Heart, Mind and Seoul

Be a Warrior

Jon "Blazeman" Blais  (1971 - 2007)

Wow.  Just wow. 

I think I might have mentioned it here once before, but it's been my dream and goal to complete an Ironman Triathlon next year, the year I turn 40.  While doing some research this morning on various training programs, I came across the story of Jon "Blazeman" Blais - the first person ever diagnosed with ALS to complete the Ironman Championship in Kona (2.4 mile ocean swim, 112 mile bike ride and 26.2 mile run).

I hope you'll be able to watch this amazing and inspirational story.  I promise it will be worth every minute.

I'm Becoming Dangerously Close to Wanting to Scream My Head Off!!!

I will probably burn in eternal flames just for thinking this - let alone writing it out here for all of posterity - but sometimes I wonder if what some adoptive parents REALLY need as part of their homestudy process is to be able to adopt their child, only to be told several months later by their social worker: "Oh, I'm so sorry!  We have some developing news.  It's too bad and too sad, really. There's another family we've found who is better suited to raise this little girl and well, dontcha know, we just have the power to make that happen and so if you could please just gather her things as quickly as you can, we'll just get out of your hair so that you can move on with your life.  Now now - is that a tear I see?  Don't be sad.  I'll tell you what - we'll see if the new family can't send a picture now and again, okay?  Does that make it all better?  Well, we need to run - the new family is waiting!!  Ta-ta for now!" 

(Please know that I'm in no way mocking agencies here - rather I'm trying to illustrate just how flippant and insignificant some people believe the separation of a mother and child to be.)

Of course I'm talking crazy talk and I feel badly for even suggesting such a fictitious and insane instance where a child would be re-traumatized, but what I'm trying to say here is this:

Maybe it would take an event as horrific as this - THE LOSS OF A CHILD - for some adoptive parents to truly understand down to the depths of their heart and to the core of their soul how horrific it is to suffer THE LOSS OF A CHILD.

Because I have to hold out this hope:  If some adoptive parents truly knew how painful it was to be permanently separated from their child, I don't think they'd be saying any of the crap that some of them currently do about their children's first families.

But then again, what do I know?  I'm just the daughter who lost her mother.

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.

Oh The Irony!

Yep, I heard it again this week - the whole notion that I am the real racist because apparently, I "take everything and make it about race". 

Just a little clarification:

When I talk about being under extraordinarily close surveillance of a store employee who is probably thinking about when I'm going to apply the five-finger discount, it's not being racist, nor is it making everything about race.  When the store employee literally follows me around from clothing rack to clothing rack tracking my every move, all the while pretending to sort the merchandise, when what she's really doing is giving me the obvious "up and down" to see where my hands are and if my purse has suddenly expanded in size - that IS about race and yes, it IS racist. 

When I call you out on your explanation that you don't like to drive through certain neighborhoods because of "those people" and you don't feel safe because of what "those people are capable of" - even though you don't even know one person in the entire said neighborhood - yes, that IS about race and yes, it IS racist.

When I tell you about the hotel clerk at the front desk who is too busy typing away at her computer while I'm standing there solo who acknowledges me only to say she'll be there when she can, who all of a sudden miraculously becomes immediately available not even one second later when a white male appears on the scene - why yes, that IS about race and yes, that IS racist.

Guess what?  There's a little thing called privilege that allows white people to talk about the content of their daily lives that deceives them into thinking that EVERYTHING they're talking about isn't about race at all - when in actuality it really is.  It's because of the "white as normative experience" that allows the daily analysis of one's (white person's) day to be thought of as "just another day" because they aren't subjected to the racism and racist acts.  And the minute some white people hear about certain experiences from people of color like myself, all of a sudden it turns into a diatribe about how if: 

"You didn't focus on race so much and didn't take everything so personally, these things wouldn't happen and the world would be a better place where we just could all be color-blind and I work with a guy who looks like you and he doesn't complain about any of this kind of stuff and dammit don't you know that it's people like yourself who are keeping this country racist because all you do is talk about race and if you really can't be happy that you live in the greatest country on earth then why don't you just leave already!?" 

(Yes, people, please believe it; this stuff gets said to me and people of color more than you can ever know.)

Um, okay.  I'll stop talking about my experiences as an Asian American when you stop talking about your experiences of being a woman.  Or a wife.  Or a daughter. Or a sister. Or a mother.  It's impossible you say?  I wonder why that is?

Even better - I'll make this deal with you:  I'll agree to stop talking about race when racist things stop happening to me and other people of color.

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."

 

If I'm Not Locally Produced, Does That Make Me an International Import?

Admittedly, I don't read as many adoption forums, blogs and websites that I once used to - so I realize that my modest sample makes my findings even more skewed than they already are.  That being said, I have recently noticed a higher frequency in the use of "homegrown" - a term used by a parent to refer to his or her biological child.

Maybe it's just me, but there's something about that term that seems a bit off.  Perhaps it's the visual that pops into my head of a sign advertising "Homegrown Tomatoes For Sale!" (it also makes me wonder if my "homegrown" daughter should call me Farmer Mom) and the way it strongly suggests - at least to me - that the said child is some kind of commodity.  I guess I don't see it so much as a term of endearment as I do a description - for a product.  And what about the kids that aren't "homegrown" - what does that make them (including me and my son)?  Foreign goods?  High-end imported products custom made in Korea? 

All snarkiness aside, I'm all for employing new and progressive adoption terminology that preserves and promotes the dignity of children and families, but I'm just not sure that this one does.

When You Look at Me

When you look at me
Perhaps you see
Your daughter, your friend or 
that girl from school you used to know

I speak like you
Dress like you
Even act like you
Am basically white familiarity to you

When you look at me
What you may not know
Is that I still get stares
when I'm out with my dad
Must make certain that I always call him "dad"
when alone in public
Clearly and often
Don't want to be mistaken for his lady friend
again

Some look at me
And see a sign on me
Promising them dirty love
"All you Asian women are hot to trot you know
so come on and gimme some of what you got to me"
Fee or free? he asks 
The heat is on in Saigon

When some people speak to me
They're surprised to find
That I don't stay in my place
"You Oriental women are so nice"
Just be still like China dolls
Eyes down
lips sealed
No name, no mind
asian girl #3 will suffice

When some look at me
I sense they are giddy to see
The new addition
They've found
"Celebrate diversity!"
Asians are good like that
or so I've been told
In this climate it's probably best
to stick with the safest bet
Assimilate, assimilate, assimilate
No threats here

When you look at me
Please try and see
How others take in
My Asian brown skin
The labels
The jokes
And the mold we're forced in
Just because that's how
we are shown on the screen
Portrayed like we are
if we're even seen
at all
Doesn't mean
I am who you think I am
when you look at me

When you look at me
Please don't assume
That others aren't assuming
When they look at me

What's Your Definition of Nice?

There used to be a time - and I'm embarrassed to admit that it wasn't all that long ago - when I believed that any question asked of me and every statement directed my way deserved a dignified response.  It didn't matter if it was a stranger asking me how or where I learned to speak "very good English" (wouldn't this be a fun retort: "Hooked on Phonics - it worked for me! Oh and by the way, I actually speak English very well, but thank you for noticing.") or if it was an acquaintance speculating that my Korean mother was probably a prostitute and that I most likely have dozens of half-siblings roaming the streets of Seoul and would I be interested in finding them one day?  (Really?  This person actually thought that this was okay to say?  To my face?!) 

There have been so many offensive and inappropriate things said or asked of me in which many cases my only response was a blank stare - which in turn gave the offender an escape handed to them on a silver platter of trying to absolve themselves of any responsibility with a casual and innocent "Oh you know I'm just joking!  Don't take any offense" kind of remark.  And without me uttering even a single word, I would walk away from the one-sided exchange feeling humiliated, appalled, embarrassed and incensed - more so at myself for just sitting there and taking it.  And the other party?  Well, in my estimation, the other party had the luxury of just walking away.

As for the rest of the questions and remarks - as dubious as they would appear - I still found myself delivering responses that were unnecessarily kind, patient and generous in nature.  Random people inquiring about my Korean parents and the reasons behind my relinquishment?  Of course I should share!  People who are neither adopted nor persons of color trying to tell me what it must be like to be a Korean adoptee?  Sure!  Why shouldn't they have the chance to voice their opinion regardless of how inane or insane it might be? 

What I finally realized is this:  My personality flaw of wanting to please everyone augmented by my desire to never want to hurt anyone's feelings amplified by bouts of low self-esteem compounded by decades of internalized messages that have told me to always take the high road, to turn the other cheek, to never make a scene and God forbid, to not EVER be rude made for a woman who did a piss-poor job of standing-up for herself.

I honestly used to think that it was my personal cross to bear to be a walking educator for those who wanted to know all about international and transracial adoption.  I used to make excuses for those who'd project their racist and prejudiced attitudes out on me and genuinely believed that handling them with kid gloves was the most effective way of trying to influence their views or soften their hearts.  Kindness begets kindness, right?  Everyone deserves the right to be heard, no?  Walking away or just saying you don't want to talk about it is the epitome of disrespect towards another human being is it not? 

Perhaps some of you can relate to the unspoken mantra that I have spent a lifetime ascribing to: That no matter what may come your way the important thing to remember is to always, always BE NICE.

Those two little words that always seemed to be permeating the lining of my brain and dictating my actions.  The two words that in certain situations make absolutely no sense whatsoever.  The two syllables that in some scenarios by which I have learned the hard way can actually be harmful and even downright dangerous. They are two words that together create a phrase that I have since reclaimed its power and renamed its meaning to suit my best interests.  (Sounds selfish doesn't it?  And don't you just love it?!) 

Being nice doesn't mean having to answer questions that people have no business asking in the first place.  Being nice isn't about tolerating teasing or putting up with other's "jokes" that clearly are offensive, insensitive and just plain wrong.  Being nice doesn't mean you can't tell a classmate or a colleague:  "I don't like what you're saying to me and I want you to stop" and then leaving or reporting the situation (gasp!  the audacity!).

Since becoming a parent, I realized that I had a lot of work to do in breaking the cycle in how I wanted my own family to handle other people's ignorance regarding race and adoption. When I think of the countless times in my life where I was approached with crass, insensitive and rude remarks and then actually responded as if I was the one who had done something wrong, I literally cringe.  Calling people out on their behavior is still something that I am working on, but believe me, I've come light years from where I used to be.  I'm acutely aware that modeling this for my kids is critical and that what they see me doing is far more powerful than listening to me talk about what I should have or wished I would have done.  Through regular and age-appropriate role-playing activities and conversations, my kids know they don't have to say or do anything they don't want to.  When people approach my 8 year-old daughter with a quizzical "You're awfully cute. What are you exactly?" - she knows enough to recognize that this is a highly personal and inappropriate question to be asking and that it's entirely up to her whether or not she chooses to say or share anything at all.  When kids say to my son - which happened in his preschool this past year -"Your eyes are funny looking" he knows that one of his options is to simply walk away.  No explanations necessary and no residual guilty feelings needed. 

And maybe some people will still accuse me of being too nice in my responses.  It's just not in my nature to raise my voice, hurl profanities or be outright cruel in order to feel that I'm getting my point across.  But what I do now - and what I actively try to teach my kids to do every day - is to exercise the right to employ an arsenal of options (non-threatening and non-physical ones, of course) to handle different situations as I (and they) see fit.  That means letting go of the mentality that I am obligated to speak when spoken to and to be mindful of the fact that not everyone deserves my time, attention and energy just because they demand it.  Because they don't.  And it's not my or my kids' responsibility or moral duty to offer any explanation. 

And that's not being rude.  And it's not being "not nice".  And it doesn't mean that I'm being impolite. It's just me taking care of business while concurrently taking care of myself.

And yes, I acknowledge that I am a late bloomer - that what I'm saying is nothing new - and that it's what I should have been doing the past 30-some years anyhow.

But the point is that I'm doing it now and more importantly, so are my kids.  And you know what?  As a mom, that is something that I do think is really, really nice.

On Again & Off Again.

"Mom, I have an unknown grandma, don't I?"

"Yes. . .you do."

"And an unknown grandpa, too?"

"Yes.  And maybe unknown uncles, aunts and cousins as well."

"Will I ever get to meet them?"

"I don't know, sweetie.  I honestly don't know."

This conversation I had with my nearly 8 year-old daughter earlier today came about after she remarked aloud how much she looked like both of her parents and how I didn't look at all like either of mine.  She of course knows that I am adopted and knows that I do not have any contact with or information about my Korean family.  It got me thinking back to January 2007, when I first made a decision to start my search.

I starting combing the internet for sites that sought to reunite Korean adoptees and their families.  If memory serves, I think I almost registered with one site in particular, but after scrolling down the hundreds and hundreds of baby referral pictures hoping to be recognized, I felt too overwhelmed, too discouraged that my picture would ever be noticed and just too filled with sorrow from reading the pleas of adult adoptees who were seeking leads that might result in any kind of personal information. 

I contacted the post-adoption branch of the agency that my parents used and got no where fast.  Options such as spending an undetermined amount of time in Korea in hopes to successfully connect with media outlets like KBS (a Korean TV station) to be on their show which spotlights adopted Korean who are searching was well, unfortunately, not an option at that time.  (According to G.O.A.'L, adoptees living outside Korea now may have the opportunity to use KBS to aid their family search efforts by participating live via webcam.)  I communicated with other Korean adoptees and was both flummoxed and appalled by their stories of their own respective adoptive agencies unwillingness to help.  If you don't feel that your adoption agency - the one and only place that holds any and all information pertaining to your history - isn't on your side, just exactly how is one to obtain any kind of information?  The proverbial needle in the haystack started to sound like good odds.  It began to feel more like finding a specific grain of sand along the Jersey Shore.  Could it be done?  Technically yes.  Would it ever actually happen in my lifetime?  Probably not.

I will be the first to admit that I have harbored many a different fantasy about my Korean parents and the circumstances in which I was relinquished.  I've had visions of reunion being marked with open, welcoming arms; where happy tears are shed uncontrollably and long embraces between us all never seem to end.  Images of immediate connections, obstacles of all sorts overcome with the greatest of ease and happily ever afters for everyone around.  Of course I know this to be purely fiction, but I will confess that my mind has indulged these very dreams.

And then I think of the other extreme, where the knowledge of my very existence brings forth nothing but heavy dosages of shame, anger and resentment upon my Korean family.  Where pride, status and even lives would literally be destroyed, all because of me.  After hearing a Korean first mother speak a few years ago at a seminar sponsored by the agency we used to adopt our son, I remember thinking "My God.  What if I actually found my parents and it caused so much disruption, so much grief and angst that my Korean mom ended up killing herself?"  As selfish as it is/was to think, I couldn't help but ask myself if that was something that I could live with for the rest of my life.  Was searching and ultimately finding my Korean parents too much of a risk for them?  Was it something that I could handle, regardless of the outcome?  I didn't know then and I still don't know now.

All this to say, I have not actively searched for my Korean family for quite some time.  I have dug deep within myself to find the answers as to why that is and well, the answers are complex.  My feelings toward resuming a search and the potential (however small) for reunion are fearful, reluctant, optimistic, painful, hopeful, scared, validating and more - so many, many more.

Some may argue that if I really felt strongly about it one way or the other, that I would have done something by now.  Others may sense cowardice.  And yet others may say I just enjoy a good drama every now and again.

All I know is that when it comes to the decision to search, I must be true to myself and honor what it is that I truly want to do.   Without that to guide me, any choice that I make with regards to searching isn't really worthy of being called a choice at all. 

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.