Yoon's Blur

Farewell to Yoon's Blur

2011-08-05T08:35:00.000-07:00

So, I know I just said I was going to take a break. But I have decided that, yes, it is time to go.

No more "breaks." This is it.

In light of all the "breaks" I have been taking recently, I finally realized that I am just not motivated to blog here anymore. Yoon's Blur feels like a pair of shoes that no longer fits quite right. Walking in them feels arduous and cumbersome.

I'll still be blogging occasionally over at Lost Daughters. And you might be able to find me hanging out at Wordpress in a different pair of shoes. But I'm done here.

I will keep Yoon's Blur up, so if you happen to be stumbling upon this blog for the first time, please feel free to dive in and see what you can dig up. But no new content will be added.

I have appreciated all the readers, your commentary and insights, even when we have not agreed.

I am certainly not the same person I was when I first started blogging here. And although this is my final blog post here, for better or for worse, I will never be done in my journey as an adoptee.

Thank you everyone for reading. I wish you and your families all the best.

On strike indefinitely...

2011-08-02T09:43:00.000-07:00

Just fyi, I'm on strike [again] indefinitely. Can't take it. Too much going on, and I just don't want to be an adoptee anymore. Don't want to care anymore. Don't want to be affected so profoundly by it anymore. Runaway into oblivion where I can just forget that adoption crapola ever bothered me. To use a cliche and hammy metaphor, I feel like Neo in The Matrix, but sometimes I want to be that other guy, what the heck was his name? The guy who betrayed everyone to get plugged back in...

Quotes from Adult Adoptees

2011-07-14T05:00:00.000-07:00

Excerpted from the blog post, "What's the point?" by Mei-Ling at her blog, Exile of Xingnan:

Because yes, “the desire of a woman wanting to be a parent overrides the validity of a woman who can’t support her child.” Because everyone is selfish in adoption, and no one does anything solely for charity (much like the real world). I’m not saying their selfishness is wrong – I’m saying it’s seen as more valid than those who do not get what they want. If people want to adopt, unless they don’t pass the requirements their desire for adopting won’t be any less. They will still adopt, and it will be seen as more valid than those who are left behind, those families of origin who want their families.

That’s the point. There is no balance. There is no change. All the cycle does is continue.

That’s why I’m starting to think adoptive parent allies wouldn’t work.

"Use your privilege, I won't be a kid forever"

2011-07-12T13:55:00.000-07:00

For any last minute takers, Dr. John Raible, an adult adoptee and adoptive parent, is doing a webinar, "Adoptees as parents," hosted by the group, Adoptees Have Answers. Here's his own description of the webinar that will take place tomorrow:

I promise you, this presentation will be thought-provoking, if not controversial. I will share my latest thinking about the sometimes tense relations between adoptees and parents, and the advantages of being a parent AS an adoptee. I’ll also be discussing strategies for how parents can take on ally behaviors from a social justice perspective. And I’ll address how we adoptees need allies, and why they are so hard to find. Together we will explore: Can parents really be allies to their adopted children? What is an ally anyway?

Sounds like fun, huh? So if you haven’t already registered, now is the time! Click here.

I give up: "Disaster Highlights Plight of Japanese Orphans"

2011-07-12T05:00:00.000-07:00

Disaster Highlights Plight of Japanese Orphans

Honestly, there are times I just want to choke and give up.

It's all so stinkin' complicated, and my brain and heart just feel like they're going to explode when I read articles like the one above.

Family or care? I want to explore this question.

2011-07-11T07:35:00.000-07:00

Please chime in on this discussion with your perspective, particularly if you grew up in foster care/institutional setting, are an adoptee, and/or work/have worked in a social work or institutional setting. It's a worthy & complex discussion that demands insight from all parties involved. I, myself, am very interested to hear what you all have to say regarding Margie's question.

New adoption law puts family preservation first

2011-07-07T11:26:00.000-07:00

"National Assembly passes law reform bill reflecting the voices of adoptees, birth parents and single moms"

To read what Jane Jeong Trenka, TRACK President; Tammy Ko Robinson, Professor, Hanyang University; Kim Stoker, ASK Representative wrote in response to the new adoption legislation in Korea, click here.

Oh when the saints come marching in...

2011-07-06T05:00:00.000-07:00

(I actually wrote this in 2010, about a year ago, but never published it...since I'm low on time these days, I decided what the heck, I'll go ahead with it...for those of you who might have noticed, I accidentally published it a couple days ago under the original date...)

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate Adoptive Parents who work as allies to adoptees.

I appreciate those who are willing to admit to and face the harder realities of adoption. I appreciate AP's who educate not only themselves but others about the pitfalls and flaws. I am glad for those who are not too timid to speak up on behalf of adoptees.

And yet, as I surf the adoption community blogosphere, something that stands out to me repeatedly is how much attention and focus are given to Adoptive Parents. Not only is there a high volume of traffic on these blogs, but they're the ones to whom other adoptive parents turn, always the ones presenting and speaking at adoption conferences and the like, always the ones whose two cents are valued like gold...

And to a certain degree, rightfully so.

But what bothers me is not that adoptive parent blogs thrive in massive numbers or that adoptive parents are presenting and speaking at conferences--but that adult adoptees are not equally represented.

It's not about jealousy, folks. Please. It's about that ever-present imbalance, neglect, ignorance--whatever you want to call it--that favors, turns to, addresses, focuses on the Adoptive Parent over the Adoptee.

I know a lot of great adoptive parents. Their level and depth of understanding and insight comfort and inspire me.

But they are not my voice. They are not the ones I want representing me as an adult adoptee. I want to represent me. I want other adult adoptees to represent me, to represent themselves.

Of course, AP's know what it's like to be an adoptive parent. But Adoptive Parents will never know what it's like to be an Adoptee (unless, of course, they happen to an adoptee who has also adopted...).

When it comes to how adoption affects the adopted person, when it comes to the adoptee psyche and experience, when it comes to what life is like as an adoptee on a daily basis--in school, at work, in the grocery store, out at a restaurant, etc.--Adoptive Parents are not the experts. They're simply not the ones with the expertise who should be educating each other on what adoptee life is like, about the realities of adoption, and its effects on the adopted person.

Not that they can't learn and therefore, become allies to adoptees and to a certain degree advocate and educate. But the fact that adoptive parents are the ones tapped on the shoulder when it comes to educating others or speaking to others or addressing the media's questions, etc., etc. just makes me more than a little frustrated.

And it's not like this subject hasn't been addressed before. I'm not the first to recognize it or blog about it.

But when the heck is it going to CHANGE?

When will adult adoptees finally be recognized as the voices to which to listen? When will adult adoptees finally be the primary educators when it comes to the adoption experience. When will adoptive parents take the back seat and stop driving the vehicle?

Why is it so maddeningly difficult to make our voices, as adult adoptees, not only heard, but established, and not as some cutesy, tear-jerker speaker, but as a valid, serious, primary expert on the adoptee experience?

It doesn't matter what we do--whether we get angry or get nice, whether we scream or we cry, whether we speak softly or harshly--we're still patronized, not taken seriously, treated like children, heard but not listened to, acknowledged but only in a superficial, condescending way--like patting a child on the head and saying, "There, there, now..."

I'm so stinkin' tired of always trying to get out of the shadows. I'm so tired of trying to prove that our voices are valid, are worthy, are necessary.

It makes me want to stab my eyes out. Okay, sorry, that's a bit extreme.

But, seriously.

Those AP's who happen to stumble upon or read an adult adoptee blog once or twice every month or so are lauded as progressive--patting themselves on the backs.

Puh-lease. Give me a break.

I don't mean to sound like an insensitive jerk. But I'm just feeling so fed up these days, and weary...

But I'll keep chuggin' and pluggin' because my dang relentless nature won't let me do otherwise....

Why tracking living kin is ethically necessary

2011-07-03T05:52:00.000-07:00

From the blog, Rileys in Uganda, Keren Riley shares in her post, "For Little Hearts to Heal," about two siblings who had been removed from their mother and placed in institutional care for 15 months even though their father and grandmother are alive and desperately requested to care for them, but simply lacked the resources to retrieve them. (Please read the original post for the full context):

...the children's father visited the "orphanage" to see his children for the first time in 15 months and then he visited again today bringing along the children's Grandmother...I spent quite a lot of time with these two children in the early days and witnessed countless Western visitors wanting to adopt the little boy who always had a smile on his face. I would always tell them that he had a sibling and that would usually quickly turn them off the idea. Thank goodness nobody adopted them...

One of the biggest lessons I have learnt over the last few months is that not all children in "orphanages" are orphans, that they weren't all abused and unwanted. There are many examples of miscarriages of justice going on in the "orphanage" business and unfortunately, business is what it often is. If only "orphanages" started tracing these children's families and finding birth parents/extended family members who were given the chance to look after them and love them, then the landscape of institutional care would look very different here.

How can you say that these children's families don't want them, if nobody is even looking for them or giving them the chance?

I take it personally

2011-06-29T05:00:00.000-07:00

[Originally written on 4.19.2010]

This past weekend, I visited with an adoptive parent group and a group of mentors about my adoption experience. I was very refreshed by their openness and their willingness to listen. It is uplifting and consoling to know that their are people out there who want to get it, who are willing to open their minds and hearts to take the time to educate themselves. High five.

When I encounter parents and others who are so willing to make efforts to learn and to understand, it also makes me question why there still remain so many parents and people in general who refuse to do the same. It's comparable to, say, the well-known fact that driving while drunk is incredibly hazardous and potentially fatal not only for the drunk driver but for those on the road with him or her--but people, against their better judgement, still choose to drive drunk anyway. Despite the statistics, people make the choice every day to get in a car while intoxicated. They choose to ignore the very real and known facts and consequences of doing so.

We're all human, and we've all made poor decisions, even when presented with sound knowledge that such a decision might result in harmful or detrimental consequences to ourselves and those around us. Yet the idea is that we hopefully learn enough from such mistakes to begin to humble ourselves in order to listen, even when we'd rather not, because we know that someone else might have wisdom that we do not.

I know I can sound like a broken record, but I repeat myself hoping that those who might doubt the insight that adult adoptees offer will eventually begin to listen.

I think part of the reason I have such a hard time when I encounter adoptive parents who do not acknowledge the losses of being adopted and all the grief and pain that inherently accompany such losses is that I take it personally.

It’s not easy, you know, putting your heart out there. Discussing the difficulties I have encountered as an adoptee is not necessarily what I’d describe as a fun and heart-warming experience, especially when I encounter folks who seem to consider my experience an anomalous or unfair representation of the adoptee experience.

I take it personally, because it’s as though their refusal to acknowledge the reality of the trauma their child has experienced is a refusal to acknowledge the truth of the experience of all the adult adoptees that have been brave enough and vulnerable enough to shed light upon the otherwise neglected hardships of being adopted.

It’s almost as though these people are calling me, and my fellow adoptees, liars.

With the abundance of adult adoptee blogs not to mention the myriad of resources available that educate and address the losses and unique issues faced by adoptees, I find it almost insulting and certainly patronizing when adoptive parents choose to turn a blind eye and believe their own ideas over what is actually true.

And it’s not as though I didn’t once think like some of these adoptive parents or the general public. If you had spoken with my fifteen year old self, or even a few years later had a conversation with my twenty-five year old self, you would have walked away thinking that I had no desire whatsoever to know my biological parents, and even more so that being adopted had caused me no harm or issue.

Despite what you may think, I did not always think the way that I do now. And the way I think now is not because I’m an apple that went rotten.

So, what happened? Why has my mindset changed over the years?

Er, well, first of all, I grew up—literally. This means my brain metamorphosed and developed dramatically, and hence my capacity to understand and process complex human thought and emotion eventually developed with it.

As I have mentioned before, the capacity of a ten-year old versus a thirty-year old to process the implications of his or her adoption are literally developmentally and physiologically different.

Although the capacity increases with each year of development, the maturity to process it all takes years to develop.

I matured.

I allowed myself to think what had seemed unthinkable to me before. I allowed myself to feel what I had once believed was untouchable.

The other thing that happened is that I began reading research, studies, books, adult adoptee blogs that helped me realize that I was not crazy for feeling and thinking these things. Reading the books and blogs did not somehow change my mind, but rather helped me to understand what I was already feeling.

I didn’t conjure these thoughts and emotions up from some imaginary place. They were always within me, but buried and latent like a dormant volcano.

It’s true each adoptee responds to his or her adoption in his or her own way. Certainly, we are not cookies made from a cookie cutter. But there are basic truths that characterize the adoptee experience—and one of those crucial, fundamental truths is the truth of loss, and all the grief and pain that comes along with it.

Why is that so hard for parents and family, friends and strangers to acknowledge this?

Quotes from Adult Adoptees

2011-06-25T05:00:00.000-07:00

"And as unique as this circumstance is, is it where we really want to dwell? Forever agitated? I want a normal life. I had a somewhat normal life, only I was unaware of what was causing me pain. Now that I’m aware, I want that life back, knowing it will be a richer, more informed life. While I will never deny that I’m adopted, It doesn’t mean I want/need/should-have-to live in Adoptoland."

-girl4708, "fatigue," at her blog, Hello Korea!

Lost Daughters: Visit This New Blog

2011-06-23T05:00:00.000-07:00

Stop by this new group blog, Lost Daughters, where female adult adoptees (including myself) share our thoughts and experiences regarding adoption.

Excerpted from "About this Blog":

We are female adult adoptees. We bring to you our thoughts and experiences as people who live adoption each and every single day, spanning ages from 20's to mid 60's. We come from a variety of walks of life, world views, religious views, political views, as well as types of adoption, countries of origin, and countries we currently reside. We cannot claim to be completely inclusive of every adoptee woman who lives adoption--how can we? Every adoptee is a unique individual with their own thoughts, experiences, and story to tell. But we try our best to bring you a variety of experiences with the near 20 adoptee authors we have blogging here.

While we are all different, we share at least one thing in common: we are all daughters, lost to adoption.

Hamster in a Wheel

2011-06-22T05:00:00.000-07:00

At times, it starts to feel like we as adoptees are hamsters in a wheel--thinking we're getting something done, but in reality getting nowhere, and in the meanwhile, folks are watching our every move sometimes for research, other times for what they call enrichment, and still other times for a form of educational entertainment, not unlike a reality TV show (and I don't make that comparison in a complimentary way).

But what can I say? In part, I open myself up to it--no one is forcing me to blog my heart out. I do it of my own accord. However, I will say that, of course, I did not choose to be an adoptee. And if I could un-choose it, I would.

It's this odd contradiction--I both despise and embrace being the hamster. Aka, I both despise and embrace being an adoptee. I despise it, because if I had a choice, I'd choose not to be an adoptee. But because I can't not be an adoptee, I choose to embrace it--that is, to a certain degree.

I embrace it as much as I'm willing to talk about it via blogs and the cyber world. But in "real life"--every day life outside of this cyber world adoption community--it's almost like my secret identity. I rarely talk about it to a soul, but I FEEL it every day, I DEAL with it every day.

Another part is that I simply don't want to be "the adoptee." I am an adoptee, but I am not ONLY an adoptee. And yet, there is this constant tension of wanting the hardship and pain of being an adoptee to be recognized and acknowledged and yet also wanting it to be forgotten.

I both want to belong and not belong. I feel dizzy even trying to explain the constant back and forth and tug-of-war that takes place in my mind.

As I wrote in an email to a fellow adoptee:

To add to that for me personally, I'm also still generally insecure, even at 36 years old--I still never assume or believe that anyone would even want to know me...So, a lot of the time I don't attempt to initiate, because I often feel that doing so would be adding a burden to that person's life...furthermore, I loathe being boxed in or identified with any one particular label, and yet I also long to "belong" in some small way...if I've figured anything out about my adoptee experience, it's that it's full of contradiction...

As I share thoughts and experiences like the ones above, I know I often direct them to adoptive parents. I think in part I do this, because I think they need to know--because, well, their kids are going to grow up to be adults who just might think critically about their adoptions one day.

I know AP's can feel a lot of pressure from adult adoptees, but adoptees feel just as much pressure, if not more, to perform and be a certain way. I figure the least an AP can do is give an ear to adult adoptees. Maybe that's presumptuous. But, hey, if it's not presumptuous to assume that a child would want to be removed from his or her birth country and people to live in a foreign country among foreign people with a set of strangers...

...Not that one presumption justifies another--exactly, I think you get my point...

But setting aside AP's and other adoption community members, really I wish your every day person would listen. I wish the every person I encountered could read adult adoptee blogs so that conversations like the following didn't feel so laborious and uncomfortable:

"Is your mom Korean?"

"Uh, well, no, yes, I mean [oh crap, here we go], uh, [awkward smile] I'm adopted [inward rolling of my eyes at myself for still fumbling and not knowing how to handle this question]."

"Oh, really."

"Yeah, but I reunited with my Korean family two years ago--"

"Oh. But your adoptive parents are your REAL parents, RIGHT?"

"Oh, right, yes, of course [churning, sinking feeling in my gut]. I mean, well, I see it as I have four parents, or well, six or seven if you count all my in-laws, but really it's very complicated, it's hard, it has been quite a journey--[cut myself off, I'm such an idiot, why do I even bother?]"

Gah.

Chances are, though, even if your average person was to read this, he or she might still shrug shoulders and say, "Huh?"

But I guess it would be the effort and thought that would count for something--comprehension would be like the cherry on top...or really, maybe more accurately, it would be like finally getting to eat my spaghetti and sauce with a fork in my hands instead of with my mouth while my hands are bound behind my back. That's messy and hard to do--you get up from the table even hungrier and more frustrated than when you began...

Quotes from Adult Adoptees

2011-06-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

"Adoption is like a gift that is unasked for."

-Mei-Ling, "Would They Want this" at her blog, Exiled Sister

This Sucks: G'OAL losing government funding

2011-06-10T06:25:00.000-07:00

G'OAL is getting cut off at the legs if not completely dismembered. This is incredibly disillusioning and makes me more than irate. Go Korean government. How I love to hate you:

G.O.A.'L closes its doors: What can Korea's Ministry of Health and Welfare be thinking?

Evolution of an Adoptee: From Certainty to Ambivalence

2011-06-09T09:34:00.000-07:00

As an adoptee my perspective of adoption, and international adoption in particular, has evolved drastically, albeit slowly, over the past several years.

I don't view adoption like I used to view it.

In my earlier years, I was basically a "poster child" for adoption. I would speak at adoption agency functions or at churches touting adoption--I would tell my story to pull on the heartstrings of the hearers--tears would trickle down cheeks--hoping that they would respond by wanting to adopt internationally.

Now I feel sick to my stomach when I think about the way I allowed myself to be used.

I'm not necessarily saying that agencies or churches purposely or manipulatively "used" me, but I will at least say that on certain occasions I was coached on what to say and how to say it. I was specifically told to edit out parts during which I spoke about my difficulties as an adoptee. Eventually, I learned simply to self-edit out the "darker side" of my adoption experience when I spoke at these functions.

And that makes me feel even more gross.

As I have forced myself to think critically about my adoption experience, my ideas about adoption have certainly evolved from positive to ambivalent. And as this evolution has taken place, I find my adoptee identity not as fully embraced by those who once embraced it, whether fellow adoptees or adoptive parents or friends and family. But I have learned that I can only accept this--it's inevitable, at least at this point.

The major point of divergence with many of these folks is my stance on international adoption. When it comes down to it, I am not an advocate for international adoption any more. But I once was. And hence, subsequently, this has led to discord at times.

My reasons for deciding to shift from "advocate" to "un-advocate" are complicated and many. And I have written soooo many posts trying to explain all the reasons, sometimes with success, other times to no avail.

But to share yet another practical yet poignant reason--words from my Omma and Imo:

"Thinking of my grandson, my eyes filled with a tear. As a mother, I should be there and help you recuperating but I can not. I'm really sorry...We can't speak each other's language so we can't talk on the phone..." -Omma

"I'm really sorry for you and your mother. I can't imagine how hard it is to have each other in mind and miss each other for that long time. It's really sad that we can't call each other because we can't speak each other's language even if we miss each other so much..." -Imo (maternal Aunt)

[I received the above words via translation, obviously, in letters written by my Korean mother and Aunt.]

If the above words are not reason enough to make us question International Adoption, then there's no point even bothering to share the host of other reasons...

Yes, I used to speak with certainty about how "lucky" I was to be adopted. I used to say with certainty that I had no desire to seek out my Korean origins and that being adopted had no ill effects on me or my life. And I said it all while smiling sincerely, because at the time I meant it all.

But, then, I had to go and peek inside that box, or open that door, or look over the wall...

And now, I linger in ambivalence. Now, I weep and hurt over the mess that adoption forces me to live.

Although I have an amazing life on one side of the fence, on the other side, I live a life filled with a seemingly relentless grief, sorrow, and aching.

Walking that fence is a balancing act to state the obvious--and I fall and crack open my head on almost a daily basis.

But, I also get back up, wipe away the blood, and hop back onto the fence, albeit dizzy and whirling, because a decision to choose one life over the other feels false and deceptive.

I will continue to evolve, no doubt. But I imagine it will be from one form of ambivalence to another. The only resolution I've come to expect these days is the resolution that I'll never be resolved...

Quotes from Adult Adoptees

2011-06-07T16:15:00.000-07:00

I am mega short on time these days. And my blog shows it.

My brain and emotional energy are running low these days. So, I'm going to siphon off some from others.

Hence, from time to time, I want to share "Quotes from Adult Adoptees." These quotes will come from emails, conversations, blogs, etc. (I may also at times share quotes from other members of the "adoption constellation.")

Here's the quote:

"One of the biggest issues I had with my parents was that they were making a truly vanguard choice in going that route... & then they promptly forgot [how convenient for their WASP-y asses!] that they had effectively bought two little Asian kids & painted them - via naming conventions & pure, unadulterated hope - white, & assumed no one else would notice the incongruity." -Katie, Korean Adoptee

“Would You Have Expected Your Parents To Fork Over $10,000?”

2011-05-24T13:12:00.000-07:00

Blogger Mei-Ling wrote this post, “Would You Have Expected Your Parents To Fork Over $10,000?” in response to a discussion that ensued regarding my recent post, "The Ugly Truths".

She answers this question with perfect insight and precisely puts to words what I have been trying to figure out for years but never could:

"Yes, I am selfish enough that I wish my adoptive parents would have wanted to hand over the money so that I could have stayed with my family. Call me insane, crazy, insensitive, incredulous. But while I intellectually understand one side of the issue (forking over $10,000 being unreasonable), I take the other side on this issue to heart, as it is so very personal."

Please read Mei-Ling's whole post for the entire context (and "The Ugly Truths," if you have not already).

We wanted to "grow" our family?

2011-05-23T10:41:00.000-07:00

Okay, for years now, I keep hearing this from adopters or prospective adopters--the whole, "we wanted to grow our family."

What does that even mean? I'm being serious. [Adoptive parents feel free to chime in and explain what you mean when you say this, because it truly baffles me--but also understand I still might not like it...]

I honestly don't get it. And even more honestly, for some reason that I have yet to identify, every time I hear it, it makes me bristle and cringe. To again be quite frank, I hate the phrase. But I don't know why I hate it so much.

Why does it bother me so much? Fellow adoptee bloggers and readers does it bother you at all when you hear this phrase, or am I the only one? And if it does bother you, do you mind sharing your reasons as to why it bothers you, because maybe that'll help me figure out why in the world I can't stand it?

I often will have a gut reaction to something, but at times it takes a while before I can connect the emotional dots back to their originating thoughts. (The result of years of learning to suppress what I was actually thinking and feeling...)

All I know is that the explanation of "we adopted not to save a child but to grow our family" just rubs me the wrong way, and yet I don't know why...

* * *

Ok, and then, just another random thingy...

When I hear people express all the reasons as to why family preservation programs and efforts won't or can't work in said country, I also bristle and get incredibly annoyed.

Can't, can't, can't.

Anything is possible. The wall in Germany came down. Helen Keller wrote some of the most beautifully descriptive essays I have ever read. Apartheid fell in South Africa. Segregation finally ended here in America. Man walked on moon.

Now of course, Germany still deals with the scars. Helen Keller was still deaf and blind. South Africa still struggles. Racism is by no means eradicated from America. And there are still those who disbelieve the moon landing.

But there are also still those who continue to press on--those who work to learn from the past in Germany, those who continue to seek out solutions to overcome deafness and blindness, those who struggle together toward healing in South Africa, those who fight to rise above racism, and those who actually can personally attest to their participation in moon landings from the crews on the ground to the crews in space.

And besides, "can't" never got anyone or any nation anywhere.

I've heard it said, "don't let what you can't do stop you from what you can do." I say don't say "can't" and watch what formerly impossible feats and tasks finally become possible.

The Ugly Truths

2011-05-20T12:00:00.000-07:00

[I may be about to throw myself into some hot water with this post. I wrote it back in April but never posted it because, well, honestly, I was apprehensive to do so. I know some will disagree vehemently with what I have expressed below, but I'm not saying anything that hasn't been said before. And ultimately, life ain't about always agreeing but rather learning to somehow live peacefully among those with whom we differ...]

Here goes...

What if every adoption agency transformed itself into primarily family preservation agencies that provided networks, resources, and services to help families stay together. Oh wait, that's crazy talk--you can't make much money that way. They would truly have to be nonprofit organizations that relied mainly on donations, fundraising, grants, etc. Oops. And families here wouldn't be able to have the sweet little "international" child they've always wanted and/or be the exemplary, trendy, progressive multi-cultural, multi-ethnic family they've always dreamed of. Oh wait, you mean they could adopt a child out of the foster care system here in the States? Oh, wait, you mean they want a baby or at least a toddler, and they want it to happen asap. I see. Oh, and they hear foster children in the U.S. have issues but kids adopted internationally are a lot more grateful and less problematic. Oh, I see.

[Side note: I am learning more and more that adoption and foster care in America are less than ideal, to say the least, riddled with their own injustices, disparities, and inequities. But that's a whole other topic better addressed by those who live it: The Declassified Adoptee, Real Daughter, or Life of Mom...After Loss to Adoption, I Was a Foster Kid or To Tell Truth-Please Stand Up]

Look, I know not all adoptive parents that adopt internationally think this way--and not all AP's seek after a baby or toddler-aged child. But, a lot do. I know not all adoptive parents view children in foster care in this condescending way, but enough do. And I know there are some adoptive parents that adopt older children or children with "special needs." I realize that, I do.

But that's not what I'm here to talk about, because the adoption world doesn't need more praise and justification. Adoptive parents don't need another adoptee singing their praises or telling them everything they're doing right. They don't need more pats on the back or handshakes or flattery.

They, and the general public, need a reality check--a willingness to face and acknowledge the disparities, discrepancies, the injustices, inequities, etc. that carry the thriving adoption industry.

No matter how you rationalize it in your mind to deny the truth, it will nonetheless remain the truth--that, yes, there is a relationship between adoption and child abandonment. Some AP's have convinced themselves that the two are not connected--and yes, you have to convince yourself of this, because the connection is otherwise obvious and undeniable ("If you build it, they will come").

And before you assume that I'm oversimplifying matters, understand that as an adoptee caught between two lives, two families, two worlds, I can't afford to indulge in simplistic thinking--which means, YES, I realize it's complicated. I realize that social, political, cultural, and economic factors ALL play a role in the root causes that lead to child abandonment. But I'm not okay with folks using these factors as an excuse to say things like, "Well, we don't live in a perfect world, so international adoption is necessary," aka, that's just the way it is, and you can't change it.

Bullhonky.

Look these mothers in the face and tell them that. Look my Omma in the face and tell her you'd rather have given thousands of dollars to adopt me than to help build the social, cultural, political, and economic networks, resources, reforms, and services she needed to keep me and care for me.

Change can happen, but not with apathy and indifference, not with excuse-making and rationalization, not with a mentality of entitlement that deems some more worthy than others based on perceived standards of wealth.

There are people and organizations (Child's i Foundation/Malaika House, KUMSN, River Kids, Rileys in Uganda to name a few) that refuse to submit to the status quo of excuses and rationalizations that produce nothing but stalemate and compromise--and as a result, they're making a real difference to help families stay together. But the world desperately needs more.

And I'm not the only one who gets this. There are actually adoptive parents who get this, too--who don't put up a wall or get defensive or self-justifying--because they have been willing to see and admit to their part, their role in perpetuating a system that favors the rich over the poor. They're not afraid to admit to their initial ignorance and do something about it. They don't need constant praise and adulation because they get that this isn't about them. They get that they're not heroes.

Look, I realize adoptees' experiences run the gamut, and so also do the experiences of original mothers and adoptive parents. But that doesn't mean we ignore the truths deemed ugly in favor of the ones deemed pretty. The pretty ones receive plenty of positive attention and support. They're not in danger of being neglected and ignored.

Family preservation gets an aphid's share of the resources and attention while international adoption receives the lion's share.

If we all want adoption to truly be ethical, we all have to be willing to not only face the realities but also to do something to change them, whether that something is small or large doesn't matter as much as having the willingness to do it honestly.

The counter I hear most often is that we need to do something about the children currently in institutional care [duh]. First, read the preceding paragraphs again--meaning, get the idea that preventing children from ending up in institutions is doing something about it, and even better is preventing the development of and reliance on institutional care all together by establishing strong family preservation programs instead.

Second, that "something" is always assumed to be international adoption. It's true, there are children in institutions this very moment. But how about giving kinship care precedence--how about tracking extended family and attempting to resettle children with kin in their own countries? When that isn't possible, then how about developing the support and resources to establish local adoptions within the community?

You see, there are alternatives to international adoption, and they're even better in the long-term for the children, families, communities and nations as a whole. Rather than taking away their talents and gifts from their home countries and taking their home countries and origins away from them, why not help these children and communities to thrive locally?--so that international adoption can one day be a rare if not wholly diminished practice understood for what it truly is--a well-meaning but misguided and misinformed practice that has led to thousands upon thousands of children being uprooted and transplanted from those who have not to those who have...

* * *

As a related side note, how many of you would watch this video or the one featured below, and say to yourselves, these children would have been so much better off if they had been adopted to America rather than remaining in Uganda--because in America they could live in a big house with nice floors and pretty windows and have nice things and receive a higher education and so forth and so forth?

Now I'm not saying the situations in the videos are perfection, but they're progress and a step in the right direction...and at least these children were not shipped off like a novel commodity to live among a foreign people in a foreign land...

If you're going to say "love is enough," then let it be so not only when referring to adoptive families but certainly when referring to the original families--rather than the double standard that so often prevails...that is, love is enough when adoptive parents adopt but not when an original mother facing poverty, shame, and ostracism wants to keep her child...

Korean father looking for his son: Zachary K92-180 DOB Feb. 14 1992

2011-05-17T10:36:00.000-07:00

Name: Kim Joon Su 김준수
Adoptive Name: “Zachary”
Adopted to the U.S. through Holt
DOB Feb. 14, 1992

Pictured below at 8 and 9 months.

Zachary,

Your Korean father is looking for you. He did not know that you were sent for adoption and has been looking for you for years. Holt gave him these pictures and your first name, but not your last name. I have met your dad recently and he’s a really nice guy who works very hard. If this is you, please send an email to jjtrenka@gmail.com and I can translate a message for your dad and also give you more details.

* * *

For the entire post with photos click here or title above.

Why I haven't been blogging much as of late:

2011-05-10T11:08:00.001-07:00

The photos are explanation enough of why I have not been blogging much as of late. No doubt my hands, heart, and mind are full with getting to know one of the most amazing beings I have ever met. He makes me both weep and laugh like I never have before...

I Wonder: Song and Music Video by a Korean adoptee searching for his mother

2011-05-09T13:18:00.000-07:00

I cut and paste the following from GOWE's explanation of his song and video:

Ever since I discovered that I was adopted (at the age of 18), I've always wanted to write a song that captured my experience and gratitude toward my biological mother.

After performing this song for the first time at Kollaboration Seattle I was able to partner with key individuals to turn the song into a music video.

My hope is that this will one day reach my biological mother so that I could meet her. In a way, I feel like this is symbolically my 'message in a bottle' that I am casting into the ocean. Any help in sharing the video with your friends & family would be amazing.

Thank you to everyone who was involved in the making of this video, God is good and I am truly blessed!

- Gowe

Stories of Adult Transnational Adoptees and their American Parents

2011-05-04T11:34:00.000-07:00

Please consider participating in this research project, Stories of Adult Transnational Adoptees and their American Parents, led by a mother-daughter team of researchers.

There is a survey for adoptees and a survey for adoptive parents.

I completed the survey for adoptees in approximately 30 minutes, give or take. I'm looking forward to following this research, and I hope that as many as possible will choose to participate, because this type of research is desperately needed--and the more that participate, the more helpful and productive the research will be.

Feel free to pass the information along.

Website: www.transnational-adoptee-parent-study.webs.com
Facebook Page: http://www.facebook.com/#!/Stories.Adoptee.Parent
Adoptee Survey: https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/Stories_Adult_Adoptee
Parent Survey: https://www.surveymonkey.com/s/Stories_Adoptive_Parent

When you think you understand, but you really don't...

2011-04-29T07:00:00.000-07:00

(Yes, it's another dang long post...just think of it as getting a bargain for your buck...oh wait, this is free...well, then, it's an even better deal...)

I don't know what's more maddening and challenging to deal with--folks who don't understand and don't care to understand or folks who are convinced they understand but in reality don't understand at all. I've dealt with the latter frequently, and every time, I walk away feeling sick to my stomach, patronized, and dismissed. Nothing new of course, but nonetheless, hurtful and annoying.

Here's the thing, I do believe that through our collective sufferings we can work toward a certain level of understanding of others' sufferings. We can do our best to draw from our own lives to find experiences that help us to relate to or understand better the hardships and suffering of others, with a caveat, though--to also recognize that to understand better does not therefore mean we know what it's like to live in someone else's shoes.

As this relates to being an adoptee, it makes me insane when folks, especially adoptive parents, put up this wall of "Oh, you don't have to tell me, I know, I already get it, because I went through this or I went through that...so I know what it's like to be an adoptee..."

Or I can't tell you how many times, folks who are older than I am, have patronized me with variations of this statement, "Well, when you get older and wiser, like me, you'll understand better, and adoption won't have the same effect on you that it does today. I mean sure, it will still be a part of who you are, but ultimately, you'll get over it..." Due to their own life's hardships they presume that they know how my adoption experience will resolve (whether that's even possible remains to be seen).

Oh, really? Okay. Thanks for telling me how I'm going to deal with being adopted. I'm glad you know so well how to handle daily life as an adoptee. I'm glad you somehow know that being adopted is just like dealing with anything else in life.

Really?

Sure. Yes, sure. I'm sure that one day when I have to fill out papers at a medical office, I won't have to leave entire sections blank because I don't know my medical history (despite reuniting).

Right. And I'm sure when I look at family photos and see this short Asian person among a sea of tall, Nordic looking people, I won't be reminded that I'm adopted...every...single...time.

And I'm sure--despite the fact that every time someone asks me where I'm from or where my parents live, I'm reminded that I'm adopted--that one day, I'll just forget that I'm adopted.

Certainly. And the fact that I'm constantly surrounded by people who look nothing like me and who assume that English is my second language and harangue me for not knowing Korean will one day no longer remind me that I'm adopted.

I'll stop there, but the list goes on. I'm not playing the violin here, and I don't mean to sound acerbic (or maybe I do). And, as I've stated before, it's not a competition of who has claim to the most tragic sob story or who has suffered the most. I'm just trying to give some practicals to help folks see that being an adoptee affects every day life--and in ways that are unique to adoptees. I've written about it before several times--being an adoptee isn't just something that hangs out on the back burner, and it's not viewed by the general public accurately. It's constantly burning out in front of me, and I feel the heat all the time, even in the most mundane of activities that so many take for granted as uneventful and trivial.

Someone can make the most benign, seemingly unrelated statement or question that nonetheless reminds me and brings to the forefront the fact that I am adopted...and being in reunion actually emphasizes and complicates that fact even more so...

Are you visiting your family for the holidays? Where are you from? I'm just like my mom. I get it from my dad. What are you going to name your son? I love kimchi. Did your mom get really bad morning sickness when she was pregnant with you? Oh, you're Korean, I lived in Korea for three years back in the nineties. How much did you weigh when you were born? How long was your mom in labor with you? Oh, I speak Korean. Does this or that run in your family? Who do you look like? Wait, you're mom is white, huh? That's not your brother! How long have your parents been married? Do you have siblings? Do you have a big family? Etc., etc.

These questions are not wrong or insensitive. They're normal, generally harmless questions to ask. But that's exactly why they perfectly illustrate my point--for some adoptees, benign, everyday life can stir up deep emotions and responses that others might not anticipate or even bother to think about--not because others are careless per se, but because they're unaware, or simply indifferent or...they think they've got a grasp when they really don't.

It irks me when folks come along, especially adoptive parents, proclaiming that they understand fully what it is to be an adoptee. My insides bristle when someone claims, "I myself completely understand and know exactly how you feel because I [fill in with perhaps somewhat related but completely different personal experience of speaker]."

What would be a more truthful and accurate response is "I think I can relate somewhat emotionally due to my life experiences, but ultimately I realize I'll never know what it is to be an adoptee."

Look, yes, trying to gain understanding into the adoptee experience is a good thing. I'm not discouraging that. I'm not trying to create a Catch 22 for the non-adopted persons trying to connect with their adopted loved ones. I'm just making the point to please be honest and truthful about your understanding. We can tell when we're being patronized or when our feelings and experiences are being diminished. (And that obviously applies to a vast many other situations.)

And don't get me wrong, I appreciate when adoptive parents educate themselves and make efforts to understand. Doing so, I believe, is crucial and vital to the role of an adoptive parent. I want adoptive parents to inform themselves and do whatever they can to increase and deepen their understanding of the adoptee experience.

But it's a bit troubling when an adoptive parent thinks she or he knows exactly what it's like to be an adoptee, because this has real consequences for their attitudes and behaviors toward their adopted children. When you think you already understand, when you think you've arrived, you don't seek out further understanding. You get complacent. You stop educating yourself. You stop challenging yourself. And you refuse to listen to others because you already believe you've got it all figured out.

It's a sad thing to me when someone does not understand because they already think they understand. People in this state of mind are often the most difficult to reach--not only when dealing with adoption matters but with anything in life. And I suppose, in a way, it's a form of hypocrisy and ultimately arrogance or pride.

At least those who realize they don't understand and openly state that they have no desire to understand are not deceiving themselves. Yes, it still hurts when someone chooses indifference. But at least they know and you know, and there's always hope in the future that their hearts and minds may change, because they at least know where they stand.

But for those who are blissfully ignorant yet believe themselves to be blissfully enlightened, who already think they've got it all figured out, but actually don't? Well, honestly, I haven't figured out how to reach people like this other than to simply hope that with time something will bonk them on the head and turn on the light. And maybe I don't understand these types folks like I could...and that's just it--it boggles my mind that they choose to be so dismissive.

Until, then, I have to learn to be patient and manage my own emotions so that I don't become my own worst enemy or their worst enemy, because that wouldn't do a bit of good for anyone.

* * *

Ultimately, when it comes to responding to and comforting loss and the associated grief and pain, it's often a lot more simple than folks make it.

We don't need to be fixed...we don't need "wisdom" or a sincere but presumptuous attempt to provide "answers"...we don't need you to pretend to understand or to tell us these things happen for a reason...

What we often need is what an adoptive mother alluded to in a comment to one of my recent posts, "...And maybe all my daughter will need on some of these occasions, all she'll want is to be held and listened to..."

That's it--simply and sincerely, heartfelt compassion and a listening ear. That's often all it takes.

Sometimes compassionate silence is the most understanding, validating response you can offer.

The most "right" thing you can do may simply be to listen.

I'm not looking for someone to fix me or give me all the answers they think I want or need to hear. I'm not a problem that needs a solution. I'm a human who needs sincere compassion and validation--not pity, and not charity.

What I need is to be treated with respect as an intelligent, competent, mature adult--not some angry, bitter exception to the norm. And as a child, I needed the same, simply applied in a way appropriate for my development.

Now, is that really too much to ask?

Apparently, for some, the answer is "yes."

I cannot help but think of my Omma...

2011-04-15T06:01:00.000-07:00

As of late, I look at my son and cannot help but think of my Omma...

I am overcome with grief when I look at my son and think of the lost relationship between my Omma and me.

I imagine that day--the day she relinquished me--and now that I have my own child, a new darkness enlightens my understanding. I don't know how I would go on living were I to lose our son. I would live only as a ghost among shadows. But then, in some ways, that is how I have lived my life as an adoptee.

There are yet again no words to describe to you what I feel. All I can say is that I am overcome with grief. I have gained so much but at such a heavy price. My joy is inextricably interlaced with sorrow.

No mother should ever have to face such a grave and maddening choice. No human being should be counted among the worthless so much so that she and her child matter not to their own people to be cast out and forgotten.

People like my Omma and me cannot help but live as women who feel simultaneously blessed and cursed.

As I wrote to a friend who is a fellow Korean adoptee, I have stared down at CK so many times now, and have imagined how absolutely annihilating it would be to leave him as you and I were left...how precious and innocent and beautiful he is, and so all the more how to leave him now would darken and maim his little soul...

How can I not think of my Omma during this time? How can I not be fettered with grief and sorrow amidst joy and hope as I rock my son to sleep? How can I not shed tears of the deepest sadness as my son coos and smiles back at me? How can I not think of all the time lost with my Omma every moment that I am allowed to enjoy my son?

I hold him in my arms and stare down at his sweet face to be flooded with the reminder that my Omma and I were interrupted, ripped apart--that such tender moments were never ours to share...

Even though she remained with me for the first week of my life, even her joy was inevitably obscured by the grief of the knowledge that I was not hers, that too soon we would say good-bye, and both be expected to move on with our lives and forget...

But both she and I know, you never forget.

I'm an adoptee for whom adoption "worked out," and I'm not...I have a good life and I don't...

2011-04-14T10:08:00.000-07:00

(Er, I accidentally published prematurely again for those who might have noticed. My brain. No work. But here's the finished post.)

You know what? I have a good life--no, I have a great life.

Here's the thing, by most conventional measures, I am actually an adoptee for whom "adoption worked out." I'm exceedingly happy and more than content with my life. I have a rockin' husband, a beautiful son, and tons of family and friends with whom a mutual love is shared. My life is full of all the people and love that make life truly worth living and deeply meaningful.

It is this very fact, however, that is used against me as an adoptee. To criticize any aspect of my adoption experience is viewed as ungrateful dissent. And yet, if I were to express that I have had an awful life and am estranged from my family, this would also be used against me. Can't win for losing, or whatever.

If I say, "Yes, I love my parents and have had a great life," my criticisms of my adoption experience are viewed as ungrateful, bratty melodrama. But if I say, "No, I don't love my parents and have had a terrible experience," my voice is discounted as an exception resulting from "bad parenting."

Another Catch 22.

In my case, it's basically saying the end justifies the means. All the ongoing hardship, confusion, hurt, tension, conflict, etc. are negligible, because I am considered "successful" and "happy" in life. To discuss the complex realities of my situation that are not "happy" is written off as just another snooty, malcontent adoptee focusing on all the wrong things. I'm told that I am failing to "move on" with my life, that I am not showing appreciation for the good in my life.

You see, though, I do indeed recognize the good in my life--more than some, if I'll be so bold. You know why? In part, because I am also so keenly, intensely aware of the not-so-good in my life. I am so in touch with the pain, the sorrow, the grief that I am also profoundly in touch with the beauty, the joy, the hope that all characterize my experience as an adoptee. But it is not adoption that has given me the good in my life. It is the people.

You can say, Well, my dear, you would not have all these good people in your life were it not for adoption.

And I would say in return, No, I would not have all these people in my life were it not for being given away and ripped from my first family, my first home, my first country--my everything.

The good that has come to me came through tragedy. As has been said so many times before--an adoptee's life is first built upon the deepest of losses and griefs, and these losses and sorrows remain throughout life. Even some of the greatest joys in life--marriage, childbirth--arrive as instigators of that loss and pain.

As amazing and fulfilling as my life is, it is also just as much clouded, complicated, and darkened by the unavoidable losses and sadness that are inherent to an adoptee's lifetime journey.

Yes, I have a great life...but I also have a complicated life, fettered by the lifelong repercussions of one who lost her entire family and life according to the design and decisions of others--and is expected to be just fine with it all, void of a single question or criticism.

The Christian thing to do...?

2011-04-13T07:00:00.000-07:00

So, while I'm getting off the bandwagon and getting frank about my adoption experience and perspectives, I need to address another issue that I, and many other adoptees, face on a regular basis--

That good old premise, "The Christian thing to do..." And actually, surprisingly, I don't want to talk about it regarding adoptive parents, but rather as it applies to how adoptees who have a Christian background are expected to behave.

I have observed and experienced that adoptees who claim to be Christians or come from Christian backgrounds face an added burden of expectation atop the already existing expectation to unquestionably proclaim the Gratitude Gospel of Adoption.

It is as though an adoptee's faith, in the minds of other Christians, requires him or her to shut-up and sit down, to remain silent about the hardships of adoptee life--because that's "the Christian thing to do"--lest other Christians judge you as a faithless impostor should you question your adoption and the practice of modern adoption as a whole.

I feel it all the time. How many "Christians" have pulled away from me once they learn of my viewpoints regarding my adoption? Too many. I will say that, yes, I do encounter Christians here and there that truly open themselves to adult adoptees like myself--in fact I did just last night and felt refreshed by the PAP's humility and willingness to listen (Thanks, Ben). But people like him are unfortunately more the exception than the norm. It's easy to assume (there's that word again) that the handfuls of adoptive parents that comment or frequent adult adoptee blogs represent the majority, but that's simply not the case.

Ultimately, in my experience, the very ones who are supposed to be examples of love, patience, humility, compassion, and wisdom often shrink and slink away from me and other adoptees the minute we fail to uphold the beloved Gratitude Gospel of Adoption. We're lambasted if we even attempt to think critically about our own adoption experience and the current adoption establishment. I find it ironic that those who claim to follow a man who questioned the religious establishment of his time, condemn and avoid those who do the same.

They ask for our advice and insight but then when we speak candidly of our hurt, disdain, and criticisms, they react with condemning shock as though we've spoken blasphemy. (That is, IF they even ask for an adult adoptee's perspective.)

Adoptees of faith are expected to be at peace with dismissive answers like "It was God's plan" or "You're so lucky and blessed you were adopted," because there is an adoption subculture within modern churchianity that adoption is God's work and therefore cannot be questioned or criticized. As I like to say, what a load of Oscar Mayer. (See also Adoption & Choice: God's Plan or Man's Plan).

All adoptees have to deal with the Gratitude Gospel and the accompanying presumptuous, hurtful, ignorant comments (See also, "What not to say to an adoptee"). Adoptees of faith must further face yet another split of self, another push-pull conflict of identity as a result once again of the complex realities of being an adoptee. Not only must they deal with the inner turmoil of being caught between two worlds and two families within a society that dismisses their, our deep losses, sorrows, and griefs, but they must also somehow maintain a genuine faith in the midst of those who question not only their truth as adoptees, but their truth as adoptees of faith.

I'm not saying it's a tragedy or profound injustice, only pointing out that it's yet another way that adoptees must deal with burdensome and suppressive expectations, while our experiences and voices are yet again demeaned and rejected--and ironically enough, by those who claim to be the most loving of all.

Oh yeah, well ok then, shame on you for not being angry...("Uh-oh, I'm an angry adoptee" Part 2)

2011-04-11T07:00:00.000-07:00

If we're gonna play that game, then, I say shame on you if you don't feel angry or outraged by the "goings-ons" behind and within adoption.

To continue my rant from the original post, "Uh-oh, I'm an angry adoptee," here are some specifics on what makes me angry--for those who need a bit more clarity or are just curious, and certainly for those who can relate (in no particular order...and try to remember that I'm not the only one who thinks or feels these things, so that you don't mistakenly pigeonhole me as the self-indulgent exception):

I'm angry that the majority of my friends and family don't understand the complexities and realities of my adoption experience--that I can't even begin to talk about it without being immediately judged, condemned, corrected, and/or patronized.
...that I am not taken seriously because of the emotion I display. I'm angry that I must be a paragon of composure and pleasantry to at least be perfunctorily heard and by a slim chance taken seriously.
...that I am constantly caught in between. And that I am expected to be just dandy with that because I was "saved."
...when I express anger, everything else that I've ever said or felt is suddenly forgotten by everyone else, and I immediately become the one-dimensional "angry, unhealthy, toxic adoptee."
...that my words, emotions, views get twisted and perverted by others who refuse to hear what I'm actually saying because they think they already know me and all there is to know about adoptees.
...I can't just be angry without having to field everyone else's judgments and condemnations. I'm angry that I can't just be angry without others expecting a disclaimer or at least an explanation that will make them feel better. And it makes me angry that the anger I express obscures and discounts the grief and sorrow I feel.
...that being angry is treated as the cardinal sin by adoptive parents and the like.
...so many adoptive parents still refuse to acknowledge the role that international adoption plays in perpetuating the corruption in the adoption system. Similarly, I'm angry that so many AP's refuse to see the role that international adoption plays in perpetuating child abandonment and its root causes.
...that Korea and my Korean family rejected me when I was so helpless, powerless, and innocent. I'm equally angry that, despite that fact, I'm viewed as a traitor for still wanting to know and love them.
...certain adoptive parents view themselves as near saints and hence get defensive and dismissive when we (adoptees and others) address the imbalance and corruption inherent to the adoption system.
...about the deception and misrepresentation that adoption agencies continue to propagate to portray a grossly oversimplified and biased picture of adoption that is detrimental and hurtful to the families and children involved.
...that as one with a Christian background I am expected even more so to feel nothing but unquestionable gratitude, awe, and wonder about my adoption and am viewed as a misguided and heretical dissident if I express antonymous sentiments.
...I am viewed as an ungrateful brat or unstable miscreant for even thinking such thoughts or asking such questions.

But beneath the anger there is also hurt and pain that I, and so many others, are not understood, but rather that we are dismissed and further rejected as nuisances and blemishes or pitied as unfortunate apples gone bad.

And no, I do not refer to the pain and hurt so that you'll feel sorry for me and want to pat me on my head and say "there, there now." Just as I don't want to be dismissed when I express my anger, I don't want to be pitied or patronized when I acknowledge the pain. And no, anger is not a "cover" for the pain--it's a reaction to the injustices, wrongs, and willful ignorance that lead to the pain.

To sum it all up, as Amanda at Declassified Adoptee put it, "Loss, poverty, stigma, taboo, women, children, and family rights injustices....aren't those things people SHOULD be angry about?"

Uh-oh, I'm an angry adoptee!

2011-04-10T09:07:00.001-07:00

I'm so sick of the mantra that tells me, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, you have your losses, but c'mon, ultimately, adoption is wonderful! It saves children from orphanages, and it saved you and gave you a great life. So, c'mon, stop with the doom and gloom and admit the glories of adoption!"

Why am I supposed to rejoice over being adopted? Why does the fact that I have a great life discount and make negligible the pain and grief I experience? (And get a clue, people, the pain and grief never end, okay? Please, please, please, get that through your happy, cheery skulls. Please.)

Yes, I am blessed. I have a beautiful son, a wonderful husband, overall a great family (or families)--a really awesome life. That's one side of the inifinitely-sided adoptee experience. I also have a really sad, awfully complicated life with families that are divided and built upon loss, tragedy, and grief.

Why is it so inconceivable that I could love the life I have but hate how that life came to me? (ie, via adoption)

For those who focus solely on adoption "saving orphans from orphanages." You miss the point.

I get to keep my son because, why? Because I have the full support of not only my family, but of my society, culture, and if I needed it, even my government (well, I know some of that is being somewhat threatened, but that's not the focus of this blog).

My Omma--she didn't have any of that. She didn't have the support of her family and neither of her society nor culture, and, puh, certainly, not of her government. That's why orphanages exist--because she was not only too poor and alone, but she was also too taboo.

So, please, get out of my face with your reasoning that international adoption fixes things. It only adds to the problem. It has kept Korea from taking on responsibility for its people for decades. It maintains a status quo that is detrimental to not only families but to entire societies and nations.

I understand that adoption will happen. But it happens way too much, and internationally, it should never have to happen. It's the result of laziness on the part of a nation and its people and government. It's the result of ignorance and arrogance on the part of those who propagate it. Orphanages and international adoption are too easy. And for those of you who think they're the best and only options. Please.

Talk to me once you've actually done the research. And don't quote the orphan stats to me before you understand how those stats are obtained and what they actually include (or exclude, for that matter).

I'm not even as versed and educated on all the details as some of my peers, but that's just the thing--it doesn't take much to know enough to know that international adoption is broken and flawed.

I'm sure I'll hear it for all this. But just as what I've now ranted, it won't be anything I haven't heard before and won't hear again.

Just had to get that off my chest...again, but this time I'm mad. In fact, yes, I'm ANGRY. I'm an angry adoptee. Watch out, people. I'm dangerous. I'm a threat. My pain and grief, my anger and hurt are eve-veel and unhealthy and pathological and scary and toxic. I am poisonous to listen to and should be deleted at once. I'm such a blemish on the representation of adoption's beautiful face, and we must add a disclaimer that I am not the "norm" and that I am to be pitied and patted.

That's just crapilicious, people. Sure is. And I'll eat it right up.*

*And for those of you who are reading my blog for the first time or have only read it superficially, please refer to this post--before you assume to know me and leave a scathing comment about how I must hate my family or must be a miserable excuse for a human being--to spare yourselves from making an "a**" out of "u and me." Thank you.

I am getting off the bandwagon

2011-04-09T06:00:00.000-07:00

So, some may have noticed I've had a bit of a different tone recently.

Why?

I'm tired. The will and energy to put up niceties are waning, and I'm realizing that pandering and readjusting to suit the delicate internal balance of certain adoptive parents is self-defeating and has honestly begun to feel disingenuous.

I'm all about being respectful and open to others, but softening my voice to try to protect and win adoptive parents over has gotten me nowhere but in a hole where I feel suppressed and suffocated.

I am not here to serve adoptive parents' needs to feel validated that they are good people and are doing the right thing. I don't mind answering questions or having a civil, sincere, caring discussion, but I do mind being patronized and treated as though I'm a pathological idiot or as someone to be conquered or silenced or as that poor little adopted girl, we'll pretend to listen to so she feels better. I'm an adult, people. I'm a woman, not a girl. I'm closer to 40 than 30, which makes me "middle-aged"--so maybe that's a part of my shifting tone, also. I'm done with all the song and dance.

As a fellow adoptee commented, "The 'goal' is harm reduction on the adoptee, not protection of adoptive parent's feelings. It's like some of these AP's need to feel *loved* more than we do. The more you minimize/ignore the real issues, the more you'll produce problematic adult-adoptee's like me. It doesn't take a statistician." (Thank you, Scotched.)

I want Adoptive Parents to understand. I want them to open their hearts and minds to adoptees like myself and others that may offer a more critical and analytical, even emotional account of our adoption experiences. But I shouldn't feel as though I have to change my pitch in order for them to hear me. And I shouldn't feel like I have to spare their feelings at the cost of honesty. And honestly, that's how things feel these days--not only at my blog but throughout the blogosphere. The adult adoptees to which AP's are willing to listen are often of a certain tone. I'm not discounting such adoptees, but rather questioning why this is so.

How will AP's ever "get it," if they will only listen to those adoptees they deem as "healthy?" And how will AP's ever "get it" if adoptees like myself are not true to the truth of our experiences and feelings--even if that means alienating some?

Although I want unity and cooperation within the adoption community, such is false if concessions are made that betray the truth of the realities and complexities of adoptees and their forgotten mothers and families--and yes, that truth includes rage and disdain and resentment and bitterness at times--unfortunately, still treated as taboo emotions.

I'm not on a rampage, but I am getting off the bandwagon.

It's time to truly speak my mind, for the sake of not losing it, and for the sake of the truth and those who live it.

Adoption Ignorance Persists (but we're not surprised, of course)

2011-04-08T07:10:00.000-07:00

So, I receive a newsletter from a certain adoption agency that I'll simply refer to as AA.

This newsletter is the epitome of the "Gratitude Gospel of Adoption." It makes my stomach churn and my face burn every time I read it. But I read it because it helps me to stay in touch with what's going on in the adoption agency world.

And for those who believe that adoption isn't what it used to be and soooo much progress has been made, I beg to differ. I know it's just one newsletter, but its a newsletter sent out by a very large agency that's in 6 states and facilitates adoptions all around the world from Korea and China to Russia and India, Ghana, Haiti, Ethiopia, Honduras, even Japan and Hong Kong. So, it may be one agency, but it's reach is vast.

In particular, what makes me gag is the way the newsletter perpetuates the "ideal [or model] adoptee" stereotype. Every issue always does a feature article entailing the successes of an adult adoptee that has been adopted through AA. And of course, this adoptee is presented as a paragon for all other adoptees to follow--he or she is presented as the perfect poster child for the Gratitude Gospel of Adoption. I'm not naive--this agency is pushing adoption using these "model adoptees" to exemplify and uphold the expectation of "See, adoptive parents, your child WILL grow up to be a respectful, overachieving citizen of America teeming with gratitude and success to make you proud and glad that you adopted! So, tell your friends and send 'em our way!" Furthermore, the newsletter also always features adoptees who have graduated from college or high school accompanied by, of course, photos of beaming, smiling faces and their credentials.

These features are as if to say, "See, look, international adoption is great! Look at all these model adoptees making us proud and showing us how awesome and wonderful adoption is!"

Barf.

Poster Children for Adoption Unite. That's what it feels like.

Obviously, I have nothing against success and happiness, but this newsletter is clearly presenting only ONE very lop-sided side of the story. And it's the side that's all roses and picnics. It's like watching Fox News--for adoption. (I'm actually neither a liberal nor conservative, however, so don't assume too much from that statement. I simply mean that the bias is so thick and blatant it's equally laughable and deplorable.)

Additionally, this issue has an article giving "waiting parents" advice on what to do while they wait for the call. It is of course written by an adoptive parent. First of all, in the opening, the author refers to the "Waiting Phase" as "the hardest part of the entire adoption process." I couldn't help but balk at this statement. There are so many ways in which this statement demonstrates a LACK of understanding.

Secondly, in the author's list of seven "to-do's" during the waiting phase, she mentions things like spending time with your spouse, finishing education requirements (this one made me scoff), doing that one thing you've always wanted to do, and learning about your child's culture and country.

The author also advises waiting parents to talk with other adoptive parents so "You can learn valuable insights from parents who are already home with their children." Not a bad thing to do. I just wish that I could say that the author also advises waiting parents to talk with adult adoptees because they too offer valuable insights. But, obviously, no such mention.

It's that broken record again.

But hey, I'm just playing it like it is. I keep trying to get a new record in there, but most don't seem to care to listen much less do anything to change it.

Deflection: A choice weapon of defense among Adoptive Parents

2011-04-07T06:45:00.004-07:00

[I accidentally published this post prematurely--for those of you who might have noticed--but anyway, here's the finished post]

It is a pretty classic response these days for some adoptive parents to say that it's not "healthy" to listen to certain types of adoptees.

They also like to deflect and turn it around on the adoptee--that's the weapon of choice to silence us and "put you in your place." They might say something like, Puh, yeah, ok, Mrs. Adoptee, would you read a blog by an adoptive parent that went off on how adoptees are ungrateful little witches that need to shut their pieholes and get over it?

Uh, first of all, I don't need to read a blog to expose myself to such sentiments and perspective--I hear it all the time, unsolicited and unfiltered. Second of all, as a result of blogging, I get emails and comments that basically communicate the same. Thirdly, that has been the predominate and accepted attitude and response toward adoptees like myself since the inception of modern international adoption--unlike the predominate and accepted attitude and response toward adoptive parents of utter worship and adulation. OK, maybe not worship, but you get my drift.

But most importantly, such deflection ignores the real issue: a lot of adoptive parents still don't get it, and they'll employ a host of defense mechanisms to make sure that they can maintain the illusion that they get it when in reality they don't.

Turning it back on adoptees or making rationalizations like the one above demonstrates an unwillingness to acknowledge the imbalance of power, the continued sense of privilege that adoptive parents ultimately are the heroes and should not have to deal with the "negativity" of adoptees, and the responsibility that adoptive parents have to seek out the whole truth of the adoptee experience regardless of how painful or difficult it may be.

Look, I know being an adoptive parent comes with a lot of pressure and expectation, but no more so than what an adopted person faces, while the adopted person must also overcome the expectation, almost a culture, of suppression that surrounds the adoptee.

I'm not out to attack adoptive parents. But I'm also not here to ignore what I see and experience, and I'm certainly not here to make excuses for adoptive parents or for myself.

So, deal with it. I have to deal with adoptive parents on a daily basis, and I have to deal with being an adoptee in the larger society.

I'm just about fed up with all the fuss and gentleness, all the prancing and dancing that adoptive parents expect from adult adoptees. Although you may have experienced your own losses and griefs does not therefore entitle you to be a sanctimonious arbiter of adult adoptees and our voices.

Preventing Child Abandonment: Child's i Foundation

2011-04-06T12:00:00.000-07:00

Now this is what I'm talkin' about. This organization is doing it right. They're focus is preventing child abandonment in the first place and when necessary placing a child with extended family. When those options are not feasible they then focus on placing the child in a Ugandan family locally.

They truly believe that what matters most is a mother's love and commitment to care for her child more than any material possessions she may or may not have. This organization isn't just talk--they're doing it.

Please take a moment to check out Child's i Foundation/Malaika House in Kampala, Uganda. A donation of $16 (which all of us easily spend on coffee or eating out) can make a difference toward preventing child abandonment.

I'll grow up to be just like Mommy, right?

2011-04-02T05:00:00.000-07:00

Once I officially became a Chatham, I never looked back.

I never thought of Korea or of who my Korean mother or father might have been. I never fantasized about their appearance or whereabouts or imagined their distant pining for me. It never dawned on me to even entertain a thought about either one of them. As far as I knew, I had never seen them or touched them. I had no memory of either one. They were more like two people who had never existed. So, I forgot, or rather, it was more as though there was nothing to remember and therefore, nothing to forget.

I moved on.

I became the "typical little American girl” who attended school in ruffled dresses and shiny white shoes, who played with Barbie Dolls and Cabbage Patch Kids, who played dress up and tried to walk in her Mommy’s high-heeled shoes. I loved Minnie Mouse and Miss Piggy. My favorite fairy tales became Cinderella and Snow White.

During these younger years, I watched my Mom every morning with awe and anticipation as she sat at her vanity, curling her golden hair and lining her big blue eyes. I hoped to grow up to be just like Mommy one day—except for the fact that I had hair like obsidian, eyes like almonds, and a nose that didn’t slope, that I was not genteel or graceful and that I did not know how to maintain emotional serenity.

Although I had all but erased any awareness of my Korean origins, as I grew up as the only Asian among not only a family but a community dominated by White culture and standards, it did not take long before I began to encounter interminable reminders that growing up to be just like Mommy or like anyone else around me would require more than what I had to offer.

The Adoption Game: It's Craptastic

2011-03-30T13:02:00.000-07:00

Honestly, I do start to feel like I'm a messenger of negativity at times. I start to grow weary and burdened by my own observations and discourse. I want to tell myself, "Okay, okay, enough already, just shut the heck up."

I look at my life and all the good in it, and I can't help but wonder whether what others accuse me of is true--maybe I am a whiny, self-centered ingrate? I begin to doubt whether I have the "right" to ask the questions I ask, to say the things I say. I begin to almost believe the critics and doubters to the point of internalization, and in turn become my own worst enemy.

And especially as of late, these doubts are surfacing fiercely as I try to manage my relationships with my four parents, specifically in the context of the recent birth of our son. The doubts creep in as I begin to question whether all of this "enlightenment and awareness" are worth it--is this "adoptee awareness" worth the strain and turmoil it brings to my relationships with my family, whether openly acknowledged or harbored within.

It gets so complicated and messy trying to emotionally triage the conflicting obligations and desires I face from within and without as an adoptee, and in my case, as an adoptee in reunion. All the sensitivities and offenses to consider tempt me to just give up and return to ignorance. Well, obviously, in reality that's impossible--so, more accurately, I am tempted to stop trying to work toward authenticity and just play the adoption game--the game I've played most of my life, the game with which I am all too familiar and hence, uncomfortably comfortable, if that makes any sense. I know the rules, and I'm a seasoned player. So, it's easy to just jump back in.

And to be honest, I haven't actually ever completely given up the game. I still throw on the uniform and run back onto the field when things get tense or awkward. It's easier to me at this point than trying to deal with the penalties and repercussions of not playing the game, of not abiding by the unspoken yet unquestionably enforced rules and regulations.

Fellow adoptees know the game to which I'm referring. It is the game that requires you to be the happy, compliant, bright-eyed adoptee with not a peep of criticism or dissatisfaction to utter regarding your experience as an adoptee. It's the game that expects you to gloss over everything with a thick layer of sticky sweet high fructose corn syrup to make certain that everything you say and do is pleasantly palatable, especially for your parents and family.

The game where you smile and laugh and play along--pretend that you're okay with the current dynamic, as though you're okay with not expressing how you're really feeling or what you're actually thinking--better yet, fake as though you have nothing to say or feel that might question the status quo.

It's the game where I am expected to be solely grateful. It's the game where I cannot express equal loyalties and affection for both my American and Korean families. It's the game where the regulations dictate that I must avoid referring to my Omma and Appa as Omma and Appa and must refer to them as "biological mother" and "biological father." It's the game where all my hopes and desires for having a merged family must remain unspoken, buried, because such wants and expressions are almost heretical.

And despite how awful playing the game can feel, I still find it easier and less frightening at times, than the alternative, to simply concede and comply and take my position on the field--where everyone else, including myself, knows my role and what to expect.

Even now I wish I could go into more detail to elucidate more clearly the context. But what's the point? I already feel defeated, because I know I would absolutely get red carded and be thrown out of the game once and for all, never able to return. Why try to reason with the ref, coach, or other players when it's clear that their understanding of the game is inflexible?

And you say, well, that would be a good thing--go for it, get yourself thrown out of the game.

But in my case, at this point, it's not so simple, it's not so easy. It might not turn out to be such a good thing, because--as much as some of you may cringe and cry out "coward!" or "hypocrite!" --playing the game seems to be the only way I can be close to those I love...and I do love them, all of them.

Still, as far as "processing" and "speaking up" as an adoptee, I can't stop, despite the danger it poses to my relationships. I am compelled to press on even though I wonder why I do.

And yet ironically enough, as a result, I get so weary and so insecure, so full of doubt and uncertainty that it becomes easier at times to play the game than to fight for authenticity--despite the fact that playing the game is equivalent to choosing to be a hypocrite and a liar for the sake of maintaining a pretense that has caused me a lifetime of confusion and strife. Talk about contradicting myself. It's like I'm taking crazy pills (and too many metaphors).

Just another way in which being an adoptee--to borrow a word from my husband--is the most "craptastic" endless cycle of that wonderfully contentious state of quandary we all hate to feel-- Catch 22.

And there I go again--being "aware" as the "messenger of negativity"...I guess I just can't help myself...because I suppose I just can't stop being an adoptee, and more specifically, an adoptee who simultaneously loathes and embraces--well, of course--being an adoptee.

The Business Of Adoption Agencies From The Inside (A Korean American Adoptee's Perspective)

2011-03-30T07:30:00.000-07:00

If you have not already read this, it's a must-read. A former "insider" shares candidly about his years of experience as an employee, serving as adoption advocate and public relations, for one of the largest adoption agencies in the world:

Guest Post: The Business Of Adoption Agencies From The Inside (A Korean American Adoptee's Perspective)

"Yes, I love my parents"

2011-03-28T14:01:00.000-07:00

Before you assume--because I offer thoughtful analysis (and, yes, that involves critical thinking) of my adoption experience and otherwise...because I experience a complex mix of emotions that includes anger and sadness not only gratitude and warm fuzzies...because I acknowledge the flaws and imbalance inherent to the current adoption system--that I don't love my parents or that I don't view and treat them as my "real parents," or that I must be a miserable, unhappy, raging, bitter person who hates my life--

Please stop for just a minute and consider what my tenth grade geometry teacher always said--

Don't always assume you know, because it makes an a** out of "u" and "me."

And then perhaps take a moment to read through more than one blog post, and maybe even read the synopsis under the tab labeled "The Journey" or read through several of the posts in the sidebar under "Popular Posts," say, for instance, "I didn't search because I was looking for a new family" or "Do you regret that you were adopted?" or even venture to watch the video of my reunion with my Omma...

It's always more complicated than what you think you know.

Enough said.*

*Addendum to address other inaccurate a**umptions commonly made:

No, I do not despise fellow adoptees that love adoption.
No, I do not dismiss fellow adoptees that speak positively of their adoption experiences, rather I question the status quo that favors their stories to the neglect and dismissal of adoptees who present more complex experiences and stories.
No, I am not anti-adoption, but I am also not pro-adoption. Again, it's more complicated than that, at least it is for me.
No, I do not detest adoptive parents. But and besides, this ain't about you, remember?

Two Months Already!

2011-03-26T07:38:00.001-07:00

Yes, I am completely reveling in our son.

These are just a few of my favorite photos taken over the past two months. I love the bottom one--he looks like he's shredding the air guitar and wailing out hard core to ACDC or Black Sabbath.

It really does go by fast, and I know this is only the beginning. Our little guy has been here for two months already. Unbelievable.

He makes me laugh and cry and everything in between.

Love you, sweet pea.

Actually, my mom is white--so do you accept me now?

2011-03-25T06:00:00.000-07:00

I realized recently, as ironic and hypocritical as this is going to sound, that I find security in being able to tell other people that my Mom (Mom=American mom; Omma=Korean mom) is White, as though I will be more readily accepted and/or my perceived status will somehow be elevated once the listener knows this fact. It's as though I believe that since I am Asian having a White mom is necessary in order to legitimize my status and existence in the eyes of other Americans.

What made me realize this was a recent interaction I had with someone that asked me if I lived here in America. I proceeded to proclaim that not only do I live here in America but that I am a U.S. citizen, that my father is a retired naval officer, and that one of my brothers is currently serving in the army. I also made a point to mention that my Mom's first husband died in the Vietnam War, yet I felt compelled to clarify that she was not Vietnamese but Caucasian American. (And of course, all the meanwhile, I was also feeling guilty, conflicted, and purposefully misleading by conveniently omitting mention of my Omma, yet also feeling--or rationalizing?--that it would not be beneficial, helpful, or understood if I opened that can of demons in this particular conversation.)

I know, appallingly hypocritical on so many levels.

Yet although I felt ashamed that I went out of my way to mention all of this, I must admit that I also felt comforted that I was able to flash my "White Mom card" like credentials to silence this guy's doubts about my "American-ness."

But ultimately, this all reveals that I am just as influenced by prejudices and biases as anyone else when it comes down to it. It also reiterates how uncomfortable I still am, even as I approach 40, with my own Korean heritage. There is still a shame and embarrassment that I experience regarding the undeniable fact that I am Korean. Deep down it's still as though I think, believe that White is the superior skin tone and genetic inheritance, and that if I myself cannot look or be White then at least I can claim "White-ness" by proxy through my White mom and White family.

I am sobered and humbled by the ugliness that this look in the mirror has revealed.

Even with the birth of our son, I find myself inwardly consoled that he is not 100% Korean, but that he is also Mediterranean and Caucasian, or White. And then, I shake my head and scold myself for having such a thought.

Yet, conversely enough, there are other moments that I am compelled to reject my "White roots" and flash my "Korean card." Those moments are more rare, but increasing in frequency, especially now that I have reunited with my Korean family.

In a similar way, I find both relief and discomfort as an Asian woman married to a White man. Just as being able to claim my White mom makes me feel more accepted or somehow elevated, being able to claim my White husband does the same. However, on the flip side I also fear being perceived as the stereotypical "foreign Asian bride" who "connived her way into a White man's heart to escape an oppressive and empty life in my home country," accompanied by the matching stereotype that my husband married me, because he has some sick fetish for Asian women and their perceived image as exotic, compliant sex objects.

Overall, basically, I see that I am susceptible to doing what I loathe--when it is convenient or beneficial I find myself flipping back and forth in staking my claims to one or the other to manage my insecurities and legitimize or elevate my perceived status among others based on prejudices and stereotypes that pervade in American culture. (Wow, that's a mouthful of a run-on thought...)

It's ridiculous, I know. And it cries out hypocrite. But it's honest.

I know folks would say, and I even say it to myself, "C'mon, Melissa, you're over thinking it. Really you're both, you're not one or the other. Just let go of the perceived stereotypes and embrace the whole of who you are. Don't waste your brain space concerned with how others might see you."

Well, folks, I haven't quite figured out how to do, be, embrace both. And I have a hard time shaking off how others perceive me, because in reality their perceptions affect how they interact with and treat me.

So, for me at least, the overused cliche definitely applies--much easier said than done.

Although, I suppose one could argue that just by living each day I cannot help but do, be, embrace the different parts of who I am. But it's less a dilemma of acknowledging the different parts of who I am than it is of merging all these fractured pieces into a whole that, although may appear whole to outsiders, continues to feel painfully and irrevocably divided and broken...

But she LOOKS Korean...

2011-03-24T05:59:00.000-07:00

It is a complicated question, you know—when you ask someone, So, where are you from?

Seems simple enough. I'm from Dallas, Texas. Or…I was born in California, but I grew up in Chicago. Or…my mom grew up in Ohio but she's actually Brazilian, and my dad was born in New York but his parents came over from Ireland. They met in college and after they got married, they ended up moving to North Carolina, where I was born. But when I was ten, we moved to Atlanta. Then, well, they got divorced when I was sixteen, and I went to live with my mom in Florida because she had family down there. Now, I visit my dad and his wife in New York for Thanksgiving, sometimes. And my mom and her boyfriend live in Arizona.

This is a complex, often fragile, question these days—when you ask someone of his or her origins.

I never really know what to tell people, because I never really know for what exactly they are asking. Do they want to know where I was born? Are they inquiring in response to the color of my skin, the blackness of my hair, the shape of my eyes? Or do they want to know where I have spent most of my life?

In their minds, it is a very simple question.

However, a simple question does not indubitably produce a simple answer.

Honestly, I don't even really know what to tell people most of the time. So I just say, everywhere and nowhere.

Sometimes, an uninterrupted stream tumbles out in a single breath—Well, I was born in Korea, but I was adopted by an American family when I was an infant, and my dad was in the Navy, so we moved around every one to two years, so really, I didn't grow up in any particular region, but I'm basically American, because I was raised by Americans.

And I feel just as idiotic every time I blurt out my little synopsis of origin. I'm basically American, because I was raised by Americans? I make it sound as though I’m some kind of Tarzanette or the lone human infant raised by a pack of wolves.

But it all seems that complicated in my mind.

Do I view myself as Korean? Or more specifically, do I feel Korean, do I think like a Korean? Absolutely not. Especially when I am in the presence of “real” Koreans. I always refer to Koreans as "they," never "we." "They" are so nationalistic. "They" are so exclusive. "They" this, "they" that.

Now, do I view myself as an American? Or more specifically, do I feel American, do I think like an American? Perhaps, more so than I feel or think like a Korean. But even so, most often I refer to Americans as Americans. "Americans" are so arrogant. "Americans" are so spoiled. "Americans" this, "Americans" that.

Something in me wants to be identified with neither one. I do not want to be identified as the Korean. I do not want to be identified as the American. Yet, inevitably, I demonstrate characteristics of both.

But she looks so Korean, doesn't she? She doesn't act like a Korean though, don't you think? Or maybe you don't look Korean. But then you all look the same anyway, isn't that right? Where did you say you were from?

60% off airfares for adopters...?

2011-03-23T07:17:00.000-07:00

I guess most of you already know this. I, on the other hand, had no idea until this morning when a fellow adoptee happened to find out herself in a conversation with an adoptive parent-soon-to-be.

Adopters are given a 60% discount on airfare when they travel to the adopting country to pick up their children. How 'bout that? Very generous of the airlines.

I will say that there may be certain restrictions and limitations that apply, and I get the impression that it's not readily advertised. Also according to the link, the 50%-65% discount is applied to the child's airfare:

"This is when the adoption fare program may be a good deal because when parents choose the adoption fare, the child's ticket is 50-65% off depending on the airline and seating choice. These savings may help balance out the parent's expensive tickets."

(Please visit the above link for all the info.)

Now how about this for the suggestion box? May I have a 60% discount when I return to visit that country? Why not? It makes sense to me that it should go both ways. Discount to be transplanted, why not a discount to revisit the place of my birth?

Now I could see particular individuals of a certain sociopolitical bent replying, why certainly, and while you're at it, make that a one-way ticket, you ungrateful little thing.

And I would say, well, I didn't choose to come here in the first place, you ignorant...let me interrupt myself--

Where is this awful, acerbic tone coming from? I think I'm too tired and exhausted to govern myself. Oh well, I can't be that perfect, sensible, compliant, docile little Asian all the time...

i cannot save you

2011-03-15T06:20:00.001-07:00

Love
by Michael Konomos

i cannot save you,
but i will not look away.
or cover my ears.
part of me dies with you
but that is how i will remember.

our lives on the scales
we weigh the same.
i will carry this weight
and walk through the black
though we cannot walk together.

they will wonder why
i chose this way.
it is because you could not.

I [Michael Konomos] wrote this after seeing a story about a man that lost his whole family in the Japanese tsunami but somehow survived (if it can be called surviving), and another woman that lost her daughter but was able to survive holding onto a mat that floated by. I think of the countless people who were washed away and whose meaningful lives are just part of a body count now. It also makes me think about all of the other tragedies we have seen in recent years. We all wrestle inside about how to deal with them, whether or not to even watch or read about them, because it feels like too much. It's easy to numb out, especially when it feels like there is nothing we can do. Sometimes it feels like the best gift I can give, as pitiful and useless as it is, is to care and to remember. It doesn't make much sense to people, and maybe it is foolishly melancholic, but somehow it feels right to me.

* * *

Although written as a response to the recent tragedy in Japan, this poem speaks a truth that is universal...It is never useless or foolish to walk with those who grieve...to remember those who suffer such loss...to feel the weight of the tragedies of our fellow man...it feels right because it is right...

She's a Broken Record: Why talk about Adoptee Loss again & again?

2011-03-13T07:30:00.000-07:00

If you had been there to see my biological mother, my Omma, weeping uncontrollably, uttering over and over in the only English words she knew, "So sorry, so sorry...miss you...love you..." maybe you would more clearly understand the loss, the grief, the heartbreak of the circumstances surrounding adoption...

If you had been there when I, trembling with tears, asked my Omma whether she had ever had the chance to hold me, and then witnessed her being overcome with sorrow, sobbing, and barely able to speak as she whispered that she could not talk about that time in her life, because it was too painful, maybe the grief would make more sense to you...

If you had heard my biological father, my Appa asking for forgiveness, saying "It is all my fault," as he acknowledged to me, "I know you must carry deep wounds and much pain. Although I cannot heal them one hundred percent, I will do all that I can to help them to heal" perhaps the complexities of adoption loss would be more palpable, more real...

And yet, I am expected to feel nothing about the loss of my biological family, about the loss of a culture, an entire people and language, about the loss of a life--because I was a mere infant when I exchanged hands?

You would tell me, "But you have gained so much." I do not argue with this. In my case (but not in all), I have gained much.

Yet in order for me to gain my American family, both my Omma and my Appa had to lose a child. They had to lose a piece of themselves--and I had to lose a part of myself...

To acknowledge this is not focusing on the negative. Rather, it is acknowledging the whole reality, the whole truth about my adoption and the loss that had to take place in order for my adoption to happen. I acknowledge these losses no more and no less than I acknowledge the family and the life that I gained.

I appear to talk about the loss and grief to a greater extent, because it is this side of adoption that is so often neglected, rejected, ignored--because it is the painful side. It is the side that no one likes to ponder or acknowledge. But one-sided thinking denies the very nature of what it means to live. Life is rarely one-sided.

It is simply that, in my opinion, there are many more layers and sides to adoption than what receive due acknowledgment.

Understand that grieving what I have lost does not therefore mean I am regretting what I now have.

But can I not feel more than one emotion, share more than one thought at a time? And can I not view my situation as complex, because, well, it is?

To know what one has gained, one must also know what has been lost. The converse is also true--to know what one has lost, one must also know what has been gained. These are not mutually exclusive experiences. They function together.

* * *

I know, I take up quite a bit of blog space discussing "adoption loss," repeatedly.

If I had the sense that very few people contested the validity of adoption loss, then I would not feel it so necessary to continue to discuss the topic. But alas, the issue of adoption loss and the associated grief still remain an often "debated" topic among adoptees, adopters, and the general public.

So, I continue to try to provide insight and examples with the hope that something will break through to those who still disbelieve adoptees' claims to loss and grief.

I have heard the complaint before that adoptees are no different from other groups who get singled out or are "misunderstood." In other words, why are we crying a river--we're no more misunderstood or different from the other sub groups in society who endure comparable suffering.

Sure. I have never said otherwise.

My point is not to try to make the plight of adoptees appear to outweigh those of other misunderstood or under acknowledged groups.

This is not a competition for who has the greatest sob story. But each sob story often has its unique set of circumstances and complexities. It is crucial to understand these distinctions for not only practical but for humane reasons.

Compassion cannot be present when understanding is absent.

In most cases in which suffering or deep loss have taken place, the general population recognizes the consequences and responds with appropriate compassion and understanding or outcry and outrage. A wife loses her husband to war. A husband loses his wife to cancer. A child is abused at the hands of a caretaker. An African-American man is beaten without cause by a group of police officers.

A main distinction in adoption, however, is that adoptees, unlike the aforementioned individuals, are often expected to ignore and deny any emotions or grief that we may experience related to our experience of adoption. We are not "allowed" to grieve, and folks look at us as though we're crazy or ungrateful if we do. Or the loss and pain are treated lightly like a scraped knee or stubbed toe--the initial injury is acknowledged and tended to superficially, but then everyone moves on, and it becomes a "remember when" story--remember that time you scraped your knee...stubbed your toe...so glad you're all better now...

Other groups of people who have suffered or endured deep loss are often not treated in the same way (of course, there are additional groups who experience a similar lack of understanding and compassion, but that's a whole other dissertation...).

Again, I'm not saying that therefore our "cause" has more value or should win a prize. I am simply attempting to explain why I spend so much time on my blog trying to address adoption loss and grief--or as some would say, "the negative side of adoption." No one contests the loss and grief experienced by a husband who has lost his wife to cancer or a child who has been abused.

However, adoptees consistently have to field questions from skeptics and doubters--often almost as though we are being incriminated.

This complicates matters for adoptees who have the need to grieve and process our circumstances at a greater depth.

Being told that you should not be grieving or should simply "be grateful and move on" makes it all the more difficult to get resolved and come to terms with our situations. It's demeaning, patronizing, and simply not helpful.

Can you imagine telling a friend who has just miscarried "it happened for the best" or telling a co-worker who has lost his brother "it was meant to be?" I would hope not. But that's essentially what it feels like to adoptees like me who are trying to process our losses amidst a mob of voices telling us to "just let it go" or "to be more grateful" or "more positive."

Look, I never have a problem telling myself I need to be grateful. I never have a problem seeing all the good in my life, which sometimes makes what I have to face all the more maddening. Don't you think I already feel guilty for feeling sad, for grieving? I already have to overcome all the internal conflict, apart from the outside "feedback" I receive. Don't you think I've had to suffer through feelings of betrayal, of fear of hurting my American family? You don't know how many conversations I've had with my husband, tormented and in tears, about how selfish I feel, how conflicted I feel.

And for what? For wanting to know the most basic and fundamental knowledge--who I am, from where I come.

Why is it so criminal, treacherous for an adoptee to want to know these things? Implicit in this accusation is that I don't deserve to know, that I am somehow less of a human being who should simply be grateful that someone was willing to take me in when my own people would not. Implicit in this expectation is that I am supposed to be satisfied with not knowing because I may have died or ended up on the streets if someone had not adopted me.

What a load of Oscar Mayer.

If someone wakes up the next morning to discover that her right arm is suddenly missing and she does not know how or why, can you blame her for then proceeding to find out what happened with the hope of getting her right arm back, and if not, then at least figuring out how and why it happened?

Now, imagine losing an entire family, an entire people and not knowing how or why. Why is it so bizarre that one would grieve such losses (even if such losses happened when one was an infant, that infant will grow to become an adult who will inevitably grow to understand the implications of having to be adopted...)

* * *

Now with all that I've just expressed, I know I must include the following proclamation to appease and silence those who would accuse me of not loving my American family: The above discourse does NOT therefore nullify or invalidate the affection and love I feel for my Mom and Dad and my brothers. It simply adds to it...It simply begins to fill in missing pieces to the puzzle.

To understand the grief, you must understand that it is NOT my American family over which I grieve. It is not the life I have now over which I grieve. I love my husband. I love my American family. I love my friends. Overall, I have a fulfilling and meaningful life full of love and everything that truly matters. But the point is that I can acknowledge all of this yet still experience the pain and loss, the grief and sorrow of what had to be lost in order for me to have this life.

What I grieve over are the circumstances, the tragedies that transpired that made it necessary for me to have to be adopted. What I grieve over is the fact that my Korean mother felt trapped and forced into giving me away, when she wanted to keep me. What I grieve over is the fact that my biological father had no idea that I had been sent away to another country until it was too late. What I grieve over is the loss of my own flesh and blood...

I think to grieve over such circumstances is natural, because they not only had profound consequences for my life then, but they continue to have profound effects on my life today.

There are those who would tell me that I dwell too much on the past or that I am allowing my life to be driven by loss.

Again, this demonstrates to me a failure to grasp the reality that I spend countless words trying to make clear. I am not "dwelling"--I am simply trying to understand the past so that I can live a fuller, richer, more complete life in the present. And it is not that my life is "driven by loss." It is that the life I currently have began with and was subsequently built upon loss. The primary reason I live here in America, that I have my American family, my American husband, my American life is because I first had to lose everything.

If you had to lose everything to be where you are now, I do not believe that you would ever forget nor do I believe that the wounds and suffering from such losses would ever cease to inform and influence your life in ways both more obvious and more subtle than you could even fully grasp.

And if you say, Well, actually, Melissa, I do know how it feels to lose everything, then I would say in response, let such memories and experience teach you compassion, and then perhaps, you will be well on your way to recognizing the reality and complexity of the loss, grief, and pain experienced by an adoptee...

I Believe in Signs

2011-03-08T08:15:00.000-08:00

Here's the link (or click on the title above) to my monthly post over at the adoption website, "Grown in My Heart."

Think adopted children are too young to experience or be aware of the dissonance, confusion, loss, and displacement that come with being adopted? Think again...

Here's an excerpt from the opening:

Recently, initially due to my husband’s insight, I had somewhat of a revelation–although it will seem dumbly obvious to some of you. Yet this “epiphany” reaffirms in my mind that as a very young child I was not only acutely aware of being adopted but I was already heavily processing my adoption and experiencing the accompanying dissonance and confusion of identity–even though it did not appear obvious to my parents, or to me, for that matter...

The New Generations of Adoptees Have It All

2011-03-07T06:59:00.000-08:00

Of course the title of this is a little tongue & cheek--well, that is, depending on your personal perspective.

Some read the title and vigorously nod in agreement. Others read the title and feel frustration burning within. And still others react somewhere in between.

Recently, as I was corresponding with a fellow, but much younger adoptee, I realized something that might have been obvious to many of you (but was not initially to me). The upcoming generations of adoptees in some ways face an even greater pressure to submit to the "gratitude gospel of adoption."

What do I mean?

In short--"You newer generations of adoptees have so much more available to you than those who came before you, so really, you shouldn't have any major issues" or "Things are different today--adoptive parents know the realities now. Your parents have it on right this time, so you kids adopted in more recent years won't have the same issues as your predecessors."

I think today's adoptees are often viewed as the benefactors of the perceived progress in the adoption community: culture camps, heightened awareness and knowledge on the part of adoptive parents of the issues adoptees face, more acceptance and openness to the adoptees' origins and original mother and family, etc.

These factors do in fact represent a change in resources and awareness from what was available or understood when I was growing up. But, the presence of these factors does not change what will always be true--being adopted comes with deep lifelong losses and grief. And culture camps for adoptees and education courses for adoptive parents don't change that inherent truth or somehow make the hardships of being an adoptee magically nonexistent.

However, as the perceived benefactors, the newer generations are expected to, well, benefit and hence I think at times are expected to suffer less consequence and trauma. I'm not saying these changes don't benefit adoptees. I am simply stating that they are not a "cure." And their development has the potential to backfire by placing another layer of unrealistic expectation on not only adoptees, but on adoptive parents and original mothers.

The availability of camps or searches, etc. does not inevitably mitigate or counteract the pain and loss that come with being adopted. Yet, I think there can be this perception, this unspoken expectation that the newer generation of adoptees has it all and should be free of the heartache and trouble that can characterize the experience of earlier generations of adoptees like myself.

"We know so much more now than we did before..." This is true.

But what we know needs to be managed in a way that continues to acknowledge and validate adoptees--both earlier and newer generations--not to obligate or consign adoptees to more of the same.

The goal of "progress," in this case, is not the eradication of loss and grief--that's completely unreasonable--but rather a prevalent, sincere acknowledgment and understanding of the loss and grief (and the accompanying suffering and hardship) that reaches so far and so deeply that it it is viewed not as anomaly or neurosis but rather as the norm--not to allow the suffering to overtake us but that it is finally met with the compassion and acceptance that grief and pain long for and need in order to heal...

* * *

John Raible wrote a series of entries that happens to relate to what I discussed above.

Haiti, one year after the earthquake - reuniting children and families

2011-03-06T07:48:00.000-08:00

Now this is what I'm talkin' about!

The International Rescue Committee dared to take on "the complex, painstaking job of tracking down and reuniting these separated families" and as a result has successfully reunited more than 1300 children with their families since the devastating earthquake in Haiti. Read the entire article at the link below (or click on the title above):

Haiti, one year after the earthquake - reuniting children and families

It's easy to be a heretic

2011-03-02T08:16:00.000-08:00

My little rant for the day: It irks the snot out of me when folks conclude that adoptees and original mothers have no right to think critically about adoption. It's indicative once again of how others often view first moms and adoptees in a condescending and patronizing way, completely ignoring the emotional and social complexities of our situations. Even more maddening is when it's our own fellow adoptees and first moms that do this.

The above "rant" was inspired by an insightful observation (and the discussion that ensued in the comments section) made by Ashleigh at her blog, Not Just A Birth Mom. Ashleigh wrote:

People recommend that you do not separate a puppy from it's mother for at least six weeks.... This is for the overall physical and emotional health of the mother and the puppy..... So why is it that when it comes to human infant adoption, we try to remove the babe from its mother as he is drawing his first breath? Why is it that we can't extend the same courtesy to a MOTHER and her CHILD that we do to a DOG? Just a thought.

One of the readers, another birth mom ironically enough, responded to Ashleigh's observation with the following:

I used to have quite a bit of respect for you. Now I am finding your posts to be frustrating. You are sitting here bashing on the same thing you did TWICE! If you didn't support it why did you carry the same thing out twice?? Just wondering.

First of all, Ashleigh was not bashing adoption, but rather offering an honest and valid inquiry. Second of all, why does her status as a "birth mom" prohibit her from thinking critically about the practice of adoption? Again, it's the whole, what I call, "gratitude gospel of adoption." Adoptees and birth moms if not completely neglected in the first place are resigned to only being allowed to feel nothing but gratitude and unequivocal warm fuzzies for adoption. Anything else is treated as heresy. But the "plight" of adoptive parents is generally met not only with understanding and compassion but is also lauded as a noble, living martyrdom.

I'm not bashing adoptive parents nor am I saying that they've got it easy. Being an adoptive parent certainly comes with its own set of issues. But I've said it before, and I'll say it again--the current status quo is one that favors and upholds adoptive parents as the unquestionable heroes while it ignores, at best, and demeans, at worst, adult adoptees and original moms that question past and current adoption practices.

As I stated in response to the referenced reader's comment:

Lordy, people, there's nothing wrong with healthy, constructive criticism or asking questions based on honest observation. And the last time I checked nothing in this world is perfect, especially the practice of adoption.

My adoption situation is good overall but that doesn't mean I don't have a right to analyze and criticize it honestly, not to be a poopyhead, but for the sake of reform and positive change...

Thank you, Ashleigh for making this observation. It's a very insightful point. If we show a mother dog & her babies that much consideration & sensitivity, it stands to reason we should show even more to our fellow human beings.

And as Amanda (The Declassified Adoptee) responded, "What in the world is wrong with what she [Ashleigh] wrote? Why is it so heinous to discuss what might be healthier for mother and child that might not be currently suggested and respected in adoption."

Exactly, Amanda, what's so heretical about wanting to consider what might be best for a mother and her child? Apparently, everything BUT a mother giving her child up to be raised by a set of complete strangers.

Now, if that's not irony, I don't know what is.

The human infant

2011-02-25T08:39:00.000-08:00

Our newborn son is going on one month. As I learn to care for him, I am dumbfounded, startled, overwhelmed by how utterly helpless and dependent he is. I dare to observe that there was never a more vulnerable, more fragile little being than the human infant, and particularly the newborn.

How desperately he begins to whimper or wail as soon as he realizes he is no longer in my arms or on my lap...that there are no other warm embraces or soothing voices that seem able to comfort him as do mine or my husband's.

And yet, still it is commonplace for people to continue to presume that being adopted as an infant, or more accurately, being separated from one's own mother as an infant somehow diminishes or even nullifies the loss and grief of such an event and the ensuing lifetime consequences.

How anyone concludes that being an infant at the time of relinquishment and adoption indubitably prevents or somehow negates and neutralizes, some would even suggest, counteracts the consequences of such losses is even more perplexing and disturbing to me now than it was before--as I experience my own newborn firsthand.

How can any mother or father or fellow human who has ever cared for a newborn or infant so casually dismiss how profoundly consequential separation from one's mother would be, is?

My son knows me. Our bodies know one another. Our sounds and scents know each other. Our skin, our touch. And although if, God-forbid, he were to be separated from me now and forever (I can barely stand such a thought without going into tearful convulsions), it's true that he would have no tangible memories of me--and yet, I still have no doubt that he would feel the loss of such a premature and unnatural separation for the rest of his life...as have I, emotionally and physiologically.

And certainly, as his mother, I would be haunted by an insatiable emptiness and deep sorrow for the rest of my existence. How abysmal and vast the abyss of grief and angst would be. And yet, how often the consequences experienced by the mother who has lost her child in this way are ignored, denied, disregarded.

Sure, my assessment is emotional and subjective. Yet, are we not human beings? We are not quantities and statistics to be assessed and evaluated (although such measurements have their place and value, they cannot be our sole resource when it comes to the human experience).

There is indeed a place for emotion and subjectivity, and if not among and within the losses and griefs of humanity, then where?

To me, it should be obvious and even logical that a person separated from his or her mother and subsequently adopted as an infant would experience both undeniable short-term and long-term consequences. The fact that when I was a child and up through young adulthood, I, myself was someone that proclaimed I was unscathed by adoption should have been an indication of something askew rather than something aligned.

And yet, if I do not quote research and study upon study, my perspective, my experience is considered nothing but childish and inconsequential anecdote. Everything must bow down to science and its methods. Again, I love science and furthermore, my degree is in the science of psychology.

But it saddens me that the heart is no longer treated as worthy evidence.

Still, I cannot honestly look at my son as I hold him in my arms or watch him sleep or nurse, and coldly conclude that his life, his being would not be affected, changed, altered in profound ways were we to be torn apart...

And hopefully, he will never know such grief...

Our son is here...

2011-02-15T08:30:00.000-08:00

Just a very short post to announce that our son is finally here!

He was born about 2 weeks ago, after a long and tumultuous labor, on a Saturday morning. We spent a week in the hospital while he was treated for a pesky, persistent case of jaundice (although, I joke that the dude is half Asian and a quarter Greek, so he's always going to have a little tinge of yellow and olive, eh? *smilewink*)

I'm so in love as I wander through his face and every little sound and moment...as I try to find my way through this new life, this new beginning...as my husband and I enter into this profound adventure...

For now, I am content and mystified to be lost in his world...

While I allow myself to be lost from the outside world, I am being found in a world that was once lost to me yet is now being slowly yet beautifully rediscovered, as though for the first time...

And really to lose oneself is to find oneself...

Or it could just be the misty nebula of oblivion and confusion brought about by severe sleep deprivation and constant feedings...Ha.

Where are the adoptees voices? (by Raina @ GIMH)

2011-02-14T07:43:00.000-08:00

Some of you have already read this post. For those of you who have not, I hope you will. I can relate to almost every word Raina wrote.

Excerpted from Raina's post at Grown in My Heart:

For an entire diaspora who has never had a voice, speaking out not only feels dangerous, but also indulgent...

...Don’t forget, those of us adopted from Korea and China have also carried that greatest expectation of earning that “most likely to succeed” title. Against all reason, I personally seem to live out my days trying to earn this life I’ve been handed. Whether I wanted it or not.

Kidnap or rescue? Book review of ‘Babies Without Borders’

2011-02-13T09:14:00.000-08:00

Dr. John Raible, both an adult adoptee & adoptive parent, provides not only an insightful & truthful review of an adoption-related book by Karen Dubinsky but of the adoptee experience...

Excerpted from Dr. Raible's review:

Adopted individuals spend much more time living with the consequences of their adoptions in adulthood than as children. When Dubinsky refers to adopted individuals as 'adult adopted children' (p. 129), she underscores their status in the minds of many as perpetual youngsters who are never quite allowed to grow up...

Whereas Dubinsky muses, “Perhaps the only figure more popularly symbolic of global inequalities than the American tourist in the Third World is the American adoptive parent in the Third World” (p. 120), one could reasonably argue that it is the transnational and transracial adoptees who more accurately embody the very power imbalances Dubinsky explores so lucidly in her book. After all, we are the ones who crossed borders, and in doing so, forfeited languages, ties to our families of origin, and cultural heritages, even as we simultaneously gained the enormous privileges typically reserved for middle class families in the First World. In exchange for material and educational gains, we were required to sacrifice our birth citizenship and sever ties to our original extended families. As the disempowered subjects of a crisis intervention, which is, after all, what adoption is, we had no say in the decisions to migrate or be adopted, yet we frequently hear how lucky and grateful we should feel. Moreover, once adoption was done to us, many of us were then forced to endure overwhelming racism as we single-handedly integrated the all-white neighborhoods in which our well-intentioned adoptive parents raised us.

For the entire review click on text above or click here.

I'm letting go...

2011-01-22T07:00:00.000-08:00

[I wrote the following on January 5, 2011]

Over the months, something within me has been building or dismantling, whatever way one wants to view it. I feel as though I have been living life harder and fuller than ever before--feeling and thinking, experiencing and encountering, to the deepest depths and to the highest heights.

And with that, I think I am ready, or just about, to let go.

Let go of what?

I'm ready to let go of the pain.

Scary words to utter--that is, at least for me. Frightening, really. And I'll explain why, for me, the "letting go" of the pain associated with my adoption is a scary thing, and even exactly what the "letting go" means, because I have no doubt it will be misunderstood and misinterpreted by many.

First of all, let me state what I DO NOT mean. When I say that I'm ready to let go of the pain, it does not mean that the pain is gone. It does not mean that the pain doesn't still affect my life. It does not mean that somehow magically I've "gotten over" it all. And it does not mean that suddenly I love being adopted and think it's the most fabulous thing to come along since the horseless carriage.

It does not mean that I will no longer need to talk about the pain or feel the pain. It does not mean that I still don't cry about all that has happened and continues to unfold. It does not mean that I feel as though I am finished or that I have arrived. It does not mean the journey is anywhere near completion. It does not mean that I no longer deal with the ongoing consequences of my adoption. And it certainly does not mean that everything is now resolved with my Korean and American families.

What I do mean is that I am ready to allow the pain to no longer threaten or control me. I am ready to accept the good and the healing as well as the pain and the sorrow.

I think for a while now, I have needed the time to dwell in the pain, in the sorrow, because I have needed the time and the opportunity to grieve--unabashedly, without constraint. I was and have been denied all of my life the "right" to grieve, to deal with and face the pain and sorrow. And even still there are those who continue to deny me--but, I am ready to let go of them, too.

And now, after having time to seize the grief and finally making it my own, I feel that I can finally be at peace with it. Being at peace with the pain, however, does not mean that it is gone or that it does not still affect who I am and who I am becoming. The pain will always be a part of me. The sorrow and grief is always in me and with me. But it is not all of who I am, and it is not what compels me to live.

Yet the reason I fear letting go of of it, and even more so attempting to share this with all of you is because of the danger of misunderstanding and misinterpretation that likely comes with expressing my desire to let go of the pain.

I've had enough encounters with folks who say things to me that discount and invalidate the depth, intensity, and longevity of the pain, sorrow, and grief inherent to being an adoptee. By expressing I am ready to let go of the pain, I fear that doing so will only increase such ignorance and presumption.

I fear that by letting go of the pain, adoptive parents and the like will use it against us--against adult adoptees--to justify adoption by saying the ends legitimize the means.

I can hear it now--sighs of relief among adoptive parents and the like, brushing their brows with the backs of their hands, thinking to themselves or uttering softly, "Thank God, another adult adoptee who finally came around, got over herself, realized all the good adoption does."

Or, "See, Melissa, everything has worked out great for you. It all came out in the wash in the end. Sure, you've had some hardship. But ultimately, you were adopted into a great American family, and later, when the time was right, you got to reunite with your Korean family. Now, the picture is complete. The void is gone. Your family is coming to completion, especially now that you have an amazing husband, a son only days away, and an amazing life. We're so glad you finally realized all that adoption has done for you!"

Again, this is NOT what it means to let go of the pain. And this is not what adoption is or ever will be for me personally--an end to justify the means.

I know this sounds harsh and judgmental to some. I do not intend it to be that way. To be clear, for me personally, adoption is not solely evil. I am not purely anti-adoption.

However, when others frame adoption in such a way as to dismiss the loss and the grief of the original mothers and adoptees affected or to discount or even justify the circumstances and questionable practices that often lead to adoption, because they believe the "end results" are all that are worth considering or all that matter, not only is my heart pained, but I believe that to do so is dishonest and cruel.

Ultimately, I know folks won't understand what I mean or where I'm coming from--they'll interpret what I say as they wish. And that's in part, why at times, I just want to walk away from trying to share my experiences and views--because they get twisted, warped, and picked apart in ways that I never intended.

But again, that is part of the letting go for me--to understand that just as the pain will always be with me, so also will the misunderstandings and misconceptions.

I'm sharing this both for others and because it is emancipating for me. And I'm sharing it ultimately, because I know what I mean, and I am beginning to feel more and more secure in that, regardless of what others imply or assume. And then, of course, there are the few who actually do understand, and they are a great comfort to me.

Furthermore, and perhaps more importantly, I am sharing this, because I want our son to grow up with a mom who is secure--who isn't driven by her pain, but rather is driven by her hope--the same hope that Helen Keller so concisely yet powerfully expressed, because, well, the woman lived it:

"...although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it."

Meaningful words written by someone who knew what it was to suffer, who knew what it was to be trapped in darkness, who knew all too well what it means when life is unfair and circumstances beyond one's control take away what every human takes for granted...and yet, she overcame.

I want to overcome. But overcoming does not mean forgetting. Overcoming is not one-sided. It is complex. Overcoming the pain, the grief does not mean ignoring it or discounting it--no, rather, it means embracing it and recognizing that it will always be there. And yet, it need not threaten me--not any longer.

It need not be something I try to control or suppress or minimize or hide.

And that's what I mean by letting go of the pain--to no longer fear it, to no longer be uncomfortable with it, to no longer try to control it, but simply to let it be what it is.

And I suppose by letting go of the pain, I am also letting go of the fear, ultimately. Pain often causes fear, and in healthy amounts both can help us.

But when pain and fear become so overwhelming and so dominant that they take over one's life and obscure everything in darkness, then they have lost the glory and beauty of their purpose.

So, I am ready--although I will still feel fear, I am ready to no longer give way to fear--to no longer fear that those I love will leave me, to no longer fear that those I love will be taken from me, to no longer fear that I was never enough.

Not that these things cannot happen, but that I need not fear should they happen, because what has made me weak has also made me strong. What has alienated me and isolated me has also surrounded me and filled me--with a depth and richness of life and people that although at times I forget, I cannot deny.

And again, I want my son to be able to grow up trusting that he can overcome his fears and his pain, that he can overcome the injustice and unfairness of life--not by ignoring it or by suppressing it, but by facing it, embracing it, and allowing it to teach him that he can make a difference in this world.

I don't want him growing up with a mom who is always afraid, because she is ashamed of her pain, of her sorrow, of her story. Conversely, I also don't want him to grow up with a mom who is too proud and so calloused, because she has chosen to harden her heart and deny her pain, and hence, the pain of others.

Rather, I want him to have a mother who although knows pain and shame and sorrow, she also knows healing, redemption, and hope. I want him to have a mother who lives life with certainty--not a certainty that life itself is certain, but a certainty that life is worth living and feeling deeply and fully, whether it be pain or joy, tragedy or victory. I want him to know he need not fear neither the heights nor the depths of life, but that he can face them honestly and truthfully.

And that is what it means, to me, to let go...

And that is the truth that I hope our son will grow to know and to trust...

"You need to grow up...I feel you have no gratitude for the good in your life"

2011-01-20T14:20:00.000-08:00

Everyone is entitled to their opinion and this woman's opinion, I suppose, is just as valid as is mine. I am not surprised nor unaware that there are plenty of other people, APs and adoptees and others, who would echo the following sentiments and opinions regarding me as an adoptee. (The below comment was written in response to my post, "Not Luck But Choice" at the adoption website, Grown in My Heart, but it was not permitted to post there.)

I don't even have anything to say really. Maybe I am an ungrateful, whining little girl. And if I am, then God help me to change...

All I can say is that I feel crushed, maybe because what the commenter said might be true or maybe because I'm just too weak to handle the scrutiny to which I expose myself. And maybe I just need to shut my trap and finally walk away...especially being only 6 days away from the estimated due date of our child.

The one thing I will say is that this person made some serious assumptions about me (without knowing me at all--my blog is only one part of me) and my relationship with my American family without knowing anything about the nature of my relationship with them. I often don't talk in depth about my relationship with my American family, because I love them and want to protect them...But I guess where I have remained silent, folks assume that I don't have a good relationship with them. For the record (despite the fact that I actually have communicated and expressed this time and time again here at my blog)--I love my American parents and consider myself to be very grateful for them and close to them. And I would venture to say that if anyone were to talk to my parents or my brothers, they would say they feel very loved by me...

I know other people feel the way she does and that just comes with the territory...and who knows maybe I am ungrateful and need to grow up. It's worth considering...I'm certainly not perfect...

But anyway, here's the comment. I share this simply to demonstrate what it is that we as adoptees face on a daily basis and why it's so challenging at times to not feel completely misunderstood and repressed...Also, I think it's a good example of the vastly varying responses and perspectives that characterize the adoption community:

yoon, i have been reading your blog for awhile- and this is the first time i have commented.

i think you are actually quite lucky. lucky does not imply that no choice played a role in you being adopted or finding your birth family. quite often the lucky ARE chosen…that is WHY they are lucky.

i have been following your blog, and i think i am going to stop. it is just too hard to hear what i think is whining on your part.

i do think you are quite ungrateful. i wonder how your adoptive parents really feel about the way you treat them and your adoption on the internet.

i understand the need for APs to have their eyes wide open and not believe they are “saving” a child. I get it.

But the more I read your blog, the more I think you need to grow up and realize that as bad as you had it, you actually WERE really lucky. I think about the kids who lived their whole lives in orphanages. Those who never had a voice. And all you choose to do with your voice is criticize and whine…on and on.

I have lived through intense tragedy. I have buried two of my children, which is something no parent should ever have to do. Yet, I choose to see the good in life and the best in others.

I hope that when you do become a parent, you are able to see things differently. I feel you have no gratitude for the good in your life, and as a result, I am afraid I am going to have to respectfully stop reading your words.

Life is too short.

Adoption & Choice: God's Plan or Man's Plan?

2011-01-19T07:17:00.000-08:00

A reader left the below comment in response to my most recent post, Not Luck But Choice, at the adoption website, Grown in My Heart (I suggest reading the original post for context):

How do you explain choice to so many who do not even believe in choice to begin with? A lot of people in the adoption world view what happened to you as pre-ordained. I think that is one of the saddest things and one of the most damaging to adopted children.

The following is how I replied to her comment:

Very good point, Yoli, and one that I was trying to, although somewhat superficially, address.

For those who claim a faith in a loving, biblical God, it makes no sense to me to basically say, “Oh but it was God’s plan for you to be adopted." Such a statement and presumption inevitably and logically translate to adoptees like myself as "It was God's plan for you to be abandoned” (read "What not to say to an adoptee") or “God pre-ordained that your mother would be so poverty-stricken and hopeless and alone that she would feel no other choice than to give you away to strangers…” or “God allowed you to be abandoned and to suffer such loss and grief so that WE could adopt you.”

In my mind, that's pretty twisted, not to mention very egocentric thinking. That is not my impression of the God in the Bible or otherwise. Rather I understand a God who gives people free will even though he is often pained and grieved by their choices in how they exercise that free will (Genesis 6: The Lord saw how great man’s wickedness on the earth had become, and that every inclination of his heart was only evil all the time. The Lord was grieved that he had made man on the earth, and his heart was filled with pain…).

And yet he can still bring good out of suffering…although his ability to bring “good” out of suffering does NOT therefore imply that he therefore WANTED such suffering to take place…and that again is where free will comes in…

Why could it not be suggested that perhaps God would hope that folks would use their free will to help BOTH the mother and child in distress? Why is it automatically assumed that “helping the poor” means adopting their children? Why is the conventional wisdom, “Oh, this occurred so that WE could adopt” and not “This occurred as a result of living in a broken world, and we should feel compelled to do all that we can to empower these mothers & families to stay together and give them the chance for the same opportunities to succeed as have been given to us…?”

Yes, the Bible and Jesus say that true religion is to help the orphans & widows and the poor in general (James 1; Matthew 25, etc.), but back then, within the context, orphans were truly orphans (parents & often extended family were deceased)–they were not the children of poor, neglected, and oppressed women.

Folks often identify the stories of Moses and Esther and such to rationalize that it is God’s idea, plan, goal for adoptees like myself to be relinquished and subsequently adopted. I find this a gross and absolutely misguided misinterpretation. (Also, keep in mind that Esther was adopted by her blood relative, her Uncle Mordecai, and even Moses remained in contact with his original family…his own mother was able to nurse him and obviously his brother, Aaron, and sister, Miriam, remained in his life…)That’s like using the examples of incest in the Bible to suggest that it was God’s plan for a woman to be sexually abused. Completely out of context and completely disturbing…as well as NOT the original purpose or reason that such stories are included in the Bible. The stories of Moses and others are not in the Bible to justify adoption–-they’re there to tell the story of how the Israelites came to be, to give a spiritual and historical explanation and account of their origins…but so often, people twist and turn the Bible to fit what they already want to believe rather than understanding it at its face value, for its plain meaning within the appropriate context…

I know many would find the above comparisons offensive…but I find it so myopic and self-serving to take the stories in the Bible out of context to serve one’s own agenda.

Again, referring to “luck” or “God’s plan” is such a cop-out to me that frees people from taking personal responsibility for their actions and their role, not only in adoption, but in life. It’s the easy way out to say that my adoption was pre-ordained. It oversimplifies the matter, and it stunts growth, reform, and change from happening today. As long as adoption is “God’s work” or “God’s plan” people will not feel compelled to reform it or to address the root causes of poverty and social and economic injustice that often serve as its substrate. Although I am at peace with what has happened in my own life, I think it is crucial that we learn from adoptees’ stories, so that current practices can be ameliorated, ultimately resulting in less families being separated…

And how many nut jobs have claimed the same thing–-that they were God’s tool to execute God’s plan or have used the Bible or other religious texts to justify heinous and unjust acts? The Crusades are a perfect example. American slavery is another example (talk about twisting the Bible!), or opposition to interracial marriages (which still happens today). Or the existence of the KKK (which is still alive and active in the town that my husband and I reside). Or more presently, Islamic terrorism.

I’m not saying adoption is therefore comparable to the Crusades or American slavery, but I am saying that people can think something is perfectly and only good, to the point that they are deceived and miss completely the reality of a practice’s inherent flaws and misconceptions.

It’s easy for us to look back on slavery or the Crusades and scoff and say, of course those were bad. But at the time, they were viewed as good and justifiable–they were popular and supported, in general, by the masses. No one saw anything wrong with these activities.

In the same way, adoption is often seen as purely good, an act of God, and hence, people choose to ignore, dig their heads into the sand, regarding the often preventable “behind the scenes” that leads to adoption, that results in adoption…

In taking care of the poor, it does not mean, take care of only the children and those whom you deem worthy…

Adoption is a CHOICE. It is not some mythical, religious experience designed to bring you closer to God and bless you with the child YOU always wanted…I’m not saying that God cannot work through adoption, but I am saying that there are CHOICES that transpire that could have been DIFFERENT choices that God would perhaps approve of just as readily, and even perhaps identify as of a more noble and selfless nature…

Not Luck But Choice

2011-01-18T07:46:00.000-08:00

Here's the link to my monthly contribution to the adoption website, Grown in My Heart. The title of this month's article, Not Luck But Choice, addresses the common misassumption and aura that I'm a "lucky girl," not only because of being adopted but also because of being in reunion with my original family. Here's an excerpt:

To the outsider, it may appear a fairy tale, a dream—those who were lost from one another have now found one another. What a lucky girl she is—to have the best of both worlds—to have both her American family and now her Korean family.

But that’s just the trouble—it is two worlds—two worlds that do not readily or willingly merge. Rather it is more comparable to a collision.

And luck has nothing to do with it all. Luck had nothing to do with me being relinquished and adopted in the first place. Luck had nothing to do with me finding my Korean parents and family...

[Click here for the entire post.]

My Omma's Words...

2011-01-14T12:30:00.001-08:00

Excerpted from a letter I recently received from my Omma as we await the birth of my husband's and my first child:

"I don't know whose mercy helps us to meet...I can't describe any words to express how I feel gratitude to see my grandchild. You may lived full of sadness, and to me, it was uncomfortable to live day by day until this day comes...Even though we live separately, but I always be with you. Although the baby isn't born yet still, he may feel good because your happiness is also baby's happiness...Your bad mother always pray for you and now I can give happiness to you...I love you so much my daughter, take care. Thank you, dear Melissa and Michael..."

* * *

My Omma's words speak for themselves--even through the broken and strained translation, her words tell us what needs to be heard, what needs to be felt...For anyone who doubts or questions the complexities surrounding adoption and reunion--the simultaneous grief and hope--her words make clear that although we have found one another, it is so only because we first lost each other...

And although her words tell us so much, as both she and I anticipate the birth of my husband's and my first child, there still remains so much emotion, profundity, and depth unspoken that all the words in the world could never even begin to express or illuminate...

Twelve more days, Omma, and your grandson will be here, awaiting your arms, carrying within him a piece of you--along with all the hope that you and I never knew until now...

"It is not easy to care about the pregnant teen or the struggling mom"

2011-01-12T06:47:00.000-08:00

"...the idea that some lives matter less is the root of all that's wrong with the world."

~Dr. Paul Farmer

(Mountains beyond Mountains written by Tracy Kidder)

* * *

Adoption is not for everyone. Nor is it the answer to the world’s orphan crisis. In the best of circumstances, adoption creates a loving family for a child who has been orphaned. But it does not address the root causes of why a child has been abandoned or orphaned to begin with. It is a band-aid on much larger social problems that all of us should want to see eliminated – child abandonment, poverty, lack of resources, drug abuse, and social stigma. It is estimated that 99% of the world’s orphans will not be adopted. Adoption is an answer for some orphaned children . . . but not for most of them.

There are two sides to the orphan crisis: finding families for children without, and preserving families that are intact. Prevention is the side that is not addressed by adoption. If we say we care about adoption, then we must care about the circumstances that lead children to be orphaned. If we care about adoption, then we must care about seeing less children enter orphanages to begin with.

It is not easy to care about the pregnant teen or the struggling mom. But it might be the starting place in this whole scenario.

(And if we care about orphans, then we must care about the children in foster care in our own country.)

* * *

Minus the quote from Dr. Paul Farmer, the above is an excerpt from a post, "Adoption Discourse: A Little More Talk, A Lot More Action," at the adoption site, Grown in My Heart.

I wanted to share the post, because the author, an adoptive mom, actually addresses the reality that adoption "does not address the root causes of why a child has been abandoned or orphaned to begin with." I was refreshed to encounter such insights being expressed. Furthermore, the author goes on to offer very practical ways of addressing the root causes both locally and internationally:

So, I’m gathering a list – a list of things that assist children at risk. The first is a list of things you can do locally. Then, I’ll give some resources to organizations that are on the ground in impoverished nations, that you might think about supporting. These are the organizations that are helping to sustain families financially, so they don’t have to face the threat of abandoning a child due to poverty. THIS is where our attention should be.

Finally. Progress is being made--people who are willing not only to acknowledge the realities surrounding WHY adoption happens in the first place, but people who are also willing to promote doing something about it. Glory.

* * *

I'd also like to address, however, the statement that

"It is not easy to care about the pregnant teen or the struggling mom. But it might be the starting place in this whole scenario."

This statement, I believe, is quite revealing and honestly, to me, alludes to one of the root causes not only when facing the reasons behind adoption but the reasons for so much of the injustice and inequity that trouble our world.

In the words of Dr. Paul Farmer, as quoted above, who has been working in Haiti for most of his life (for decades--long before the earthquake hit):

"...the idea that some lives matter less is the root of all that's wrong with the world."

To me the above statement captures WHY it's so hard for some people to care about the moms facing the extreme difficulties and circumstances that may prompt them to relinquish their children. Whether it's a single mom facing intense poverty or a young teen lacking resources or a widow left alone or a woman struggling in an abusive relationship--the root reason for why it's easy for people to dismiss these moms is what Dr. Farmer addresses in his statement--that some lives matter less than others.

Maybe you don't view it that way, but what other reason or explanation is there for why folks are so willing, even eager, to help the children involved, yet so hesitant, even averse, to helping the mothers and families of these children? The mothers' lives matter less to them (for whatever host of reasons they use to rationalize and justify their discriminations--the mom is irresponsible, she shouldn't have gotten pregnant in the first place, she's uneducated, she doesn't have what it takes, she's immature, her actions prove she doesn't deserve to parent, and so forth), while the lives of the children matter more.

And yes, you're right, it is complicated--exactly. It's "easy" to help a child--they're so "helpless" and "innocent." But it's so much more difficult to help an adult--we're willful and obstinate and loaded with all kinds of flaws and emotional baggage.

So, it's easy for people to dismiss the lives of the moms being affected while feeling saintly for caring about the lives of the children. But if folks really cared about the children involved, they'd care about their moms, too. And if people were a little less inclined to think so highly of themselves yet so disparagingly of others, then true change, true reform, and true help could happen not only in the world of adoption, but in the world as a whole.

When we stop assigning a hierarchy of value to individual lives based on such finite and temporal terms like money and wealth and education, and begin acknowledging the inherent value of every human being, not for what they don't have or can't do but for what they do have and can do--particularly when given the opportunity and support they need--it is then that we will truly be on the road to progress.

Yippee! Two of my poems published!

2011-01-05T12:14:00.000-08:00

This is a bit of a divergence, since I normally focus on only the adoptee part of my life at this blog. But I figure it's good to diverge every once in a while, especially since I'm taking a bit of a "break" from the adoption realm.

But even still, this is somewhat relevant, since much of the poetry I write shares a kind of connection to my adoption experience, even if somewhat indirect.

Two of my poems were published this month (on pages 10 & 27) in an annual literary publication, "The Inkling," sponsored by the mother monthly publication, "The Verge."

Although a small local publication, I still feel pretty honored to have gotten a couple of poems published in this year's "Inkling"-- the other writers with whom I was published, in my opinion, produced beautiful and quality poems, prose, and stories that challenge me and call me higher. Kudos to my fellow writers! And also, if I somehow squeaked in there among writers whose work I can appreciate and admire, then maybe I'm not all that bad.

(And maybe now I can officially say that I'm a "writer" being that I've been published several times, even though in very small, niche publications? I had another poem published last year in the same publication, on page 9 titled, "Creation," but didn't bother sharing...I'm weird like that. I also will have an interview printed in the next issue of "The Adoption Constellation," and I write or have written for a couple of adoption sites? Ok, maybe not quite ready to proclaim that I'm a writer, but getting closer...)

But if you feel so inclined, give it a looksy--there really are some gorgeous writings and some interesting art. I personally liked the poem by PM Rogers, "Good night, Ambrosia" and the one by Daphne Maysonet, "My Theory Sonnet" as well as the one by Abby Spasser, "A Prayer for My Father."

And of course, if you so desire, my two poems are on page 10, "The Engagement" and page 27, "Destinies." For insight, "The Engagement" is a short haiku-like poem written about a time I punched a tree--yes, really--I was 19, and just beginning to awaken in response to my adoption. And "Destinies" was written after Mike & I viewed the poignant film about Iraqi orphans, "Turtles Can Fly."

* * *

[Also, if you happen to be interested, I have more samplings of poems I've written contained within this blog under the label, "poem"...]

Single mothers in South Korea still shunned for keeping their babies

2011-01-05T10:00:00.000-08:00

World Vision Report: Unwed Mothers by Michael Rhee

Description:
South Korea prides itself on its modernity and development, but the country's citizens also maintain traditional values. Single women who become pregnant often face rejection from their families and community. Society then pressures these women to give up their babies for adoption in order to hide the shame.
The few single Korean women who choose to have their babies face an ongoing struggle. From Seoul, Michael Rhee reports.

An Adoptee in Post-Reunion: A Holiday Wish List

2010-12-15T05:43:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned in the original post, "Time for a Break," even though I'm taking an overall break from the adoption community and blogosphere, there are still some commitments I will continue to maintain, one of which is writing a monthly post for the adoption website, "Grown in My Heart."

So, here's this months GIMH post, "An Adoptee in Post-Reunion: A Holiday Wish List."

Why I need "breaks": First footage of my initial Reunion in 2009

2010-12-07T09:40:00.001-08:00

Reuniting from Jeanne Modderman on Vimeo.

To view the multi-media piece/video, "Reuniting" by Jeanne Modderman, at Vimeo, click here.

I thank Jeanne for giving her time, energy, and heart to telling this story...

* * *

When I take a "break" from the adoption community, it's not that I'm taking a break from dealing with being an adoptee--that's nearly impossible for me, at this point.

Rather, it allows me to be able to deal with my own adoptee issues and experiences. Don't get me wrong, staying busy with processing and answering other people's questions and thoughts about their experiences does in some ways help me to process and answer many of my own questions. But it can also be a distraction.

There comes a time when I get so emotionally over stimulated that I feel about ready to implode. It's then that I realize that I need to take a step back.

Hence, one of the things that has prompted me to feel the need to take a step back and "process," in addition to dealing with pregnancy and pending motherhood, is the below multi-media piece (or you can also click on the title of this post to view the video).

A friend of mine and a fellow Korean adoptee, Jeanne Modderman, finished it about a month ago. She gathered the different video clips and photos during my initial reunion with my Korean mother in June/July of 2009. (I also reunited with my Korean father, but for privacy issues, photos and video must be kept private.)

I've watched the below piece a dozen times. I have been trying to process it over the past month. Every time I watch it, a deep reservoir of thought and emotion stirs.

So much has changed since the reunion--my life, my thoughts, my feelings--who I am. The experience is constantly evolving. Some things I thought then, I don't think anymore. And some things I didn't feel then, I feel all the time now...

I share this with the hope that it will depict reunion, at least from one perspective, in an honest way. But also understand, that this depicts only the beginning. And the beginning of reunion is certainly not the whole picture. It is so much more complex than what any video or photo or word can express or communicate.

So, although you may be tempted to think that this video tells all that needs to be told, it only tells part of the story. Please restrain yourself from assigning a label to it, whether you wish to identify it as a "happy ending" or a "happy beginning" or a "sad beginning" or a "sad ending."

It's all of that and so much more...

* * *

Time for a BREAK...

2010-12-03T06:04:00.000-08:00

Just letting folks know that I am "unofficially" taking a break from the adoption community and especially the adoption blogosphere for now. I say "unofficially," simply because I intend to fulfill my commitment to write once a month for GIMH (Grown in My Heart) as well as to continue to contribute to Transracialeyes. And I will still do my best to answer the emails coming into my inbox.

But the pace will certainly slow--and whatever I do contribute to GIMH and Transracialeyes will most likely be minimal, not only in frequency but in content.

And as far as actively seeking to engage with the adoption blogosphere/community or otherwise, I need an interlude, if you will--so that I don't all together just walk away and quit.

I want to be, I need to be a shadow right now.

I'm tired, burned out, and overall feeling disillusioned and fragile. And quite frankly, I'm just sick of dealing with the adoption community. Well, let me be more specific, I'm sick of dealing with the dynamics that have come to characterize the interactions and relationships within the adoption community.

I'm sure pregnancy hormones play a role. But even before I had that excuse, I was feeling ready for a reprieve.

I need some time to "detox."

I need some time to step back and enjoy this time in my life...with my husband, with my family--with the anticipated arrival of our first child (only approximately 8 more weeks).

So, I'm taking in a deep breath and letting out a long and needed sigh of relief...

Happy Holidays to all of you.

See you in the New Year...

"It is odd to be on the other side now" (~Riverkids' Director, Dale Edmonds)

2010-12-01T06:10:00.000-08:00

Please, please, please take the time to read this post, "Starting adoptions from the other side of the table."

It is written by Dale Edmonds at her personal blog. Dale is the director for the nonprofit organization Riverkids, which works to stop child trafficking and exploitation in Cambodia.

Her most recent blog post addresses the incredible complexities of the situations children and families face in Cambodia. And more specifically, recently, "Riverkids – the NGO I work for – is in the middle of arranging two adoptions."

Hence, Dale shares her experience thus far with the process and expresses, "It is odd to be on the other side now, to be making the decision on placing a child and figuring out how to do it. I thought it might be helpful to write up what my experience so far has been."

To open the post, Dale provides a bit of personal background along with a caveat:

Riverkids started to a large degree when my husband and I adopted four children from Cambodia, an international trans-racial adoption. Two of our kids had been trafficked specifically for adoption, and in the decade since, I’ve become incredibly cynical about the adoption industry, and to a lesser degree about adoptive parents. It’s not a triangle – it’s a black hole of money and desire coming from wealthier and socially more powerful adoptive parents distorting what adoption could be, a blessing in tragedy.

Caveat up front: I believe ethical adoption is a good alternative for some children in crisis, and I believe that most adoptions now are unethical. Ours certainly were. This is not an official Riverkids post, although we’re putting up our foster care policy once these adoptions are done, with detailed notes on the process as part of them. This is me reflecting on our work.

She then goes on to address six major points:

Yes, we have no babies
Abandoned is forever
Finding a family
Musical chairs with children
They'll have a better life overseas...
Process

As she concludes the blog post, I particularly appreciate her candor and humility in the following admission:

But it would have been so so easy to do that. To walk into a slum and rescue this tiny baby. She had a rash where she wasn’t being bathed enough – but her foster mother had a tiny hat for her that she put on carefully and the baby giggled when her foster mother blew kisses at her, and out of this really poor family struggling as best they could, the baby was loved, so loved.

Still, I have some empathy for people who charge in to rescue children. It’s seductively easy. Children cling to you and you can get such an emotional fix off rescuing them. They are far easier to help than angry independent adults. They are ‘clean slates’, and you can project your own ideas onto them. You have all this wealth and power comparatively, and everyone is so nice to you because you’re the kind lady or man who rescues children from horrible people.

While this empathy is not going to stop me from punching certain people in the face on behalf of my kids if I ever met them again, I can see how it starts. It starts when you think about how you feel, not the baby you’re supposed to be helping.

* * *

ADULT ADOPTEES in particular, she has specifically requested feedback and insight regarding the information she has collected for the two children's files. It seems like a very inclusive list to me. I wish I had had such information available to me from the beginning.

But I imagine that some of you, whether adoptees, adoptive parents or otherwise, may have some helpful insight to offer. If you do want to offer insight, please make sure to FIRST read Dale's ENTIRE blog post and please be CONSIDERATE. It's clear that she spent a lot of time thinking through the details (as well as obviously living through the details), which of course, as is inherent to adoption, are complex in nature.

Your child may grow up to be a lot like me (and that's not such an awful thing)

2010-11-23T07:21:00.000-08:00

As of this month, I will begin contributing on a monthly basis to the adoption resource website, "Grown in My Heart."

GIMH describes itself as "a place where all adoptive parents, adoptees, and first moms know they feel safe to air their opinions, regardless of differences. It is a group of women joined, somehow, by adoption."

(Now, I know some of you may cringe or wince at the name of the website. Understandable. However, the website truly does offer a diverse set of voices, some with which I can relate and others, well, let's just say, that challenge me--and that's a good thing, because the adoption community truly consists of a wide range of various perspectives and experiences. Besides, I need to be challenged so that I don't become stagnant and complacent, and so that I sincerely can deal with any flaws or shortcomings in my own thinking. I truly appreciate the eclectic range of voices and writers represented at GIMH. I also see this as an opportunity to interact with people that I might not necessarily have the opportunity to engage with otherwise.)

My first "article," Your child my grow up to be a lot like me (and that's not such an awful thing) just posted today. Here's a teaser excerpt:

You shouldn’t fear that your children could one day grow up to be a little or a lot like one of us. Rather, your focus should be to be there no matter what your children may feel, no matter what conclusions they may reach. The goal is not to groom a certain outcome in your adopted child, but rather to provide the environment and relationship that will enable and empower your children to become the adults that they will inevitably be. The point is not to control the situation and outcome but to provide the freedom for your children to find their own way.

I hope you'll stop by GIMH and give it a read, and who knows you may end up finding the site itself a helpful and insightful resource of diverse voices. Or you may end up finding yourself completely annoyed and irritated. And if that's the case, the great thing about the internet is that you don't have to go anywhere you don't want to...(*smilewink*).

"I love my spicy hunan girl": Please, adoption-related gear like this is NOT cute

2010-11-22T11:24:00.001-08:00

Just FYI, peddling and wearing adoption-related gear like that featured above is neither cute nor noble. It honestly makes me sick to my stomach, short of literally hurling. Not to mention how it makes me feel patronized, demeaned, and objectified (not as though Asian women don't already deal overtime with being objectified...).

I could easily write entire blog posts addressing why and how each one of the above pieces represents multiple layers of harmful, detrimental, misguided thinking (to put it lightly and overly-restrained).

Linda at Real Daughter, who is so much better at being candid and unrestrained (qualities I greatly appreciate!) in her recent post, Name Game Part 2, enlightened me to the fact that merchandise like this even exists...I honestly had no idea, and now I kind of wish I still had no idea, because it's just so utterly disturbing.

But I think the existence of such apparel does reiterate the presumptuous and often ridiculous attitudes adoptees have to deal with on a daily basis--all the misinterpretation and patronizing, to say the least, along with all the euphemism and praise to the neglect and ignorance of the inherent complexities and harsh realities faced by adoptees, the constant dismissal of the loss, grief, and trauma...

Please, if you own any apparel like this, trash it, burn it, shred it--whatever you need to do to get rid of it, so that you never wear it again.

Like I said, it's not cute. Seriously. And it's definitely not noble.

I know maybe you meant well, and you thought you were being loving and cute, but seriously, it doesn't make me feel anything good.

As an adoptee, I am not something to brag about on your t-shirt or bumper. I am an adult human being, not a cause or a charity to promote and peddle or for which you are to award yourself a pat on the back.

Look, I'm not against true, real causes.

And I'm not against raising awareness.

But c'mon, folks, there are certainly more respectful, considerate, productive, and intelligent ways of doing it.

* * *

The following apparel was also equally disturbing...

http://harlowmonkey.typepad.com/harlows_monkey/a_pictures_worth_a_thousand_words/

http://harlowmonkey.typepad.com/harlows_monkey/2008/07/this-is-why.html

http://harlowmonkey.typepad.com/harlows_monkey/2007/05/what_does_my_t_.html

The Different Names for "Mother": Who is my "real" mom?

2010-11-22T10:20:00.000-08:00

I've started contributing to a new blog project, Transracialeyes: Because of course race and culture matter. The project was
initiated by girl4708 who also blogs at Hello Korea!.

In her own words, the purpose of this blog is:

We want it to be a one stop shop for those who have questions about race and international adoption. We're all a little battle scarred from discussion boards, so this effort is closed to comments from the public, but will provide (hopefully) a range of thoughts from a diverse set of transracial adoptees.

As of now, there are five total adult adoptees contributing to this blog, and hopefully, with time, that number will grow. I think this blog is a fantastic and beneficial idea, and I hope that adoptive parents, prospective adoptive parents, and the like will refer to it as a resource.

Now a caveat to some of you--part of the point of Transracialeyes is to provide diverse and varied perspectives of adult adoptees, specifically. We are an eclectic crew and even as adoptees we have different backgrounds and different viewpoints. We may not all necessarily agree with one another or share the same ideas, but that's part of the point! Sometimes, some of what you read may make you, at the least,
uneasy, or at the most, outright offended, while other times you may share an understanding of a particular perspective, or even wholeheartedly agree.

I just want to encourage others to visit this blog over time, as hopefully it will grow to include more adult adoptees. It may annoy some of you that the comments are closed (except to the identified contributors), but as the above description clarifies, it's primarily a blog to function as a safe place for adoptees to have opportunity to honestly express their experiences and viewpoints without fear of backlash and condemnation--ultimately, with the hope that others will open their hearts and minds to consider each of these voices.

With all that said, I recently posted a question and a subsequent response (click on the below question to view it):

What are your thoughts regarding the different types of nomenclature applied to original/biological mothers, including terms such as “birth mother,” “first mother,” “real mother,” “natural mother,” and so forth?

And although you can't leave your comments there, you can come back here and leave your feedback, if you like. I am interested in hearing what others of you have to say in response to this question, particularly because over the years, although I have my own practices regarding the issue, I have not been strongly opinionated on this matter. But I know some of you are--and I want to know your thoughts and feelings regarding this question.

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Here are just a few other samples of questions posted and answered (really, though, there are so many insightful and informative questions and answers posted to this blog, these are just a few...I still have yet to get around to giving my two cents to the other questions on the blog, but I'll let you know when I do...)

(If you are an adult adoptee who would like to be involved in this project, just visit the blog, and you'll see where you can contact the administrator.)