am concerned about is all kids who are witness to these kinds of acts - but especially kids of color - - and especially kids of color who are being raised by parents who have not or will not do the hard work necessary to really become the ally that their kid needs.  Dr. John Raible and Jae Ran Kim of Harlow's Monkey speak so powerfully to the importance of being an ally and what exactly that means.  If I may be so bold to join their efforts - I too, would like to put out a call to white parents who are raising children of color to truly learn what it takes to be an ally and how to be an active one in your daily life and in your family's life. 

Another often repeated refrain used by my parents was that they just wanted to give me and my brothers a better life than what they had growing up - to learn from their mistakes and to have things just be a little easier than how they had it.  I know not every adoptee of color is going to go through what I did - and believe me, I would be the last person to ever presume so.  I know my son, also a Korean adoptee, will have his own road to travel - some experiences might be the same, but many will not.  I acknowledge and accept that and am doing what I believe is necessary to best prepare him for all of those experiences that I can anticipate he will have.  I also recognize that is incumbent upon me to provide my bi-racial daughter with every resource that I can to help grow and strengthen her own sense of self and identity - one which I cannot identify with personally and therefore am deficient in my ability to do it on my own. 

Sometimes - okay many times - it can be really exhausting, trying and frustrating to feel that it's my job to teach and share with white people my experiences of what it's like to grow up as an adopted person of color.  And I know that no one can make me do anything that I don't really want to do, but I say that because when I don't speak up about my experiences, I find that people will insert their own perceptions of what they believe my reality to be.  And so I feel it's necessary to speak up and to speak out - to be my own voice and best advocate to fight for what I think is right.  And yes, on some level I absolutely do it for myself and my own kids, but mostly it's for my fellow adoptees - especially the younger generation.  Maybe one day they will read my blog and know that they are not alone and perfectly normal for what they're feeling.  Or maybe their mom or dad will stumble upon this and find something here that propels them to learn more about being a parent to an adopted child of color.

I have to remind myself that sometimes it's good to get pissed off - it makes me evaluate where that source of passion is coming from and how to best channel it to affect what I believe is a positive change in my family's life and for those around me.   After all, we're always in constant motion on this trip called life and what better direction to be going than to be moving ahead.

Where Do You Stand?

Please choose "a" or "b" in response to the following questions: 

1. You are looking to lose a little weight and decide to join a weight-loss program. Which person would you rather have as your weight-loss mentor/leader/supporter?

a. Someone who can personally identify with your own weight management struggles and has walked much of the same walk you have.

b. Someone who wears a size "00" jeans, can eat whatever she wants without exercising and complains that she wishes she could learn how to gain weight as easily as you seem to do.

2. You are interviewing a nanny to provide full-time care for your child(ren).  Who would you rather employ?

a.  An experienced mother who has raised 3 children.

b.  A high-school drop-out because she is both available to start immediately and incredibly affordable.

3.  You and your partner are looking into adoption.  You will learn more from:

a.  Other couples who have already adopted.

b.  Someone who saw the movie "Juno" and loved it so much that she ended up buying the DVD.

4.  You prefer that your child's teacher tell you:

a.  Only the good things that your child has done in class.

b.  The good, the bad and the ugly.

4.  Who do you consider to be more of an adoption expert?

a.  A non-adopted person who has published a book on what it's like to be an adoptee.

b.  An adoptee.

5.  Your neighbor asks your son if he likes being adopted. Your son declines to engage.  Your neighbor scolds your child by saying "Well, aren't you a selfish, ungrateful little brat."  You:

a.  Agree with your neighbor.  At this age, your child is more than capable of articulating his feelings of gratitude about being adopted.

b.  Defend your son and have some choice words with your neighbor.

6.  Who would you rather hear speak about racism in the workplace?

a.  Your CEO who happens to be a white male.

b.  Your colleague who is a woman of color.

7.  Who do you think your trans-racially adopted child would rather hear speak about racism in the school system?

a.  His superintendent who happens to be a white male.

b.  His classmates of color.

8.  With whom do you think an adopted child of color is more likely to identify?

a.  A non-adopted, white peer.

b.  A fellow adoptee of color.

9.  When your daughter becomes an adult, who would you like to see represent her voice and experiences?

a.  People who think they know what's best for her.

b.  Your daughter.

10.  Adoptees voices are valuable, necessary and useful:

a.  Only when they agree with the overall adoption messages that you think should be promoted.

b.  Yes.

*This quiz was inspired by the person who recently told me that adoptees are neither experts nor professionals in the field of adoption and that the real reason why white adoptive parents have the most power is because "Let's face it - their voices are the only ones that really matter."

 

The Act of Giving Back: Should More Women Be Placing Their Children?

You are an adoptive parent to 3 beautiful children.  Unexpectedly, you find out that you are pregnant - something you and your partner never thought possible.  A flurry of mixed emotions overcome you.  You're not exactly old, but it's true that you are indeed older.  You immediately think of the impact it will have on your family financially, physically and emotionally.  You think about how your husband has told you time and time again how excited he is knowing that your family is complete and how free he feels to finally be out of the diaper, bottle and toddler stages.  You've already sold and given away every last piece of baby furniture you had.  But on the other hand, well, on the other hand - you have a baby inside of you.  You are pregnant with a child.  YOUR child.  Your husband's child.  You are going to give birth.  It's something you didn't think could happen to you, but it did and it's a dream come true.  Ultimately, above the intense and raw emotions that are swirling around your head, you are thrilled beyond measure and feel immensely blessed for a miracle of this magnitude to have been bestowed upon you and your family. 

After ample time to celebrate and digest this news privately, you and your partner are anxious to start spreading the word to your family.  Aside from your spouse, the person you are most excited to share the announcement with is your sister.  She is your rock, your confidant and your very best friend.  After telling her the news of your pregnancy, her eyes light up brighter than you've ever seen before.  She responds slowly and hopefully:  "Sis, I have the best idea.  Why don't you make an adoption plan for this baby?  One of my dearest friends from college has been trying to get pregnant for the past 5 years and they can't afford to try anymore.  She and her husband would make the most magnificent parents and they want a baby more than any couple I know.  You would be doing SUCH a good thing.  I mean, you already have 3 children and it's not like you were even planning on this one or trying for another kid.  You've said so many times yourself how you'd never want to go back to having an infant.  Think it over, okay?  But just remember back to all those years ago how much you wanted a child and then think of my friend and her husband.  They want what you have and you are in the position to make their dreams come true.  You'd be doing such an amazing thing, sis; you'd be doing the right thing.  I know it might be hard, but try not to think of how it would impact you, but rather what it could do for them.  I mean they really, really, REALLY want a baby, sis.  You have the power to change this couple's life forever and to give this child to parents who would love it just as much as you would.  Heck - they might even love it more!!  It's such an incredible opportunity for all of you, don't you think?  Just promise me you'll think about it, okay?  It really is an amazing thing that you can do - for yourself, for them and for your baby."

After much thought, prayer and careful consideration, you and your husband decide that yes, it is mutually beneficial to both your baby and your sister's friends to be a family together.  You know this baby will never lack for love or anything else and you tell yourself that this couple deserves a chance at parenthood, just like you had.  You've made your decision and you're convinced that you're doing the very best thing for everyone involved.

* * * *

I'd be willing to bet that most adoptees - at one point in time throughout their lives -  have heard something to the effect of "Your birth mom was such a brave and selfless woman to give you up for a better life. . .to think that she loved you so much that she gave you away. . .there truly cannot be a more selfless and powerful act of love than to do what your biological mother did for you."

Hmmmmm.  O-kaaay.  So, if my Korean mother was brave and selfless and demonstrated the epitome of love for giving me up, why wouldn't we encourage and support our own sisters and friends to do the same with their own children?  Why wouldn't we do it ourselves if we could?  Who wouldn't want to be known as one who committed the most altruistic of acts, one who put others' needs before her own, one who made the ultimate of sacrifices?  These women are known as amazing, heroic and responsible for literally giving other women God's greatest blessings - children.  So why aren't more of us doing the same and paying it forward?  We'd be doing good for others and as well as for our kids.  We Americans are always trying to keep up with those elusive Jones' who seem to have so much more than we do.  Surely there are countless families who could offer our kids a far "better" life than we ever could.  Think of what we're depriving our kids from.  Keeping our children to ourselves when they could clearly have so much more seems rather selfish, doesn't it?

Somehow, I think that most people reading this blog - if they found themselves with an unexpected and even unwanted pregnancy - would not at all appreciate the suggestion from someone else that they should place their child. But what about the chance to be noble?  To do the right thing?  To fulfill the dreams and hopes of another couple by giving them a family that they cannot have on their own?  What is preventing us from doing the one thing that we ask first mothers to do before we swiftly send them off into the sunset all whilst lauding their brave and selfless acts?

And really, when it comes right down to it, isn't the above scenario amongst the best of circumstances in which a woman makes a decision to place a child?  When a woman and her partner have the time, resources and support to make an informed decision?  When a woman actually has a chance to assert her voice and can honestly feel and know in her heart that she was the one who made that choice of her own free will? 

So why do so many people casually accept (and perhaps even secretly celebrate) it as fate, good karma, a higher power at force, destiny, luck, etc. when a woman who is without a true, just selection of choice or is told that the only real choice she has is to place her child, and believe this to be perfectly acceptable so long as it benefits our agenda?  Our plans.  Our lifelong hopes and childhood dreams.  Why is okay for other women to find themselves in a position to have to make arguably the most God-awful and heart-wrenching, hellish choice or worse - to find themselves WITHOUT choice - when it suits us or those we love?  And why aren't more of us or more of those we love willing to make the same kinds of sacrifices that we expect, assume, hope and accept that other women will do?

Please let me be clear. I am not trying to make adoptive parents feel guilty, ashamed or regret over their decision to adopt.  I myself, along with my husband, made the very conscious and intentional decision to adopt our son and I know that we personally did not cause or create the circumstances behind our son's relinquishment.  However, that being said, I absolutely accept responsibility for my role in the collective mindset that this society too often has about portraying first moms in the image that we want them to be, so long that it suits the needs of those who feel that they deserve to be parents, too.  People might not come out directly and say, "Thank God there are women out there who cannot parent their own kids, because without that, I'd never be a mom", but instead we might hear a more policially correct spin ala "I know that the world is an imperfect place.  But it is what it is.  Should we just let these poor kids starve and die in orphanages?   They need a family and we want a child.  Adoption is the very best solution for everyone." 

And so while we may not exactly be rejoicing in the fact that children are available for adoption, we're certainly not doing anything to prevent it from happening here or in other countries; well, at least not until we're able to adopt ourselves.

Maybe at the heart of the issue is the belief amongst many that as long as we love adopted kids "as our own" and promise to do our very best by them and to give them the world and have them not want for anything, that it's somehow okay to keep averting our eyes away from the cultural, socio-economic, political, societal and religious reasons that we cite to help justify to ourselves why it's "unavoidable" that women are continuously forced or asked to give up their children.  

We'd never dream of asking our neighbor, our best friend or a colleague to give us their baby, but think nothing of it to ask a distant, faceless woman to give us hers. It feels wrong to say that we'd never dream to make that kind of sacrifice for someone else but that we're oh so grateful that someone else could do it for us.

Yes, it's absolutely an imperfect world.  But adoption isn't the perfect answer - even if we believe it is our perfect answer.

Unwanted Until Proven Good Enough To Have

A conversation I had a few days ago with one of my daughter's friends reminded me how far we still have to go in deconstructing the negative association that so many people have about kids who are adopted.  The recent conversation with this particular 10 year-old boy pretty much mirrored the several dozen other discussions I've had with children about adoption.  Sure, there is always a little variation on the words and how things are phrased, but the overall message is essentially the same.  First - a little background about the impetus of this particular conversation, just in case people are wondering if I go around grilling random kids about adoption.  My daughter's friend, let's call him Sam, knows that my son and I are both adopted, and he asked me some very pointed questions about my "real" mom and dad.  Before I addressed his questions, I first asked Sam for his definition of adoption.  I often do this whenever I'm talking to kids about adoption in an attempt to gauge where the child's level of understanding is about the concept.  Here was Sam's reply when I asked him what he thought it meant to be adopted:

"Well, being adopted is when the kids that nobody wants are put into an orphanage and then if the kid is really good, someone rich will pick them and buy them to have in their family."

Now, to be sure, whenever I hear someone talk about a child being bought, I cringe.  And yet Sam's understanding of adoption was so familiar to me - including the part of a child being available for purchase.   His succinct albeit limited understanding of adoption was wholly consistent with virtually every other conversation I've had with kids about adoption.  In fact, based on my own personal experiences, the recurring themes that that eventually emerge from just about any adoption conversation I've had with a child between the ages of 4-16 are the following:

Adopted Children:

1) Are unwanted

2) Can become more desirable when they exhibit good behavior, i.e. being the perfect child

3) Are thought of as a commodity; they are a good that is exchanged in a transaction typically received by someone considered rich or well-to-do

4) Are disposable; their permanence in their adoptive family is always conditional

5) Deserve pity, because they are the kids who no one wants

I realize the conversations that I've had with Sam and the many, many other kids I've talked to about adoption does not provide any scientific proof that all or even most kids feel the same way they do about children who are adopted.  But nonetheless, I still find it incredibly disturbing and hurtful that my young son and other young adoptees are still being perceived by so many of their peers as unwanted, unlovable and unworthy.  Too many adoptees from my own generation, including myself, have fought a relentless internal war against the societal messages that have had us second-guessing our self-worth.  It's one thing to take a critical look at adoption as a whole, but it's quite another to be so critical of the one who truly is without any power, choice or voice.  Sam and the other kids I've talked to don't just get their working definitions about adoption out of thin air; clearly they've been ingesting, processing and retaining messages from someone, somewhere and presumably from a multitude of sources.

And so the question I have is this: How can we talk about adoption in such a way that makes an unequivocal separation between the circumstances surrounding the act of adoption (regardless of what they are) and the perceived value of the adoptee?  How do we go about challenging - and thereby hopefully changing - the way we talk about adoption so that the word adoptee is no longer synonymous with unwanted, damaged goods and the leftovers that people are forced to take?  Now I realize that yes, there exists a contingent of children who tragically do fall into the true "unwanted" category, far more than my heart can comprehend, but I refuse to believe that all children available for adoption are deemed in their families' eyes as unwanted and easily disposable.

Let's compare the perception of children of a divorce versus children who are adopted.  From where I stand, a fair number of people do not conflate the decision that two adults make to get divorced with the value of the child(ren) affected by the divorce.  Regardless of the circumstances, I'm led to believe that many children of divorce as well as children who are adopted are quite susceptible to internalizing the same kinds of messages as a result of their life-altering events: that pervasive, internal soundtrack that rotates amongst the tracks of "If only I could have been better, this wouldn't have happened", "I know on some level that it's my fault for what took place", "If only I could have been more lovable, I might have prevented this", "I'll be perfect in every way so that I won't get left again", "If I can accomplish x, y or z, it will show them that I'm worthy enough of their love", "If I can just keep these walls up, I won't ever have to hurt like that again", or "Who needs them anyway?  I'll show them I'm strong enough to survive on my own."

I'm not trying to play the "Who suffers more" game between children of divorce and children who are adopted.  What I am trying to illustrate is that I bet if you asked a handful of kids to define divorce and then to define adoption, the former answer would emphasize the role of the parents (i.e., "Divorce is when two people don't want to be married anymore") versus the implied negative connotation against the child in the latter (i.e. "Adoption is when the unwanted kids get new families").  It seems that we as a society talk about divorce in a way that protects and keeps the children as they should be in this circumstance: innocent and absolved from any responsibility.  And yet, so many people talk about adoption as something that ends up implicating the child as the unwanted and burdensome toll that needs to be removed in order for the original parents to "move on" with their lives.

The suppressed yet omnipresent shame that many adoptees can feel at various times in their lives can manifest itself in emotionally and mentally exhaustive ways.  It's a shame that I can only describe as a war of Head v. Heart.  As I've said on this blog numerous times before, as a young child, teenager and young adult, intellectually my mind knew that I was not responsible for being in a position of having to be placed for adoption, but my heart was so inexplicably heavy with guilt, shame and a complete sense of responsibility that somehow, someway I must have been so unwanted and so much of a burden to my parents, because otherwise - how could they ever, ever let me go? 

I've come so far in processing my adoption and truly attaining a measure of peace and acceptance for who I am.  I like to think it would have been just a bit easier and a more expeditious journey of shedding those layers of shame if so many people hadn't harbored and communicated to me their interpretations of adoptees as unwanted, easily discarded goods for the unfortunate people who couldn't have children "of their own". 

Who knows if Sam will think any differently about adoption after our little talk.  I can't control what he or anyone else thinks about kids who are adopted, but I can continue to speak up on behalf of my son and myself and say with absolute certainty that no, we are not unwanted.

Material Girl is Denied Lucky Star Treatment

"This is a triumph for the children of Malawi," said Mavuto Bamusi, the national coordinator of Malawi Human Rights Consultative Committee.

"Inter-country adoption is not the best way of providing protection to children ... they should grow up in familiar cultural and religious surroundings," Bamusi said, adding that "supporting children from outside our country only helps five of the 1.5 million orphans we have."

Read the full article here:

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I realize that this ruling is going to infuriate a huge number of people, namely adoptive parents and/or prospective adoptive parents.  I've already read through various comments about this story in different media outlets and the themes are oh-so familiar:  Why deprive this child from all of the opportunities she'd never get in her home country?  This rule (the residency requirement) is absurd.  All this judge is doing is hurting these kids' chances of having a real family.  What's the big deal anyway about having to leave your country of birth? 

My thoughts?  Why can't - or more importantly - why won't Madge fulfill the residency requirement?  I don't exactly believe it's because of a lack of funds or resources.  And wouldn't it be an incredible opportunity for her son David to emotionally and physically reconnect to his biological father and birth country in a way that no phone call, book, picture or video could ever could begin to provide? 

I suspect it's because it's too much of a burden, too much of an inconvenience to her lifestyle.  Of course I cannot say this as fact and unless M. herself chooses to reveal the real reason for not fulfilling the residency requirement, we'll never know the full truth. 

All I'm saying is that this situation (on the surface and from the details that have been given to the public thus far) appears to be yet another example in a long line of instances where the PAP chooses to put his/her own best interests ahead of the child's.  Why should the onus always land squarely on the child to be the one to adjust, uproot and incur the trauma of a sudden movement away from everything s/he has ever known, simply because it just doesn't fit nicely into the PAP's plans of how they think things should work out?

My husband and I are not above this criticism either.  Truth be told, my husband initially had reservations about traveling.  Our agency offered both a travel and an escort option and my husband was very seriously considering the latter.  After much discussion between the two of us, we both were of the same mind that traveling was really the only option, not because it would be a fun, cool trip and a chance for us to travel, but because at the end of the day, it was what we believed to be the absolute best for our son. 

When we ended up traveling, we stayed only a week in Seoul.  Part of me likes to think that if we were able to have physical custody of our son for an extended period of time before leaving the country, that we would have stayed in Korea longer to aid with his transition.  But I can tell you this, if Korea's rules had explicitly stated that we needed to live in the country for a specific amount of time before or after receiving our son and we could not do it - we certainly would not have asked for preferential treatment or special exceptions to be made simply because we couldn't  - or didn't want to - do it. 

Think about it.  When I was pregnant with our daughter, I spent several weeks on strict bed rest before her delivery.  Per doctor's orders, my bathroom breaks and shower combined could not exceed 45 minutes a day.   My doctor said that if I didn't think I could abide by this, that I'd be spending the next several weeks in a hospital bed.  So strict bed rest at home it was.  Yes, I lost out on that income from not being able to work.  Yes, it put additional duties and stress on my husband and our extended family to help me with the things I could no longer do.  Yes, it was a huge adjustment.  But you know what?  I did it because it was what was best for our daughter.  There wasn't even a choice in the matter.

And yet it when it comes to the overall welfare of an adopted child, the standards for "what is best" too often becomes, "what is good enough".  And too many times, the actions of APs/PAPs becomes justified by what this child is "getting in return".

How many times have we heard "Adopted children deserve to be treated just as well as bio children?"

If parents really mean it when they say, "I would do anything for my child", then hopefully this applies to adopted children as well. 

Affecting More Than Just One

A friend of mine recently told me about her sister and brother-in-law's plans to adopt.  They have officially signed on with an agency and are pursuing international adoption.  My friend asked me if it would be okay if she gave her sister my contact information in case her sister and brother-in-law would like to talk to me about my own experiences.  I obliged and just assumed that their questions would be regarding my experiences as an adoptee.  My friend continued.

"My sister is really interested in what the time line was for your son's adoption and how much you spent in total.  She also wanted to see if you had any suggestions on how to raise an adopted child, especially one from a different country.  You know, she wasn't even really interested in international adoption at all, but did you know that in some states, a birth mom can actually change her mind and decide to KEEP her baby if she wants?  Even after she's already promised to give the baby up?  Once my sister and her husband heard that, they were like "no freakin' way" and started looking into international adoption.  I mean, at least with a foreign country you know you're not going to get a call saying, 'Can I have my baby back?'  Can you IMAGINE?!"

To be honest, I had kind of tuned out at this point.  I consider myself no expert at parenting, and that includes parenting a child who is adopted.  But as many other adoptees have said before, I do consider myself an expert in my own life as an adoptee - what I know to be true, what I have experienced and how it has affected me.  But in this situation, as has happened on many occasions before, my 37 years of experience as an adoptee was a mere afterthought to my 4 years of experience as an adoptive parent.

I just thought that it was very telling that in this situation, once again, the general focus of interest about adoption seemed to revolve around the adoptive parent.  The soon-to-be adopted child wasn't even mentioned by my friend and the first mother was almost portrayed as a non-factor in the whole process - just someone who would provide the child and hopefully never show her face again.

I realize that it is not my friend who is adopting and that it may or may not have been warranted for me to tell her (non-aggressively, but very honestly) what I thought of her sister and brother-in-law's approach to adoption, especially international adoption.  Who knows how much she'll relay back to her sister and brother-in-law.

Hopefully her sister will call me.  I can't speak for any other adoptee or adoptive parent other than myself, but at the risk of sounding a bit pompous, I honestly think it would behoove anyone in the adoption process to hear different perspectives of the adoption experience - not just the ones that are generally believed without question.  And not just from the perspective of adoptive parents.

I Am Not The Enemy

Perhaps you have two children, both of whom are adopted.  Your son is - and always has been - much more vocal than your daughter about expressing himself when it comes to various questions, thoughts, feelings, fears, dreams and any other ruminations he has about his own adoption and how he feels to what degree adoption does or doesn't affect him.  Many times he will approach you or your significant other unprompted with questions or observations about adoption.  Based on what you've witnessed throughout his lifetime, you deduce that his comfort level about anything and everything adoption related appears very high indeed. 

Your daughter on the other hand is far more reserved and private.  She speaks very little, if anything at all, about her feelings regarding her adoption.  She may speak in generalities about adoption and talk matter-of-factly with others about her own adoption history, but rarely, if ever, will she express anything remotely to what one might characterize as deep, meditative or personal about how she feels about being adopted.  When trying to engage her in different conversations about adoption, you're met with a polite but firm response that indicates she'd just rather not talk about it.  You don't doubt that she definitely has her own opinions about what adoption personally means to her, but as far as you know, she simply does not feel comfortable discussing any facet of her life as an adoptee. 

Two children, raised in the same household, yet with two very different approaches to how each chooses to process and handle their own thoughts and feelings about adoption.

Your parents happen to notice the differences in their grandchildren as well.  Statements like "We're so happy to see how open and engaged Bobby is about his adoption.  Surely it must indicate what a great job you've done with him and how well adjusted he is as a person.  It's great to know adoption has had no adverse affect on him whatsoever."  And other statements including "We're a bit concerned about the way Mary doesn't seem to embrace adoption the way her brother has.  Now be honest with us, what are you doing differently with her than you did with Bobby?  There must be some hidden reason why she doesn't act the same way that Bobby does.  She just doesn't seem normal.  Maybe she has psychological problems?"  Then your parents suggest that Bobby could possibly teach Mary how to become more like him; perhaps he could demonstrate for her some of the more "typical" and more "acceptable" behaviors on what it really means to be a more well-rounded and well-adjusted adoptee.  After all, it's making your parents just a little uncomfortable that their granddaughter won't open up more about her innermost thoughts regarding her adoption.  "Why can't she just be more like Bobby?" they wonder.

Hopefully most parents recognize just how unfair, how presumptuous, how inappropriate and how potentially damaging and hurtful it is to compare their children in this regard.  And yet, so often I hear and read about adoptees being compared in a manner not unlike the example of the fictitious family above.

I will be honest.  One of the most hurtful and judgmental emails that I have ever received was from a fellow Korean adoptee.  Though it's not exactly fun receiving unpleasant emails from adoptive parents, at least I can distance myself from taking it 100% personally.  But man, hearing a fellow adoptee tell you that you're living your life in a manner that is harmful to both yourself and your family, well, damn - that just plain hurts.  It took a while for the pain and anger to subside from what this person had said, but ultimately, for my own inner peace, I just had to agree to disagree.  This person's opinions were theirs and theirs alone, just as mine belong to me.  Granted, they didn't have to make such personal attacks on me and my family, but for my own well being, I needed to focus on my truths and my experiences and have faith that they could - and would - stand on their own, regardless of who was challenging them and regardless of what they were saying.

I have my own personal theories on why adoptees sometimes feel the need to judge their own and one theory I have is that I believe that the adoption community at large has all but set up a playing field that practically hands out personal invitations to adoptees to go fisticuffs with one another.  A field that labels us, aims to categorize us and often times divides us.  An arena that often times diminishes our experiences and our truths into neat and tidy compartments with no latitude for any change, lest we be harshly judged.  To frame our lives in such a way that we're nothing more than an experiment on how to raise an adopted child and that if we fall outside the parameters of a happy, adjusted, grateful and pleasing adoptee, then someone, somewhere, somehow screwed up big time.

It's true.  Some adoptees will have nothing more in common than the fact that they are adopted.  They can both be Korean adoptees, raised in the same state, can have attended the same school and even have the same adoptive parents and they can have absolutely nothing in common.  But in my opinion, one is not less worthy, less deserving, less desirable or less of a person than the other simply because of how they choose to life out their life as an adoptee. 

And neither should they be treated as such.

No. . .They Can't

http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/wireStory?id=6195270

I have so much more to say about this, but need some additional time to gather, process and articulate my related thoughts in a rational and coherent manner. 

Until then, I'm pondering a couple of questions:

Now that Arkansas has passed a ban prohibiting single people from fostering or adopting children, can one deduce that it will only be a matter of time that a heterosexual-parent couple who decides to get divorced will be in danger of losing their children to the state?  Or how about a married person who loses his or her spouse because of death?  Will that newlyfound single parent suddenly be found incapable, unfit and a poor alternative for their child(ren) simply because the child(ren) are no longer being parented by two people who happen to be married?

Don't be ridiculous, you say?  Hmmmmm.  Those are my thoughts exactly about this and the other discriminatory and unjust bans that passed Tuesday in this great country of ours.

It's Okay to Say "I'm Sorry" in Adoption

A few years ago, friends of ours lost their pup after she wandered away from home and was struck by a car.  Their youngest son, S., who was five at the time, told me about the fatal accident the next time I saw him and his family in person.  "Oh, S., honey," I said.  "I'm so sorry."  His blue eyes looked back at me bewildered and distraught.  "Why are you sorry?" he said innocently, yet ever so inquisitively.  "Are you the one who killed my dog?"

The words "I'm sorry".  They're such little words that can mean so much.  The very phrase holds such potential to transform, influence and affect - both for the one delivering the words as well as the recipient.  Many may think it to be rather odd - or even downright ridiculous - that I suggest that the phrase should be present in the dialogue when talking to our children about their adoption.  Perhaps some are sensitive to the possibility that uttering those words may cause their child to misinterpret the expression as an admission of guilt or wrong-doing on their part, not unlike how S. initially perceived my expression of condolences on the loss of his puppy.  Certainly no parent wants to be blamed for adopting their child, they think. 

Others may strongly contend that there is nothing about their child's adoption that warrants saying "I'm sorry" because in adoption, there is nothing to be sorry about.  They may reason that we adoptive parents have been granted arguably one of the biggest blessings in our lives through adoption - how could anyone feel sorry, or be sorry for that?

To be clear, I am certainly not insinuating that we say to our children, "Gee, I'm really sorry that I adopted you" or "I'm so sorry that you had to be adopted into our family". 

What I'm trying to convey is that I feel strongly that there needs to be more of an acknowledgment about the losses in adoption - certainly by society as a whole - but especially by us, the adoptive parents, that imparts the message to our children that it is perfectly normal, absolutely acceptable and well within their rights to be sad, hurt, confused, angry or feel any other emotion that an adopted child may experience about his or her adoption. . .to let our kids know that we know that adoption is not entirely the win-win situation that some would like us to believe.

I think it's a natural tendency for many adoptive parents to focus on the actions and the verbiage that supports the mantra "Celebrate Adoption".  We enthusiastically share the journey with our little one of how he came to be part of his new family.  We pour over pictures, life books and adoption mementos with unbridled joy, immeasurable pride and overwhelming gratitude.  We plan parties to mark significant days in the adoption process.  We gush onward to our friends, family, colleagues and even complete strangers about how happy, how fulfilled, how joyous, how complete our lives are now that our child has joined our families.  As we should.  Our children deserve to know from us - often and sincerely - how much they are loved and how happy and grateful we are that we have the honor of being their parents.  I'm definitely not saying that focusing on the positives or gains in adoption is wrong, evil or something that we ought not to do.  What I am saying is that I believe there needs to be some balance in our representation of adoption in the form of honest, genuine acknowledgment from us that not all aspects of adoption are to be celebrated, heralded and promoted as a blessing and miracle for everyone involved.

Based on the many personal interactions I have had with other adoptive parents, both in person and via email, as well from my observations and readings on a multitude of adoption blogs and forums, I feel confident in saying that one area that I've noticed that many APs feel especially vulnerable and ill-equipped in is their ability to have truly honest, heart-to-heart conversations with their children about the losses in adoption.  Yes, these parents realize their children have incurred great loss, and they are able to acknowledge these losses with other adults, but several of them are downright uncomfortable and even scared of having to talk to their child about the truthful and often times painful circumstances surrounding their son or daughter's placement for adoption.

As an adoptee, I'm heartened to know that so many APs do have the capacity to recognize and acknowledge the losses in adoption, because unfortunately, I still encounter my fair share of people who refuse to concede that there are any tangible or significant losses in adoption and that adoption is an act that serves only the best interests of first parents, adoptees and adoptive parents alike. 

And as an adoptive parent, I can relate to the trepidation and anxiety these parents feel about having to talk to their children about the losses in adoption.  As a mother, I can honestly say that there is no greater question that has brought me to my knees more quickly in both pain and sadness than to hear our son say, "Mommy, why can't my Korean mommy be with me, too?" 

And just because our son hasn't yet verbally expressed such questions as "Doesn't my Korean mommy love me?  Did I do something to make her leave?  Why couldn't she keep me?" doesn't mean he isn't thinking about them or might think about them one day in the future.  And though responses such as "Don't worry about that, sweetie; what matters now is that your with your forever family" or "Let's just focus on the fact that you're here with us now, right where you should be" and "Don't concern yourself with the past - just remember how much we love you and how we were meant to be together" (all of which I have heard other APs say) are certainly easier to deliver, they may also inadvertently relay the message of "If you can't think of only positive things about your adoption, then don't think anything at all".

Loss is inherent in adoption.  It just is.  Not talking about it doesn't mean our children don't recognize it or feel it. . . on some level. . . at some point in their lives.

As I've mentioned before here on this blog, I grew up throughout my entire childhood, adolescence and young adulthood really knowing only but one "right" way to think about adoption.  My parents no doubt loved me with everything they had and they made it abundantly clear just how wonderful, positive and miraculous adoption really was.  Adoption brought them their first child, their only daughter and the baby they so desperately wanted.  To them, adoption was a miracle; adoption brought them me.  And though they spoke of my Korean parents with the highest regard and utmost respect, I cannot recall having any specific conversations about the losses in adoption - mine or those of my first parents.  And by not talking about the losses and with no one formally acknowledging that there were parts within adoption that were truly sad, painful and unfair, it did little to help me feel that my sadness, pain, hurt, rejection, grief and shame about adoption was normal or acceptable.  And so I just held it in and kept it to myself - and when that was not physically or emotionally possible, the feelings would manifest themselves into various behaviors that provided an outlet for me to outwardly grieve or express whatever emotion needed to come out.

Recently, I had a heart-to-heart with my mom about some of my inner-most feelings about adoption, including the losses I believe many adoptees experience.  I felt she understood where I was coming from as she immediately recognized and validated the losses of which I spoke.  And then it dawned on me:  Perhaps one of the reasons she and my dad never spoke about the losses in my life was because I never brought them up or displayed any indication that I wanted to discuss them.  And yet, one of the reasons why I never felt comfortable speaking about my feelings of loss was because they never brought them up or displayed any indication that they wanted to discuss them.  Possibly they were seeking to follow my lead, and I, theirs.  And as a result, we never took the walk down that road together.   

As I've stated several times before, I truly believe that the over-arching attitudes and portrayals of adoption in our society and by our media does a tremendous disservice for allowing all voices in adoption to be heard in their totality, namely the full range of truths of adoptees.  So conditioned is our society to associate adoption with only happy, loving and positive emotions and expressions that I think often times this results in many, many adoptees (myself included) questioning the legitimacy of any feelings that happen to run in direct opposition to these predominantly held notions. In the absence of any recognition or validation for the vast feelings an adoptee can possess, she can be rendered not only silent and reticent from expressing her true emotions, but also can be left feeling as if she is wrong, not trying hard enough, guilt-ridden, deficient or even feeling like a bad person for holding these sentiments in the first place.

I have made a conscious effort to have age-appropriate conversations with our son about how it's okay to sometimes feel sad, upset, angry, lonely, rejected, confused and hurt about adoption.  I have the same conversations with our daughter about adoption in hopes that she can better understand and validate the breadth of his feelings that may result from the losses and trauma in his life.  Both of our children know that my husband and I are grateful to have the family that we have, made possible through adoption, but I also let each of them know that I'm sad and that I'm sorry for the losses that our son has incurred and for the losses that his Korean parents have experienced as well.

I believe that it is okay for children to have feelings other than gratitude and happiness about their adoption.  I think it's okay to recognize their losses and to give them the language, the opportunity, a safe place and most importantly, the permission to express every emotion they may have about each step in their life story.  I believe it's okay to say, "I'm so sorry for your loss" and "I'm sorry for your first parent's losses", too.

Indeed my life is filled with numerous blessings and reasons to celebrate. The unconditional love and support of my family and friends as well as my health and the health of my loved ones are all things for which I am truly thankful.  I have always recognized and been able to easily express those thoughts which speak positively to the result of my adoption, not only because I genuinely believe them, but also because I have been encouraged and commended when I do.  And yet I have at times struggled greatly to allow myself to feel and fully express the feelings of loss that accompanied my status as an adoptee; not because my feelings are not authentic, but because for so long, I just did not have the words and even when I did, it hasn't always been readily apparent to me that the feelings pertaining to loss would be accepted or well-received.

I hope to never presume how our son is feeling about his own adoption or tell him what he should or shouldn't believe.  But I do hope that by acknowledging and validating the losses in his life that he feels comfortable owning, expressing and accepting all of the feelings about his adoption - at any given stage in his life and in any varying degree.  Certainly not for my sake. . .but for his.