Do adoptees potentially experience the death of their adoptive parents differently because of their adoption? This is the latest question rolling around in my head. We've all got baggage and adoptees in particular get strapped with 'abandonment issues'. Not every adoptee will identify as feeling abandoned. For most of my life, I did not. But somewhere in the recesses of my mind this thread lingers. Does the death of adoptive parents represent, in its own way, a second abandonment to adoptees?
The first time this thought occurred to me was after watching the documentary Adopted. Jennifer Fero, an adult Korean adoptee featured, was dealing not only with issues related to being transracially adopted, but also the scary situation of her mother being diagnosed with terminal brain cancer. Towards the end of the documentary, it was revealed that her father had a late stage form of cancer as well. I wish I could remember if Jennifer had said anything specifically about losing both of her parents. I can't remember now, but I wondered what was going through her head being so young (only in her thirties I think) with the prospect of both parents leaving her. The whole situation was haunting to me.
There are two times in my life that there was a distinct possibility my mom could die. And both times were hell. The nightmares of my life. My dad died unexpectedly when I was one and I'm an only child. The thought of losing my mom was too much to bear. How could I possibly afford to lose another set of parents? What was so incredibly wrong with the universe that my fate was to be left alone again? Abandoned again? There is no worse feeling. The dominant culture says that we all need a permanent, loving, immediate family. They're your world, your lens through which you learn and navigate life. What becomes of you when you lose that context?
I think the death of a parent for anyone can be unspeakably painful. It's a tremendous loss. It changes your world. And if you're an adoptee, it may compound on top of an existing loss of your first family and first culture. I'm not sure what it all means, but it's a fascinating albeit heavy topic to think about. I've tried to look up articles, books, anything on adoptees and the death of adoptive parents, but I haven't come up with much at all. If anyone reading this knows of any resources, please let me know. And thanks for sticking with me through a morbid subject. I know that talking about death makes many if not most people uncomfortable. I recently found out that a fellow KAD's parent is terminally ill with possibly only weeks left to live. What a heartbreaking experience. It's something I've had just a small taste of, but, wow, is it ever hard to get that taste out of your mouth.
Showing posts with label post adoption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label post adoption. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
Location, location, location
Well, I took the plunge. I am now living, officially, away from home for the first time. The lease is signed. I opened a bank account, changed my address on my license and all those good things. I am a little nervous, mostly because I have yet to secure employment, but it’s exciting to be here, too. A number of months ago, I wasn’t sure I’d have the guts to make this move. After a lot of tears, sleepless nights and discussions with my mom, here I am. They sure call them growing pains for a reason, don’t they?
There are a number of reasons why I chose to make the move and I will freely admit that one of them is to connect more closely with Korean culture and other adoptees. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how difficult it can be connecting with Korean adoptees when you don’t live in a big city. The area I’m in isn’t huge, but it is definitely a step up from my tiny suburban hometown which has no significant Korean community or adoptee organization to speak of. Where I grew up is not a bad place to live by any means. It just doesn’t provide what I need anymore. My Korean heritage has become so important to me and the thought of living anywhere that stifles my ability to explore it..hurts. It’s isolating. I needed to break out of those confines.
And I know I’m not the first one to feel this way. Based solely on my own observations, I have noticed something about the Korean adult adoptees I know. Those who are more interested in their heritage tend to live in bigger cities where there is greater diversity and opportunity. Those who are not as interested tend to live in smaller communities where there are fewer opportunities to explore their birth culture. It kind of makes sense. I don’t want to be one hour away from the nearest place that serves soondubu jigae, but someone who never acquired a taste for it wouldn’t miss it!
I don’t know that I can say I regret growing up a Korean child in such a non-Korean place. Can you regret decisions you didn’t make? I don’t really hold a lot of resentment, but sometimes it makes me sad to reflect on the ways in which I was isolated as a girl. Aside from the fellow adoptees I knew through adoption group, I had no Asian friends. I couldn’t use chopsticks or speak a lick of Korean. I didn’t have any Asian adults as role models growing up, either. And now, at 25, it seems I’m trying to make up for lost time. Now I think about the youngest generation of Korean adoptees. Some of them are probably growing up in small, non-diverse areas just as I did. Are they getting what they need? Is it different today than when I was young? I hope so, but I don’t know enough to be sure.
Deep down, I know I won’t settle in my hometown again unless/until my mom ages to the point of needing me there. She’s my mom. I’ll always come back for her. But when I think to the long-term of where I want to spend my life, I want to live someplace that I love where I can be the person I want to be. If I ever have children one day, I want us to live somewhere that I can adequately share my roots with them..because my roots will become their roots as well. And even if they end up not being interested, they at least deserve to know that their heritage is always there for them, ready for them to embrace it at any moment.
There are a number of reasons why I chose to make the move and I will freely admit that one of them is to connect more closely with Korean culture and other adoptees. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how difficult it can be connecting with Korean adoptees when you don’t live in a big city. The area I’m in isn’t huge, but it is definitely a step up from my tiny suburban hometown which has no significant Korean community or adoptee organization to speak of. Where I grew up is not a bad place to live by any means. It just doesn’t provide what I need anymore. My Korean heritage has become so important to me and the thought of living anywhere that stifles my ability to explore it..hurts. It’s isolating. I needed to break out of those confines.
And I know I’m not the first one to feel this way. Based solely on my own observations, I have noticed something about the Korean adult adoptees I know. Those who are more interested in their heritage tend to live in bigger cities where there is greater diversity and opportunity. Those who are not as interested tend to live in smaller communities where there are fewer opportunities to explore their birth culture. It kind of makes sense. I don’t want to be one hour away from the nearest place that serves soondubu jigae, but someone who never acquired a taste for it wouldn’t miss it!
I don’t know that I can say I regret growing up a Korean child in such a non-Korean place. Can you regret decisions you didn’t make? I don’t really hold a lot of resentment, but sometimes it makes me sad to reflect on the ways in which I was isolated as a girl. Aside from the fellow adoptees I knew through adoption group, I had no Asian friends. I couldn’t use chopsticks or speak a lick of Korean. I didn’t have any Asian adults as role models growing up, either. And now, at 25, it seems I’m trying to make up for lost time. Now I think about the youngest generation of Korean adoptees. Some of them are probably growing up in small, non-diverse areas just as I did. Are they getting what they need? Is it different today than when I was young? I hope so, but I don’t know enough to be sure.
Deep down, I know I won’t settle in my hometown again unless/until my mom ages to the point of needing me there. She’s my mom. I’ll always come back for her. But when I think to the long-term of where I want to spend my life, I want to live someplace that I love where I can be the person I want to be. If I ever have children one day, I want us to live somewhere that I can adequately share my roots with them..because my roots will become their roots as well. And even if they end up not being interested, they at least deserve to know that their heritage is always there for them, ready for them to embrace it at any moment.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
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.
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.
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