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

(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 am getting off the bandwagon

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.

Deflection: A choice weapon of defense among Adoptive Parents

[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.

"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?

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

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

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.

Listening to adult adoptees: Do others really want to hear what we have to say?

First of all, I would like to clarify that when I write, "adoptive parents," I hope readers have the discernment to understand that I am not writing "all adoptive parents" but rather simply "adoptive parents," which can more specifically be interpreted as "those adoptive parents to whom the said description or behavior applies."

If you read a post and the said behavior or description does not apply to you, then voila, it doesn't apply to you. If you read a post, and it does happen to apply to you either at some point in the past or currently, understand that it is not meant to tear you down or make you feel poorly about yourself. Rather, it is meant to help. The intention of blogging about these topics is never to tear down, but rather to build up, out of a hope to educate those who are willing to read along.

* * *

This leads me to the other issue I'd like to address:

The Catch 22 of being an adult adoptee, and in particular an adult adoptee who strives to educate. I blog, in part, with the goal of raising awareness and promoting education regarding the adoptee experience, often using my personal experiences as well as those of other adoptees to inform my blogging.

So often, as adoptees, we can feel misunderstood by (a few or sometimes, many) adoptive parents, social workers, friends, family, and the general public.

Subsequently, I have always believed that a very effective way to deal with misunderstandings and ignorance is to make honest efforts to educate people whether the issue is disease or gardening, racism or adoption.

That's, in part, why I blog--to educate. While it's also therapeutic and a way for me to process and work through my own thoughts and emotions regarding the adoptee experience, I also hope that in doing so, others will benefit from the insight.

* * *

What I am realizing, however, is that not everyone wants to be educated. More specifically, not everyone wants to be educated in ways that do not confirm their biases or preconceptions. In other words, some prefer selective education. (I have to watch this tendency toward confirmation bias in myself as well. We're all subject to it, and hence, we must all be vigilant not to succumb to it...)

What I mean is this:

People ask, "Well how can you expect others to understand what it's like to be an adoptee if you don't help them understand, if you don't take the time to explain it to them?"

True, I say. You're right. What good is it for me to rant and rave about the lack of awareness if I'm not willing to do anything to cultivate and advocate increased understanding.

Hence, I blog and try to bring certain issues to light--and not hypothetical issues, but real-life issues from personal encounters and experiences.

Yet, even with these attempts, I am faced then with reactions from those who try to redirect me, whether passively or blatantly, by telling me that I focus too much on the negative aspects of the adoptee experience and that I need to expose myself more to those who have had a more positive experience.

And voila, we have a "Catch 22."

Please, tell us what you're feeling, please...well, except for that. Oh, and that, too. Oh, and well, that one, too. But no really, we want to hear what you have to say...well, maybe you could say this instead, and maybe leave that out, and well, omit that, and maybe add this. But other than that, yes, please we really value your insight and experience. But maybe don't focus so much on that. You got it?

First of all, do you or don't you want to know the realities of not only my adoption experience, but of many? Folks tell me I can't expect anyone to understand what it's like to be an adoptee unless I talk about it, but then when I do, they proceed to react in such a way that communicates that they don't really want to hear about it unless I'm praising and adulating all the wonders of adoption.

Second of all, just because I may write about some of the more difficult issues doesn't mean I'm a negative person. Criticism does not equate "angry, negative adoptee." I'm simply trying to provide balance.

There is no dearth of veneration for the practice of adoption. In fact, at least in my experience, the predominant perspective toward adoption among the general public and the adoption field remains one of veneration and admiration for those families who adopt. Let me be clear--my goal is NOT to oppose or demean those who participate in adoption, whether agencies or parents, but simply to provide balance to the perspective. You say toe-mah-toe, I say toe-may-toe.

There is no need to fear visiting the difficult and darker sides of adoption. It is necessary, for the sake of everyone involved, and in particular, the children who must ultimately live with such complexities for the remainder of their lives. Children will encounter no shortage of people telling them how grateful and happy they should feel about their adoption. But they also will encounter no shortage of conflicting emotions and thoughts internally, at school, and in the general community. The way to help adoptees to cope with such complexities is not to shut out one perspective to the detriment of another, but to allow them to face each.

Yet, repeatedly, I encounter folks who clearly find it annoying or undermining that I discuss the difficulties of adoption again and again. They want me to "move on," and get to the "happy stuff."

Okay, how about this? I'll "move on" when being adopted ceases to affect my every day life.

* * *

Not too long ago, a fellow adoptee friend, whom I'll refer to as "D" had an experience that exemplifies consummately the Catch 22 to which I am referring. Just for context, D is a mature adult and an accomplished professional. She is a warm, respectful, and emotionally mature individual. She is honest while considerate and understanding.

An adoption agency, which will remain anonymous, contacted her and invited her to speak with a group of prospective adoptive parents. It is important to mention that this adoption agency lauds itself as being one of the more progressive adoption agencies in operation, as demonstrated by its outreach program to include adult adoptees in the education process of prospective adoptive parents.

(Indeed, I appreciate such a program, and I personally wish that all adoption agencies would establish open programs that involve adult adoptees in the education process of prospective adoptive parents.)

Again, keep in mind that the adoption agency initiated contact with D, not the other way around. The agency repeatedly invited D to participate, even after D expressed some apprehension, not because she did not want to participate, but because she was not certain whether she was the "type of adoptee" the agency preferred.

In other words, D very clearly expressed to the program coordinator that she wanted to be able to very honest about her experiences, but that D felt hesitant that the agency had a certain expectation or agenda for what she could and could not share.

The program coordinator (who herself is an adult adoptee) reassured D that the most important thing for D to do was to share openly and honestly, and that if any of the parents had a hard time with what she shared, then all the more reason that D needed to share her perspective. The program coordinator stated that the parents needed to hear what D had to say, especially if the parents were going to be serious about adopting.

So, with such reassurance, D, along with another adult adoptee, attended a meeting with a group of prospective adoptive parents considering adopting through this particular agency.

The other adult adoptee shared first, during which D would occasionally interject her insight or feedback. Eventually, D spoke about her experiences as an adoptee with the group. At one point, D got a little emotional, simply meaning her eyes welled up with a few tears, and she got a little choked up as she tried to explain how being adopted has been a lifetime process for her rather than one with a clear beginning and ending.

She simply wanted to make it clear to this particular group of parents that being an adoptee never ends or stops, but rather it is an ongoing process of maintenance and discovery that is not only wonderful and hopeful but can also often be painful and difficult. Although D got a little emotional, it was not disproportionately so, nor did she lose control or raise her voice. Her pain simply pierced her words and revealed itself in a few tears. As an adoptee myself who has spoken to numerous adoptive parent groups, I can completely relate.

After the meeting was completed, the program coordinator approached D and the other adoptee and thanked them profusely, telling them each that what they had shared was so valuable and meaningful, and that surely the parents would benefit.

D, obviously, felt relieved and glad that she had been able to participate and had been able to share so vulnerably and openly, despite her initial reservations. She felt comforted, as though she had been able to make a difference in these parents' and their prospective children's lives.

Shortly after the event, the program coordinator (who, again, is an adult adoptee) called D. D was thinking that perhaps the program coordinator wanted her to come speak again with another prospective adoptive parent group.

Well, not so much.

In short, the program coordinator basically told D, "You are not welcome here at any point in the future."

Say what?

Yep.

Basically, the coordinator told D that the agency had made a mistake by inviting her to speak with the parent group, not realizing D's "current state." The coordinator explained to D that because of her "emotional state" it would be best for her not to return to participate in the program.

More specifically, the coordinator cited that several of the parents had gotten upset and had experienced difficulty with D's emotional expressiveness when she was sharing about her adoption experience, and that some of the parents felt disturbed and unsettled afterwards.

Uh, ok? Isn't that the point? To give parents a realistic and balanced view? The other adult adoptee who had shared expressed less difficulty with her adoption experience and provided reassurance to the parents that, despite the initial losses, everything would be just fine. Great. Every perspective is valid. Again, everyperspective.

Sure. Adoptive parents need reassurance at times, but not necessarily that things will always work out as planned ("Sticking with a Wounded Child" & "The Myth of the Forever Family"), but rather that there may be certain unpredictable elements and variations that are normal, considering the circumstances of adoption.

Hence, both D's and the other adult adoptee's perspectives are valid. But the fact that D's perspective was rejected by this prominent and so-called "progressive" adoption agency greatly discourages and disturbs me. And honestly, it makes me angry.

And of course, I can't help but wonder if this so-called "progressive" adoption agency is rejecting D's perspective, which is a very normal, healthy perspective, what are other "less progressive" agencies doing?

It's not that the aforementioned agency was not teaching that loss and grief are normal aspects of adoption. It's that they were teaching parents that D's response to such loss and grief was not normal or acceptable. This simultaneously hurts and infuriates me, because such practices fail the families involved.

It's not that the agency was not including adult adoptees in the education process, but that the agency was excluding and rejecting a valid and honest perspective because that perspective made the parents uncomfortable.

If agencies expose parents only to those perspectives with which they are comfortable, who are they truly seeking to serve, themselves, or the children being adopted?

Look, I know it's a complicated web of trying to triage the desperate needs of thousands upon thousands of children and finding able parents for these children (we must also remember that there are many children who would have remained with their biological families had the resources been available). Due to the multiple stresses coupled with a sense of urgency, mistakes happen and the "ideal situation" often abdicates to "good enough."

But this is all the more reason to continue to discuss and seek out ways to ameliorate a flawed and overworked system.

* * *

I understand that we don't always have to agree with one another on every point. That's unrealistic and, well, simply not possible. But we can provide a safe and open environment for the varying experiences and perspectives of different adoptees.

To shut out an adoptee because her perspective deviates from what you prefer is painfully narrow-minded and selfish.

I may not always agree with every fellow adoptee, but I can respect each experience and point of view as valid and worthy of consideration. It is true that there are plenty of folks out there who do practice such tolerance and openness.

Yet, sadly enough, it is also true that there are agencies and people out there who choose not to demonstrate this basic consideration, as exemplified not only by D's unfortunate experience but by countless others.

* * *

There are so many adult adoptees eager to share their experiences and insight with the hope that doing so will contribute in very real and practical ways to the much needed changes and reforms in adoption practices and philosophies.

Many tell us that they want to hear what we have to say. Many express a desire to consider and apply what we have learned.

Yet so often, when we finally choose to speak up and share our insight and ideas, our voice is either discounted or patronized. We encounter resistance and rejection from the very people who claim to value what we have to offer.

Adult adoptees are not the enemy.

We are the experts, and we deserve to be taken seriously.