Geographies of Kinship

I think one really awesome thing about the Korean adoption community is that we are a global community.  Though most Korean adoptees have come to the US, representation can be found in Australia, France, Norway, Japan and many more countries.  Collectively we are fluent in numerous languages and cultures.  To me, there is a sense of both beauty and power in that.  It makes me excited for what our community is doing now and for the potential we have to do great things in the future.

Deann Borshay Liem, a filmmaker and Korean adoptee, is truly honoring our global community through her upcoming documentary, Geographies of Kinship.  I am so very excited for this film as it follows the lives of five Korean adoptees around the world.  Watching just the preview for it already got me misty eyed over the weekend.  The film has been seeking financial support over the past month and its online fundraiser is about to end.  Although the funding goal has already been met, please at least take a look at the preview and consider offering your support!  I think this will be storytelling at its best and a beautiful tribute to the Korean adoption community.

Link here: Geographies of Kinship

Opening the floor

It occurs to me that over the past few months, I have been two things that a good blogger should not be: lazy and self-absorbed.  My ideas are so slow to come and then I end up just blathering on about my own issues like this is some Diary of a Mad Asian Woman.  This is not what I want my blog to be.  Personal experience roots me to all of this, but I want to move beyond me into something more. 

So, in a move that may or may not be wise, I want to open the floor to anyone reading this for thoughts.  What questions do you have?  What topics are you interested in?  What would be helpful for you to read about on here?  I will be checking the comments of this post for responses, but emailing me would also work just as well!

I’m so thankful for the connections that I have made through this blog, particularly with other adoptees.  I started writing here two years ago in an attempt to feel less isolated myself and I have found so much community since that time.  It’s amazing what can happen to your life when you take a chance and open a new door.

And I want to keep this door open.  To keep learning, sharing and helping.  I don’t want this blog to go to waste because the adoption community means the world to me.  In the meantime, I will continue to gather thoughts for this blog, but please, please don’t be afraid to make a comment.  I promise you that I am listening. 

Adoptee Deportation: It Matters!

Ever hear of Russell Green?  Joao Herbert?  Kairi Shepherd?  I hadn’t either until a few months ago and now, knowing their stories, it’s nothing short of shocking that their names are not more familiar.  These three people are only a few of a growing list of international adoptees who have been deported from the US back to their countries of birth or who risk deportation.  Joao Herbert was deported back to his birth country, Brazil, where he was murdered a few years later.  Kairi Shepherd and Russell Green continue to reside in the US, but their fate is unknown.  The scary reality is that many international adoptees may be in danger of being deported back to their countries of birth; countries they may have no clue how to survive in.  Imagine being told you had no choice but to go live someplace where you don’t know the language, culture or a single person to help you out.  Your entire life would be disrupted.  You would have to leave your home, your job, your family, everything.  Oh, and the cherry on top, you would be labeled as an ‘illegal immigrant’.  All because you did not become a US citizen.

Okay, so citizenship is not the only component to this situation.  More accurately, adoptees who lack US citizenship and who have committed a criminal offense risk deportation.  Mind you, the term ‘criminal offense’ can cover many a crime.  Kairi Shepherd committed fraud due to her struggle with drug addiction.  Jess Mustanich, who was deported to El Salvador, burglarized his father’s home at age 18.  Many of the crimes in question were committed by adoptees when they were in their late teens and appear to surround drug possession, fraud and burglary.  I realize the way I’m phrasing this sounds possibly biased and more sympathetic towards the adoptees, and that’s about right!  These crimes do not justify removal from one’s country.  To these adoptees, the US is home; the only place they’ve ever truly known and felt comfortable in.  The law is stripping them of what they trusted to be theirs.  And, oh heck, Blanca Catt?  As far as I know, she did not commit any sort of crime and yet she, too, came under fire for her lack of citizenship after being smuggled into the US as a toddler.

It might be easy to jump to the conclusion that the adoptive parents are to blame.  However, the lack of citizenship has not come at the fault of the adoptee or, in many cases, even their adoptive parents.  Jess Mustanich’s father tried numerous times over multiple years to secure citizenship for his son, only for agencies and resources to fumble around and never do anything about it.  Some adoptees ended up passed from place to place, living in child welfare limbo where no one secured citizenship for them.  That path to citizenship is not without barriers.  Those barriers became fewer when the Child Citizenship Act of 2000 was passed, essentially giving international adoptees automatic citizenship upon arrival in their receiving country.  While this is great for many adoptees, it does not protect those born prior to 1983.  What is in place to protect the rest?  Sadly, nothing that I know of.  Not yet, anyway.

I have to admit I was quite ignorant on this entire issue up until fairly recently and now it’s one of those disturbing things that I cannot possibly unlearn.  What disturbs me most, however, is how little attention this problem is getting.  Kairi Shepherd’s case seems to be the most prevalent in the media, but even her story barely has footing.  This is a human rights issue that has been glossed over for years.  If this is the first time you’re reading about adoptee deportation, know that it isn’t new news.  Joao Herbert was deported over a decade ago!  This is an ongoing problem and those at risk need a solution now.  Although this situation does not apply to me, these are fellow members of the adoption community hurting in a big way.  They need the support of their community, adoptees, APs, friends and all.

So, community, what can we do about this besides get mad about it?  (Getting mad is a good start, though!)  Get informed.  Google the names mentioned in this post.  Click this link to find a list of deportation cases.  Sign a petition to amend the Child Citizenship Act to help those at risk of deportation.  Spread the word about this social issue to whoever will listen to you. 

(Special thanks to Land of Gazillion Adoptees for challenging adoptee bloggers to write about this topic in the month of June.  Better late than never, right?) 

Risk and benefit

A friend and fellow adoptee recently sent me the link to Voice of Love, a project to encourage the elimination of Korea’s international adoption quota in order for more children to be adopted overseas. The project is seeking Korean adoptees and their families to record a video of themselves discussing how their lives have been ‘blessed’ by international adoption. It is hoped that these videos will influence Koreans to change policy once they see how lives have been positively impacted by adoption.

I understand what this campaign wants to accomplish. And I understand why. The reality is that Korean society has not embraced the notion of domestic adoption. Yes, domestic adoption does happen. Organizations such as Eastern Social Welfare Society promote domestic adoption, but it’s largely a topic still stained by stigma. It is my understanding that many Koreans who adopt domestically try to adopt an infant as young as possible and may not even tell the child that they were adopted. Bloodlines are paramount. Korea, to this day, is one of the most homogenous nations. Single parenthood is looked down upon because it disrupts that patriarchal lineage which society works so hard to preserve. I think it is a culmination of these societal beliefs that leaves many Korean children in an orphanage or foster care. I can understand why Voices of Love wants to help them because their circumstances are certainly sad.

And yet, I hesitate at the thought of participating in the campaign. Voices of Love is one perspective and one potential solution to a social issue. It is not the only one or, necessarily, the right one. Then again, I have no clue what the ‘right’ one is. Does anyone? It’s complicated. I’m not sure that I would be comfortable turning my life into a PSA and, especially, such a one-sided one. The campaign is asking for 30 second videos. What can be said in half a minute? I love my family. They are, without a doubt, my family. In so many ways, I have had a good life so far. I have had opportunities to thrive and I have been loved deeply. I suspect these words are the kind of words Voices of Love is hoping an adoptee will offer to their effort. They’re all true words, too. The truth is that my life has been good.

But the truth is also that my life has been with struggle. It continues to be. This past year has been one of the hardest for me as an adoptee filled with hurt, frustration and questions. So many questions. There is both risk and benefit to being an adoptee. And maybe the hardest thing of all to accept is that we don’t get to choose to be an adoptee. It is something we inherit through the decisions of others. Of course, the extent of our struggles varies greatly. Some may never ask the questions that others grapple with their entire lives. Some adoptees have experienced terrible abuse and isolation at the hands of their adoptive families. What reason do they have to participate in something like Voices of Love? International adoption is not the only answer and it is not without errors.

There are no easy answers. And the questions I come back to in this moment are these: what do those children in Korea need? What decision will benefit them most? To be able to grow up in their birth country without a family in the traditional sense? To grow up across the ocean missing out on their birth country, but with a family? No matter what path is taken, there is always risk and always benefit.

KAAN!

If I had been more organized, I would have spread the word on this earlier, but alas.. I'm so excited to say that I will be attending this year's KAAN Conference! KAAN stands for Korean American Adoptee Adoptive Family Network. This volunteer-run organization holds a conference every year in a different location. This year's destination is Atlanta, Georgia. I've never been to a KAAN conference or Georgia for that matter, so I'm thrilled! There will be movie screenings, activities and many sessions to attend during the event. I truly am sorry I didn't share about this earlier since the conference is this coming weekend. It seems like a marvelous opportunity and, best of all, seems like it will be representative of diverse perspectives within the community. A friend and I ended up registering very last-minute and I'm just so glad to be going. If you would like to know more, please visit their website: http://www.kaanet.com

And if you're reading this and happen to be attending, drop me an email (chopsticksoo(at)yahoo.com--sorry for no hyperlink, but I'm trying to avoid spam)! I'm looking forward to meeting new people and making the most of this experience.

Survey opportunity

If you are an adult transational adoptee (18 years or older) adopted by an American family or an adoptive parent of said adult adoptee(s), please take a moment to complete one of the below surveys. This is an approved research project entitled Stories of Adult Transnational Adoptees and their American Parents. The researchers themselves are an adoptive parent and adoptee. I think what they are doing is fantastic and hope that you can participate or spread the word! The bigger the sample size the better! We need more research in this area of the adoption field.

Surveys (projected to take about 30 min. and I found that to be accurate for me):

For Adoptees
For Adoptive Parents

The researchers will also be conducting in-depth interviews individually with adoptees and adoptive parents in some major cities across the US. If you want to know more, check out their webpage: Stories of Adult Transnational Adoptees and their American Parents

Also, the researchers plan to post the results on their website as well as write a book on their findings! So, bookmark them if you're interested. I'm definitely looking forward to seeing what we can learn from their study.

Boiling point

Oh, I am livid. I had no plans to make a post today, but now I am just angry and need to vent. Writing while angry might not be the best idea as it typically leads to one saying things they may later regret. Oh well. Here we go.

I was browsing my hometown news channel’s Facebook page this morning and came across a story they featured about an adult adoptee searching for her birth family. I was so excited! Until I made the dumb decision to read the user comments below. Life lesson #8493: Reading user comments on almost any online publication will inevitably lead to frustration/despair. Because if there’s any place people can completely strip themselves of decorum, it’s the internet. I suppose I should look at the positive and make note that the majority of the comments were supportive and kind. However, I need to be a Debbie Downer for five minutes and share my two favorite comments:

“I hope the birth mother's rights and wishes are being respected.”

“Unless you are searching for your birth mother because of EXTREME HEALTH problems-- I would consider this a SLAP in the FACE to the family that adopted you and raised you all these years.”

Let’s start with the birth mothers comment. I am not saying that birth mothers should be disrespected, but what about the adoptee’s rights and wishes? I feel as though I am repeating myself from my last entry when I say that we appear to be the least powerful of the adoption triad. As infants and children, we did not have any autonomy regarding these decisions. It was professionals and other adults who were tasked to decide our futures. Not us. So, when we become adult adoptees who can think for ourselves, it is frustrating to see people still indicating to us that we do not have control. That we should not be able to pursue reunion with birth family because years ago someone else said no. I still intend on initiating a search and I’m not going to apologize for it because I strongly feel that it is my right. My rights and wishes deserve to be just as respected as my birth family’s and my adoptive family’s.

And now for the SLAP in the FACE comment (you have to love the caps lock emphasis). So many times I have seen adult adoptees have to defend themselves over this ridiculous opinion. Apparently wanting to search for birth family makes us ungrateful traitors. I never understood why some people look at adoptees from such a one-dimensional standpoint. We’re either the ‘good’ adoptees who love our families and love being adopted or the ‘angry’ adoptees who hate our families and the adoption system, right? Adoption, to me, is all gray matter. But, for the record, it is possible for an adoptee to deeply love their family while also wanting to pursue a birth family search and/or look at adoption critically. It is entirely possible. I know I am not the only living example of this.

Maybe it is easier for me to say these things because I have a parent who is so supportive of me pursuing a search. I know other adoptees whose parents have shown strong insecurity at them looking for birth family. Even in discussing my desire to search with some friends, I have noticed them transferring their own insecurity into the conversation with comments like, “Won’t your mom be hurt?”. Did it ever occur to them to look at the other side of the coin? That perhaps I may feel hurt if I never search? I am tired of living under the expectation that I must bend myself, fit myself into all the right corners and angles so as to accommodate the feelings of everyone else but my own.

Post adoption services: Where are they?

I want to start by linking an honest, well-written article I read this morning by an adult Korean adoptee who discusses his past experiences working in the adoption field: http://www.slanteyefortheroundeye.com/2011/03/guest-post-business-of-adoption_29.html

The article especially resonated with me as my last month of grad school fast approaches. I am studying to be a social worker and the idea of getting into the adoption field has crossed my mind countless times. I always figured that being an adoptee could add a valuable layer of perspective to my work, but last year I started feeling uncertain about it. And I realized that the ideas I had in my head about what kind of work I could do in adoption do not match with reality.

Last February I had to start looking for a 2010-2011 internship and the first place I interviewed at was an adoption agency. The whole interview turned into a huge disappointment. I was told my work would largely consist of communicating with prospective parents over the phone. I also realized that they had very few post adoption services. Oh, and to top it all off? I told the interviewer that part of my interest in the adoption field stemmed from being an adopted person myself, to which she just responded with this awkward smile, said “Oh, okay” and moved on. Her nonverbals indicated that I had said something inappropriate. I get that you should use discretion in disclosing details about yourself, but what on earth is wrong with identifying as an adoptee at an adoption agency of all places? I didn’t need a congressional medal of honor or anything. I had just hoped for a more..welcome response. Needless to say, I felt uncomfortable and ended up declining the agency. I knew deep down that it wasn’t what I really wanted to do.

What did I really want? To work with adoptees in some capacity, but I exhausted the list of internship opportunities and no one truly had what I wanted. Every adoption internship was the same—providing services to parents. I consulted with one of my professors who has a background in child welfare. He looked at me with a sigh and said, “Post adoption services just aren’t considered billable services. I’m not saying it’s right, but it’s how things are right now.” Well..dang. I guess I really want to live in a cardboard box one day (prior to settling on social work, I was considering an MFA in poetry).

But back to the bigger issue at hand: where ARE the post adoption services? After reading that article, I am both enlightened and slightly dismayed. Minnesota is practically KAD country. If they cannot secure funding for post adoption services, the area I’m in certainly won’t. You don’t get money if you can’t demonstrate a need for it, but I do believe that adoptees have needs that could potentially benefit from services (counseling, support groups, linkage to community resources, help with search and reunion, even social events just to get together..). Where are the services specifically for adoptees? How did this lack become the norm? Well, not everyone would perceive a lack even existing in the first place I suppose.

One thing I have realized is that the adoption field largely serves birth parents and adoptive parents. Not sure what happened to that so-called triad, but my fear has become that adoptees do not have equal footing compared to the other two. So many people speak of adoption as a one-time event when child is united with adoptive family, but it’s a lifelong process. One day that child will grow into an adult and through it all he or she will always be an adoptee. I think I may very well be renegotiating this identity my entire life. And as much as my mom can support me, as much as we are together an adoptive family, I feel like I need to walk some parts of this journey alone. To discover what being an adoptee means for me as an individual. My mom is not adopted and cannot fully share in this, but I don’t love her any less for it. I’m just wondering where is that place that adoptees can call ours. Where are those services with us in mind as we continue to grow and new questions emerge? How can the adoption field overlook us? Someone is in a state of delusion if they thought the day I was placed into my mom's arms for the first time was the end of the story.

Small town girl blues

Well, it’s time for those famous two words that every college student craves to hear: spring break. One of my professors optimistically wished us a week of ‘sunning and funning’. She has a sense of humor. I say that since most of us will be spending said week in cold, rainy New York. I’m heading back to the hometown for some quality time with family, high school friends and my favorite local Greek restaurant. And I will get to snuggle my sheltie and celebrate her second birthday with her. All of these things are good things. Great things, even.

But. (And you knew a ‘but’ was coming.) In my heart of hearts I am not excited about it. In fact, I seem to be heading towards something closer to depression than elation. This sinking feeling has slowly, quietly crept its way in and I can’t deny it any longer. This is only a taste of things to come..of a future that I’ve realized I really, really don’t want.

After I graduate this May, I will be moving back home. Temporarily, at least. I made this decision a long time ago and, for a while, actually looked forward to that decision. I did not warm up to the city I currently reside in for school right away. I missed home, missed my mom who was ill at the time and missed the kisses from my dog. I chose to move back home post-graduation because, frankly, my mom is aging. She’s 68 and lives alone. Without getting into too many details, her physical and mental health have not been well over the past number of years. I first stepped into caregiver shoes at 19 and it really does come down to me. I am her proxy, her advocate, the one responsible over all others for her. I can’t stray too far. And, for a while, I was okay with that.

But it’s been almost two years since I moved out here for graduate school and suddenly two years doesn’t seem long enough. I’m not ready to leave. This is the first place I’ve lived in my young adult life that I’ve felt so free and able to be me. I have had many fulfilling experiences since being here that have contributed beautifully to my growing sense of identity. I started mentoring a few international students from Korea which has been incredible. They are such sweet people and we have learned so much from each other. I also started meeting up with other Korean adoptees around my age in the area. To find company where you can candidly talk about homeland tours, birth family searches and awkward racial experiences is a gift. A complete gift. Here, there are Korean restaurants, markets, churches..even a noraebang house (which I have not yet embarrassed myself at, but maybe soon). Here is a place I’ve found myself belonging and content in. It’s so much more than I ever had before.

In comparison, my hometown is much smaller and much less diverse. There is no opportunity for me to embrace my KAD identity there. There is nothing Korean there! And maybe I didn’t notice so much as a child, but today I resent it a little. It makes me feel hurt and sad that my heritage does not exist there, that I had to grow up in a neighborhood which I singlehandedly diversified. My mom doesn’t even know any Asians other than me and a handful of KADs from our adoption group. I need to live someplace where I can actually feel culturally relevant and validated. I love my mom more than I’ve ever loved any other human being on this earth. It's been just the two of us against the world for as long as I can remember. Why isn’t that love enough to make me want to stay? I talk of moving back as if I have no other choice which is not entirely true. We always have choices. It's just that being in the throes of a 'life sucks' moment makes them a little hard to see. Sometimes being a transracial adoptee feels like trying to walk in two different directons at once.

A meaningful experience

Do you think a transnational adoptee needs to acknowledge their birth culture?

Maybe this sounds like a ‘duh’ question, but I like thinking about these types of questions because they can be so easily taken for granted. I pose this question because, through the blogosphere and various media, I have noticed many APs or future APs eager to integrate their child’s birth culture into the child’s life as much as possible. I’m neither agreeing nor disagreeing. I’m simply curious. What informs us that this is the ‘right’ thing to do? What is a parent’s best hope for their child in making that decision?

My mom started integrating Korea into my life seemingly from the start. We were attending a local adoption group before I was out of diapers. The group was open to any family with adopted children, but ended up largely composed of KADs. We had parties at holidays, celebrated the Lunar New Year and many of us went to culture camp together during the summers. For us kids, it was really just time to have fun with friends. Or, if I’m being very honest, it was time for us to all feel awkward together trying say words in Korean and do a fan dance. By the time I was in middle school, most of my ‘generation’ had dropped out of the group and I didn’t want to go anymore, but my mom kept dragging me until I was about 15. I think she had a harder time letting go of it than me. I really didn’t care anymore. A parent might see this adoption group as a positive thing, but from the adolescent’s perspective, I didn’t see the point (and I really didn’t enjoy how wearing hanboks further flattened my nonexistent chest). If my mom had shoved Korean culture down my throat every day, I think I would have become highly resentful.

Today I am very interested in my heritage, but when I look back, I have to wonder if my mom’s choices to keep me involved in the adoption community affected where I stand now. I’m not really sure that it does. I don’t think that integrating a child’s birth culture into their life is necessarily a predictor for how they will feel about that culture as an adult. And for those who don’t recognize their heritage, are they any worse off than someone like me? Does it matter? I know one other KAD who stayed in the adoption group as long as me and today she’s rather indifferent. She’s married with a family, teaching and comfortably settled in suburbia. She has a good life. Never been to Korea, no plans to go or search for birth family. Does she need some more Korea in her life? I know other KADs just doing their thing and I don’t see anything wrong with it. Maybe one day they will feel differently. Maybe they won’t. I think we have just as much a right to pursue our birth culture as we have a right not to.

At the end of the day, I think we’re all just trying to find some measure of acceptance. Of belonging. The activities I did in adoption group didn’t mean nearly as much as simply being with other Asian kids with white parents. As for playing yut, making mandu, knowing how to write my name in hangul.. Some KADs just don’t give a damn about those things and I say it’s okay! Exploring my Korean heritage is turning out to be meaningful for me, but I’m only speaking for me. Adoptees, like anyone else, all find their own paths to fulfillment.

Are you...?

As fate would have it, today presented me with the perfect introduction for this post. I’m currently back in the hometown for a 5-second Thanksgiving break. Because I have not eaten excessively enough this week (read: I have and I’m now wearing sweatpants, thank you very much), my mom and I decided that consuming a large quantity of spaghetti for lunch would be a good idea. We went to a local Italian place where we were immediately waited on by a girl of Asian descent. The moment she said her name, I couldn’t help but wonder if she was a KAD. It wasn’t just the name, but the context and local demographic factors that got me wondering. The only Asian American youth I knew growing up were other KADs. Well, lo and behold, after she took our drink orders she said, “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but were you in an adoption group? I think I remember you two. My parents are [insert names here].” Really! I don’t honestly remember her or her family, but my mom did and it was just pleasantly surprising to run into a fellow KAD. I can’t plan these things, people! Come to think of it, this might be the first time something like this ever happened to me.

In my experience finding other KADs, aside from the ones I grew up with, is hard. It’s not like we go around wearing a sign identifying ourselves as such. There don’t seem to be any surefire signs that would lead you to make those assumptions. With the girl today, I wondered, but I don’t have some TRA sixth sense! My guess is as good as anyone else’s. I’m regularly on a campus with an enormous population of Asian students. There’s no way to quickly distinguish who’s an adoptee, who’s not, who’s an international student, who’s not. There could be a ton of KADs/TRAs at my school for all I know. In fact, I think it’s safe to say there have to be some floating around because my university is just that huge and the surrounding area diverse enough. If there are a handful of us kicking around the less diverse suburban community I grew up in, there surely have to be more in this bigger college city. Which is awesome..if I ever meet any of them!

Because that’s the challenge: connecting with others, at least in-person, and especially as an adult living in an area that does not have a known adoptee group. Of the few KADs that I do know personally, we don’t see each other often and none of them appear to have much of an interest in this aspect of their identity. There is absolutely no right or wrong way for an adoptee to feel. And I’m so thankful for the presence of these KAD friends in my life since childhood, even if we don’t talk adoptee stuff. The fact that I know them and that others are out there normalizes the experience so much. I feel as though being a KAD automatically makes me part of a large, if somewhat unspoken, community. I’m learning that I’m an adoptee who not only wants to, but needs to feel connected to that community.

A room of our own

At this point in my life, I am not extremely close to any other TRAs (transracial adoptees). There is that small handful of childhood friends from adoption group whom I still see a few times a year. Even though we have all grown up and gone separate ways, our families maintain a connection that cannot be replaced. I do treasure these relationships and think of them as family. This week in particular I cannot help but think of them. One is getting married this Saturday. My mom and I are really thrilled to be attending the wedding. I've known this girl since we were three maybe? It's incredible. (And now I'm reminded that I must get a tube of waterproof mascara for the occasion.) I also recently hung out with another KAD friend (the one with the unrequited crush). He told me that a girl once mistook him for the only other Asian boy in the high school. You know, because 'all Asians look the same'. Ouch. It's not exactly a picnic recalling those times being offended or hurt, but it's a comfort to know we weren't alone. Thank goodness for other adoptees. We need each other's voices, maybe more than we realize.

I think that at some point I would like to join an adult adoptee group. Or form one myself, depending on where I'm living and if there's a need. It's hard right now as I'm a graduate student without a notion as to where I'll be in a year (besides employed..fingers crossed!). About a month ago, I did attend an online seminar about starting adult adoptee support groups. I found it to be very useful and especially loved that all the speakers were adoptees themselves who started their own groups. Each group was unique in its own way. One question that cropped up a few times throughout the seminar was whether to keep groups closed to adoptees only or to include their families/support systems. It got me thinking, too. I think there are benefits to both formats, but I admittedly lean more towards the 'adoptees only' approach. Or perhaps a compromise in which the group does an occasional event including everyone. Adoption, without a doubt, affects many people and certainly not just the adoptee. However, I just like the idea of adoptees having a room of their own to express what is on their minds without fear of being judged by someone who has not been in their shoes. My childhood adoptee friends mean so much to me, even though we've grown apart in some ways. I want to be able to maintain relationships with other adoptees throughout my adulthood. I need them. And I'm an independent person who has an impossibly hard time admitting that I need anyone, but I ultimately don't believe that people, adopted or not, are meant to walk through life alone. We need each other's voices. We need each other.

Drop in the ocean

It’s a humbling experience, pulling back that lens you see the world through to view your life as one piece in a huge, ever-changing system of people and beliefs. Sometimes it’s so easy to get caught up in what you see up close. For most of my life, I have viewed my adoption in this way. I belonged to an adoption group and had a few adoptee friends in my childhood, so I knew I wasn’t alone, but still. I am the only Asian in my white family as well as an only child. I was one of maybe four total Asian kids at a high school of 1200. Growing up in the United States, I was raised under westernized ideals, which I interpret as putting high value on individuality and independence. Basically, I grew up feeling pretty darn unique. I was quite convinced that few people, if any at all, could truly understand me. Even now, there are still times when I curl into that self-absorbed, misunderstood ball. It’s certainly not something I’m proud of, but I try to face it.

In starting this blog, I have come to discover the incredible amount of adoptee voice and resources out there. Holy cow! The scholarly literature, memoirs, poetry, organizations, conferences.. I’ve been so isolated from all of it. Entering this adoption blogosphere has been overwhelming. Going from feeling alone to feeling like one of thousands is incredibly humbling. I can scarcely take it all in. There are so many smart, sincere and eloquent people getting their thoughts out there. Some have been blogging for years. Some stopped blogging years ago, but I still find myself entranced by their dust-covered words. All these amazing contributions make me want to re-assess why I’m here and why I’m doing this. In this sea of voices, what can I offer? I feel like I’ve entered a party unforgivably late. I want to be here, though, and I’m already learning so much. The adoption community is bigger and more present than I ever realized. I hope that I can start feeling like a part of it again.