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

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"

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?

I Believe in Signs

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

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.

It's easy to be a heretic

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.

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

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.

I'm letting go...

[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...

An Adoptee in Post-Reunion: A Holiday Wish List

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."

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

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:

1. Yes, we have no babies
2. Abandoned is forever
3. Finding a family
4. Musical chairs with children
5. They'll have a better life overseas...
6. 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)

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

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

Why is Adult Adoptee insight & experience often ignored or disregarded?

I just have to say that all the coverage and attention regarding the current Russian-American adoptee fiasco is revealing the ongoing and persisting ignorance that surrounds adoption.

Harlow's Monkey posted a very insightful entry that I hope you'll read.

To somewhat tagalong with a few of the issues she raises in her blog post, I would like to express my own frustration with the situation.

Overall, the insensitivity and crudeness with which this unfortunate turn of events is being handled indicates that not only does the general public still misunderstand adoption but that adoptive parents also remain rather ignorant regarding the issues that accompany being an adoptee.

The media is either sensationalizing and/or sanitizing the situation as though it doesn't involve the very real past, present, and future life and feelings of a very real seven-year old human being.

I also find it incredibly annoying and implicating that the media and public seem to consider adoptive parents and social workers the "experts." As Harlow's Monkey addresses, why is it that no one in the media or otherwise has bothered to consult an actual adoptee regarding the situation? And if it's credentials (in our overly litigious and legalistic society) the media is concerned about, there are plenty of adult adoptees who are professionals in the field of social work and adoption.

Even still, you don't need a Ph.D in adoption to be an "expert." In fact, all the books and studies a person reads will NEVER be able to make someone an expert on the adoptee experience. A White man could, say, get a Ph.D in African-American Women's studies, but despite all his credentials and so-called expertise, he would never truly know what is to be an African-American woman.

Look, I'm not saying that adoptive parents and social workers can't be advocates for adoptees or even helpful resources, but they are NOT the experts. No matter how many books they read, they will never truly know what it is to be an adoptee. They cannot live the life of an adoptee.

Adult adoptees are the experts. And I wish that our voices and experiences, our knowledge and insight, our wisdom and counsel were sought after and considered.

Instead, we're pushed to the side or worse yet, simply completely forgotten.

My husband and I were discussing the lack of presence of adult adoptee perspective and feedback in the media as it covers the story of the seven-year old Russian adoptee. My husband said something along the lines of "My guess is that it probably hasn't even dawned on anyone to include adult adoptees. It's probably not even something that would ever come to mind...They just don't think of it. They just don't know."

And that's just the thing--like I said when I began this post: Ongoing and persisting ignorance.

Claiming ignorance in this case is not a "get out jail free" pass--it's only more of an implication of the gross oversights that continue to characterize how people view adoption, and even more so how people view the adult adoptee. I think adoptive parents and people in general do not naturally turn to adult adoptees for several reasons. (They often prefer to consult other adoptive parents or a social worker).

For instance, I think adult adoptees are often still viewed in the minds of others as the children who were brought to this country as infants or toddlers, despite the fact that we are mature adults now. This imposition of eternal child-likeness on us keeps us from being viewed as the mature and insightful adults that we are, and hence often overlooked when others are seeking out counsel and feedback regarding adoption.

Also, I think it is assumed that we don't or shouldn't have anything to say, either because we're assumed to be so well-adjusted that we wouldn't have any insightful or helpful advice to offer other than to say, "I'm so grateful. Thanks for adopting me."--or we're viewed as being "that negative, ungrateful adoptee" who has "issues" and can't be trusted or taken seriously as a valid representative of the adoptee experience.

That's like saying the perspective and experience of a Black American who lived through the Civil Rights movement isn't a valid representative of Black American life back then, because she has some not so flattering things to say about America.

I remember being asked to share several years ago at an event for adoptive parents and their adopted children and prospective adoptive parents. When I presented what I had outlined to share, I was asked to omit the parts in which I had planned to discuss the difficulties I had experienced as an adoptee. The organization hosting the event wanted me to depict adoption in a particular way.

I have also encountered adoptive parents who disregard me as an anomaly or an exception. They patronizingly give me the proverbial pat on the head, as if to say, "I'm so sorry you have issues. I'm so grateful that my child won't have the same problems that you have."

We've all heard it said, "Ignorance is bliss." Well, ignorance is certainly not bliss when it comes to adoption.

Ignorance is exactly what leads to a seven-year old Russian boy being sent back as though he was a doll that had been purchased in a toy store.

[for those of you who are feeling a little adventurous or up to a challenge, or perhaps have an artistic side, check out this poem entitled, Protocol, that I wrote years ago, but I believe is very relevant to the situation surrounding the seven-year old Russian adoptee]