The American Way

THE AMERICAN WAY

I.

The American Way is suffocating.
somewhere in the midst of sixty hours
And motherhood.

the American Way is losing its way.
somewhere in the chaos between
the (deception of) Convenience and the (sickness of)
Child-worship.

i am breathing but I am barely living.

Hail the spoiled and
the prosti-tots.

Rotting. in their thrones. of
stilettos and lime lights.

hike the skirts. tighten the halters—
and lay them on the altar:

(lamb,

our most tender of meats)


II.

mothers.

embrace a new profession:

the independent
butcherettes. and pimpettes—

their daughters’ favorite
Smurfette.

because every girl needs a best friend. who understands. a pal

who descends

defends

the sell-off of innocence.

Slaughter it.
Bleed it.
Hang it on a hook,

for all the world to see. smudges and fingerprints
fogging up the window,

like the tongue licks
of dirty dogs
panting and pacing,

back and.
forth.

the only way we point
is back and.
forth.

III.

at presidents and welfare recipients.
at terrorists and immigrants.

we congratulate our foresight:
as we congregate—

at the burning stakes—

frothing, behind our lips.

with thick.
Oil.

running down our throats.

we. Are. the morons:

designating villains. we wash our palms,
Pilate-style.

we should be.

burning.

ourselves.


IV.

greed clothed in a veil of comfort: no one wants to be left wanting.

(the rest of the world is left needing = dying) / (sacrifice = two dollars = the rest of the world can wait + starving)

this model does not apply.
to me.
your calculations show bias.

I. am. Not. one of the rich ones:

all I own is twenty-two hundred square feet (on an acre and a half). and my garage has no heat. i can only play golf. once a week. my Hondas and Toyotas are at the end of their leases. pity me, please, it’s a pity. we can’t afford a jet ski. or that private jet—and my wife can’t shop. at. neiman marcus. nordstrom’s only for special occasions.

a dime for your brother.

but who is my brother?

do not tell me he is the one who made the clothes my sons are wearing.
do not tell me he is the one who made the shoes my daughters are wearing.
do not tell me he is the one who grew the rice I am eating.
do not tell me he is the one who picked the fruit I am swallowing.

do not tell me he is the one who died digging for the jewels my wife is dawning.

my brothers are the ones I can touch.
the ones with whom I can watch the game. play the game.

We all play the game.
the American way.

proud. And loud.
when we are winning.

proud. And sore.
now that we are losing.
the American way.


V.

to lose our way may help us to find our way.
the way.
far away.
from Here.

i am straying from this way.
pursuing that which is askew.

i will go searching for.
my brothers.
pockets heavy with dimes and tears and sweat.

i hope that.
they will take me in.

and help me to shed this American.

skin.

way.

where I will learn.
not to want.
but to need.

more than a thing.
more than to be entertained.

that we may learn to look at one another in the eyes again,

and know exactly.
Without question.

who is our brother

our flesh

our human kin.

Burden (poem)

BURDEN

I am not a modern-day woman.
I am diminishing beneath the pressure.
I am a blasphemer and heretic
among the religious
feminists--

I have tried woman-worship
I have practiced the sacraments of:

exhaustion and. arrogance.
self-sufficiency, and
independence.

I am concluding: I am still just
as
empty. and I am aching. even
more.

this world
was never meant
to be.

our
burden.

A Fool's Winter & Her Tree: Still Searching, Still Waiting...

My heart grows weary, longing for someone who may not exist. Longing to find someone who may not want to be found.

Am I a fool? Of course, I am. I would never deny such an observation.

But dare I ponder that not all foolishness is unproductive or detrimental. It is often those who are willing to appear as fools in the eyes of the doubtful who stumble their way into the most astonishing and enlightening discoveries.

To utilize cliché, it has been said that one should not be afraid to go out on a limb, for that is where the fruit is.

Unless, you happen to venture out onto that limb in the dead of winter.

Then, you just might freeze to death, and find nothing within your grip to show for it.

This is my winter, right now. And this may be my winter always.

This limb out onto which I have crawled may never bear fruit. This tree may forever dwell in the bitter shadows of winter.

So, what shall I do?

Do I build a house here in this cold and barren tree? Or do I cut it down?

As we all tend to discover as life goes on, a middle ground usually finds its way beneath our feet. It is often a bit rougher and a bit more jagged than we anticipate.

Yet such terrain galvanizes the strengthening of our hearts and minds.

I will not uproot this tree just yet. And certainly, I am a fool, but not fool enough to build a house in it.

For now, I suppose I will make the rocky trek to visit this tree from time to time. I will water it and tend to it. I will wait and hope. Perhaps one day, its winter will come to an end, and I will find a tiny bud on the very tip of a limb reaching closest to the sky.

And when I gaze upon that tiny bud, I will imagine all the promise it holds—the promise to bloom with new magnificence. The promise to finally give itself up to bear the heralded fruit.

Just as I now climb into this tree, as barren as it is, and cling to its stark and naked limbs, with the same hope and imagination that one day this tree will smite the winter and awaken its dormant verdure and radiance to give forth all the fruit that one can savor.

Tragedy: Choi Jin Sil chooses death over life...

http://www.time.com/time/world/article/0,8599,1847437,00.html?xid=rss-topstories?iid=perma_share

The above link includes an article regarding the recent suicide of well-known Korean actress, Choi Jin Sil.

It is insights like those provided through this article and even more poignantly and distressingly through the actions of a woman like Choi Jin Sil that confirm in my heart that my birth mother's relinquishment of me saved me, and hopefully saved her as well.

There are aspects and elements of Korean culture that I value and appreciate greatly--the strong sense of family and loyalty, the discipline, the culture of respect and reverence, the food (of course!), to name just a few.

However, time and time again, I breathe a deep sigh of relief when I am reminded of the harsh and hostile environment created for single mothers and their children by a culture that values and emphasizes bloodlines above all else. I sigh in relief that I did not have to grow up in the face of such hostility and ostracization.

Certainly, I have faced other forms of alienation and isolation as a Korean adoptee growing up in America, but nothing close to that which unwed birth mothers and their children must endure in Korea.

Although I have encountered blatant racism, prejudice, and marginalization due to my Asian descent, I have always had family and friends in which I could find comfort and reassurance. Additionally, the opportunities to pursue an education and work have never been prohibited by my race. Most importantly, as I have already mentioned, I have never had to live without a supportive community of friends and loved ones to help me along the way.

Women like Choi Jin Sil and myriad nameless unwed birth mothers face a level of stigmatization and alienation that at one time somewhat existed in America, but has since vastly dissipated, in particular, in comparison to what still remains in Korea.

It breaks my heart for these women.

It also fills my heart with compassion when I think of my birth mother. I can only begin to imagine what she had to endure during her pregnancy as well as throughout the aftermath, if women in similar circumstances today still continue to grapple with the same terror, fear, and loneliness that my birth mother faced over thirty years ago.

I hope that Korean society will respond to the tragic death of Choi Jin Sil not only with deep compassion and concern, but even more so with a sincere and urgent willingness to examine the forces within its cultural dynamic that make suicide a more appealing option than to live out one's precious life.

May love and comfort come to Choi Jin Sil's children during this tragic time.

Accretion (poem)

ACCRETION

I.

so the fat drips.

the stalagmite:
horror of accretion. conical elevation

inserts a dominance.
lovely.

my two mamas will meet.
in the Fallopian corridor. one mother, the
conception. one mother, the virgin..

(God and my mother,
stole my tongue. God and my mother,
replaced it with a new one)

first lap of the white lard.
shift in my sleeves and
thumb.

the marrow will return.

II.

with its incision. and
emaciation.

cells. immaculate.
indivisible.

until the stalactite ceases.
and the fat

completes the migration.
viscera to dissolution.

wave, mothers.
dominance of the marrow.

my favorite friend.

You won't be able to adopt from Korea after 2012..?

http://adoptionjustice.typepad.com/my_weblog/2008/09/korea-urged-to-write-new-chapter-for-adoption.html

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/09/world/asia/09adopt.html?fta=y

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/10/18/opinion/lweb18korea.html?partner=permalink&exprod=permalink

The above links include three separate articles regarding domestic versus international adoption in Korea. I wrote the following in response to those articles:

I am a 33-year old Korean-American adoptee living in the United States. I was born in Seoul in 1975, and adopted by a Caucasian American family at about 6 months old through what was the David Livingstone Program & Korea Christian Crusade, now Dillon International & the Eastern Social Welfare Society.

Over the past several years I have slowly but surely become more active in my reading and research regarding the adoption experience and adoption community.

I am encouraged by the efforts of Korean society to cultivate and "normalize" domestic adoption in Korea. However, I am disturbed by the goal to eradicate inter-country adoption.

As a product of international adoption, I can honestly say that I am grateful that I was adopted by my American family. Due to the cultural stigmas surrounding unwed birth mothers & their children, I know that I was afforded so much more opportunity not only materially but psychologically, emotionally, and socially than I would have received had I stayed in Korea.

Now, I will say that if I could change anything about my adoption circumstances, I wish that contact with my birth mother and/or birth father and access to information regarding my birth history and family were not so elusive and so secret. I do find this aspect of my adoption experience incredibly frustrating and discouraging. There are certain elements of Korean culture that affect my adoption experience very negatively and extensively. At times, I truly must fight in my heart to have understanding, so that I do not to find myself embittered toward Korean culture and society.

I realize that complex factors contribute to such circumstances, and that is in part, what people like those of TRACK & ASK are working to ameliorate. I completely support such efforts.

However, to completely eradicate the opportunity or possibility for international adoption frightens me and concerns me for the orphans that such a decision directly affects.

The year 2012 seems too soon to execute such a policy. The burden of the cultural stigmas surrounding Korean unwed birth mothers and their children are still so heavy and still so intertwined within the fabric of Korean society.

Again, I admire and appreciate the efforts of people such as those involved in TRACK. But each adoptee's experiences and perspectives are individual and vary widely. To think that one idea is best for all those involved seems a bit immature and presumptuous.

My husband and I have talked before about the possibility of adopting from Korea. However, it is not likely that we will be able to so before 2012, by which we, as Americans, will be shut out. I find this discouraging personally, and incredibly myopic on Korea's part and those involved in designing such a policy.

Again, I fully support the efforts to help Korean adoptees remain connected to their origins and culture. I, myself, long so deeply to connect with my origins. I make great efforts to do so through language classes, reading, researching, etc.

I also think that helping Korean society to undo the negativity and marginalization surrounding unwed birth mothers and their children is admirable and well overdue!

However, to close yet another door of opportunity for the speechless and powerless orphans involved by outlawing foreign adoption hurts my heart for them and quite honestly enrages me.

It seems like yet another wreckless adherence to the Korean cultural precedence of "saving face." If Koreans truly cared more for the well-being of these orphans than about saving face & honor, then, in my small opinion, all that would matter is that these beautiful children find loving homes, no matter in what country or with what race or ethnicity.

I know that culture is a powerful force, often difficult to overcome or see beyond, but truly, what is best for these orphans? In an ideal and perfect world, such dire situations would be absent. But since we do not live in such a world, it would seem that the more opportunity and possibilities available to these precious children to find loving homes would take precedence over the desire to keep them in the hands of Koreans. These are children, not manufactured goods or services.

Again, I am not against domestic adoptions in Korea. Kudos! That's incredibly encouraging and inspiring that more and more Korean families are adopting Korean children. That only makes logical sense.

However, again, to shut the door on other opportunities for these children to find families and homes seems hurtful and ultimately, not in the best interest of these orphans.

Why must it be such an extreme of either/or? Why not keep all options available, including both international & domestic adoptions, while continuing to work toward the de-stigmatization of unwed birth mothers and their children?

I realize I am only one person, one small voice in a mob of loud, strong voices. But as an adult Korean adoptee, I had to at least take this opportunity to express my small, yet still valid opinion.

The Engagement (poem)

THE ENGAGEMENT

magenta flesh
like a fresh. ruby
leaking on my knuckle.