~에 의해 케일라 커티스, 호주에서 자란 한국 입양인, 사회 복지사 및 입양 전문 상담사.
나는 케이박스 입양인 인수의 밤 몰트하우스에서 9월 9일 호주 멜버른에서 Ra Chapman의 K-Box 경기를 관람했습니다.
개인적으로 보고나서 설렘을 느낀다. 케이박스 대면하고 감정적 인 명료함으로 내 개인적인 입양 경험을 많이 포착했기 때문입니다. 그 후 Ra에 대한 내 의견은 다음과 같습니다. 다른 사람들, 특히 우리 가족에게는 너무 은밀하고 보이지 않는 불편하고 직면한 문제를 포함하여 우리가 탐색해야 하는 일부에 빛을 비추어 주셔서 감사합니다.”
케이박스 현재 멜버른에 거주하고 있는 남호주 한인 입양인인 Ra Chapman이 각본과 감독을 맡았습니다. 이 연극은 호주 국제 입양인 경험의 복잡성과 뉘앙스를 밝히고 국제 입양인을 주인공으로 둔 최초의 독특한 연극입니다. Ra는 그녀와 다른 입양인들이 입양의 경험을 바탕으로 연극을 썼습니다. 금요일 밤에 연극을 본 입양인의 피드백은 입양인의 경험을 묘사하는 것이 관련이 있을 뿐만 아니라 자신의 입양 경험을 자극적이고 진실되게 표현했다는 것입니다.
연극은 30세 이상의 한국 입양인이 양부모와 관계를 탐색하는 이야기였으며 입양이 그녀의 삶에 미친 영향, 즉 입양이 그녀의 정체성, 그녀의 내부 작업 모델, 자신에 대한 감각과 양부모와의 유대감. 정체성, 소속감, 상실과 슬픔, 인종, 입양의 평생 영향, 인종차별, 고정관념, 애착, 소속감, 백인 특권/백인 워싱, '단일 이야기의 위험', 입양 문제에 대해 이야기하고 가족과 이러한 어려운 토론을 탐색하는 방법. 연극이 잘한 것은 이러한 핵심 문제가 이해, 검증, 탐구 또는 지원되지 않을 때 입양인과 가족 관계에 미치는 영향을 탐구한 것입니다. 이러한 문제를 탐색하고 관심을 갖기 시작하는 많은 입양인에게 정상적인 것처럼 입양 '동화' 또는 '행복한 입양' 이야기가 분리되기 시작하면서 가족 관계에 불안정한 영향이 있을 수 있습니다.
입양 분야에서 일하는 모든 전문가에게 이 놀이는 국제 입양인이 입양 경험과 입양 가족 내에서 탐색해야 하는 역학, 관계, 인종 간 경험 및 도전에 대한 깊고 귀중한 통찰력을 제공하는 훌륭한 리소스입니다. 물론 코미디와 풍자를 활용한 극과 감정의 강렬하고 아름다운 독백, 상징주의를 극명하게 전달한 것은 친밀한 네 명의 배우들의 뛰어난 연기가 돋보인다.
그것은 강력하게 전달되고 받아들여졌고, 참석한 많은 입양인들은 감정적이고 불안정한 느낌을 받았지만 연결되고, 보고, 지원받았습니다. 마찬가지로, 입양 부모는 자녀의 입양에서 자신의 역할에 대해 확신이 서지 않고, 직면하고, 호기심을 갖게 될 수도 있습니다. 결국, 입양인과 부모 모두를 하나로 모아 입양 경험에 대해 협력하고 입양인의 여정을 더 잘할 수 있는 가능성을 열어준다고 생각합니다.
연극이 끝난 후 나는 입양인의 창의적인 작업과 프로젝트를 공유하는 감동적인 연설과 다른 공연을 높이 평가했습니다. 또한 저녁에는 내가 기대하는 바에 따라 밀접하게 따를 예정인 다른 흥미로운 입양인 주도 프로젝트와 개발 중인 창의적인 작업에 대해 언급했습니다.
저녁에 나에게 가장 중요한 점은 이 행사를 통해 입양인들이 함께 모일 수 있었던 놀라운 방식이었습니다. 이것은 지역 사회에 둘러싸여 있을 때 입양인의 집단적인 치유력을 강조하고, 안전하고 지원되는 방식으로 입양인의 목소리를 높이고, 보고 듣고 느끼는 강한 소속감. 호주 입양인 커뮤니티가 강해지고 있다는 사실을 알게 되어 기쁩니다!
저는 우리가 커뮤니티로서 함께 개방적이고 환영받는 토론을 계속할 수 있기를 바랍니다. 그래서 우리 모두는 특히 입양인에게서 실제 경험을 가진 사람들로부터 배울 수 있는 혜택을 받을 수 있습니다.
친애하는 Ra, 귀하의 강력한 영향력과 귀하의 창의적인 작업이 우리의 모든 학습을 형성하고 호주 입양 커뮤니티의 역량을 강화하는 데 어떻게 도움이 되는지 알려주세요.
대부분의 사람들은 입양이 모두 합법적이고 합법적이라고 생각합니다. 대부분의 사람들은 입양인이 첫 어머니를 만나고 싶어한다고 가정합니다. Aimee의 이야기는 모든 입양이 합법적인 것은 아니며 미디어의 개입이 재결합을 원하지도, 준비하지도 않은 입양인에게 항상 도움이 되거나 친절하지 않다는 가혹한 현실을 강조합니다.
이 비디오에서 공유되지 않은 Aimee의 이야기의 가장 나쁜 부분은 대만 정부가 그녀의 불법 입양에 책임이 있는 인신매매자들을 기소했음에도 불구하고 현재까지 대만 정부나 호주 정부가 Aimee를 돕기 위해 아무 것도 제안하지 않았다는 것입니다. 불법 입양의 지속적인 영향을 다루는 구체적인 방법. 기소된 대만의 Julie Chu 인신매매 조직의 결과인 Aimee와 함께 호주에는 전체 대만 입양인 집단이 있습니다. 아무도 이 입양인을 확인하고 입양이 어떻게 되었는지 알려주거나 구체적인 지원을 알리기 위해 후속 조치를 취하지 않았습니다.
저는 Meseret이 우리 지역의 또 다른 나이든 국제 입양인으로서 공유하는 메시지를 정말 좋아합니다. 비디오 시리즈. 이는 예비 부모에게 자녀가 새로운 입양 가족 및 국가로 돌아오기 전의 경험과 삶을 존중하라는 메시지를 제공합니다. 특히 언어가 장벽일 때 입양인이 새 가족을 "신뢰"하기를 기대하는 것이 얼마나 어려운지 일깨워줍니다. 그것은 우리가 노령 입양을 시작할 때 가족의 필요를 지원하는 것에 대해 현실적으로 도움이 됩니다.
국제 입양인으로서의 경험과 삶의 관점을 공개적으로 공유하는 8명의 놀라운 사람들을 촬영한 지 1년이 조금 넘었다는 것이 믿기지 않습니다. 앞으로 몇 주 동안 YouTube의 개별 동영상을 강조하고 비디오 시리즈, 입양인이 되는 것의 복잡성에 대해 공유하는 데 도움이 됩니다.
다음은 어린 나이에 아이티에서 호주로 입양된 조나스의 내면의 평화를 찾는 여정에 대해 이야기하는 조나스입니다. 특히 소수의 롤 모델이나 인종적 거울과 함께 침묵 속에서 고군분투하는 젊은 유색인종 남성 입양인을 위해 공유할 가치가 있습니다. 입양되는 것이 항상 끝없는 투쟁을 의미하는 것은 아닙니다. Jonas는 여정이 아무리 험난하더라도 시작을 탐구하고 현실을 받아들이고 길을 찾기 위해 열심히 노력할 때 수용과 평화의 장소에 도달할 수 있다고 말합니다.
~에 의해 샤리스 마리아 디아즈, born as Mary Pike Law, cross cultural adoptee born in Puerto Rico
Pote de leche are Spanish words for “milk bottle”. Where I was born, this is how someone is described when they are too white. Yes, too white. That is what I was called at school when bullied. In my teens, I spent many Sundays sunbathing in the backyard of our home. This was one of the many ways I tried to fit in.
My tendency has been to consider myself a transcultural adoptee and not a transracial adoptee, because my adoptive parents were Caucasian like me. Recently, I realized their looks do not make my experience too different from the experience of any transracial adoptee. I was born in Puerto Rico from an American mother and English father and adopted by a Puerto Rican couple. Puerto Ricans have a mix of Native Taino, European and African genes, our skin colors are as varied as the colors of a rainbow. The most common skin tones go from golden honey to cinnamon. For some, I looked like a little milk-colored ghost.
My adoptive mother told me that an effort was made by the Social Services Department, which oversaw my adoption process, to make the closest match possible. She said the only things that did not “match” with her and my adoptive father were my red hair and my parents’ (actually, my natural father’s) religion. I was supposed to be an Anglican but was going to be raised as a Catholic. This was part of the brief information she gave me about my parents, when she confessed that they were not dead as I had been told at 7 years old. She also admitted that I was not born in Quebec, which they also made me believe. I was born in Ponce, the biggest city on the southern shore of the island. She gave me this information when I was 21 years old.
So, at 21 years of age, I discovered that I was a legitimate Puerto Rican born in the island, and also that my natural father was an English engineer and my natural mother was Canadian. I was happy about the first fact and astonished about the rest. Suddenly, I was half English and half Canadian. At 48 years old I found my original family on my mother’s side. Then I discovered this was a misleading fact about my mother. She was an American who happened to be born in Ontario because my grandfather was working there by that time. I grew up believing I was a Québéquois, after that I spent more than two decades believing that I was half Canadian. All my life I had believed things about myself that were not true.
I learned another extremely important fact about my mother. She was an abstract-expressionist painter, a detail that was hidden by my adoptive family in spite of my obvious artistic talent. I started drawing on walls at 2 years old. My adoptive parents believed that art was to be nothing more than a hobby, it was not a worthy field for an intelligent girl who respected herself and that happened to be their daughter. This did not stop me, anyway. After a bachelor’s degree in Mass Communication and a short career as a copywriter, I became a full-time painter at the age of 30. To discover that my mother was a painter, years later, was mind-blowing.
Identity construction or identity formation is the process in which humans develop a clear and unique view of themselves, of who they are. According to Erik Erikson’s psychosocial stages of development, this process takes place during our teen years, where we explore many aspects of our identities. It concludes at 18 years old, or, as more recent research suggests, in the early twenties. By that age we should have developed a clear vision of the person we are. How was I supposed to reach a conclusion about who I was, when I lacked important information about myself?
My search for my original family started when there was no internet, and it took me more than 20 years to find them. I did not arrive in time to meet my mother. A lifelong smoker, she had died of lung cancer. I connected with my half-siblings, all of them older than me. They were born during her marriage previous to her relationship with my father. Two of them were old enough to remember her pregnancy. They had been enthusiastically waiting for the new baby, just to be told that I was stillborn, news that hurt them so much. Before she passed away, my mother confessed to my siblings that I was relinquished for adoption. Through them, I learned what a difficult choice it was for my mother to let me go.
During my search, well-known discrimination against Latinos in sectors of the American culture gave me an additional motive to fear rejection. I didn’t know I had nothing to worry about. My siblings welcomed me with open arms. Reconnecting with them has been such a heartwarming, comforting, life-changing experience. We are united not only by blood, but also by art, music, literature, and by ideas in common about so many things, including our rejection of racism. It was baffling to learn that my opinions about society and politics are so similar to my natural parents’ points of view, which were different, and sometimes even opposite to my adoptive parents’ beliefs.
My siblings remember my father, their stepfather, fondly. With their help I was able to confirm on the Internet that he had passed away too. His life was a mystery not only to me, but to them too. A few years later, I finally discovered his whereabouts. He lived many years in Australia and was a community broadcasting pioneer. A classical music lover, he helped to establish Sydney-based radio station 2MBS-FM and worked to promote the growth of the public broadcasting sector. His contributions granted him the distinction of being appointed OBE by the British government. My mind was blown away for a second time when I learned that he had dedicated his life to a field related to mass communication, which was my career of choice before painting. My eldest half-brother on his side was the first relative I was able to contact. “Quite a surprise!”, he wrote the day he found out that he had a new sister. Huge surprise, indeed. My father never told anyone about my existence. Now I got to know my half-siblings and other family members on his side too. They are a big family, and I am delighted to keep in touch with them.
With each new piece of information about my parents and my heritage, adjustments had to be made to the concept of who I am. To be an international, transcultural, transracial adoptee can be terribly disorienting. We grow up wondering not only about our original families, but also about our cultural roots. We grow up feeling we are different from everyone around us, in so many subtle and not so subtle ways… In my case, feeling I am Puerto Rican, but not completely Puerto Rican. Because I may consider myself a true Boricua (the Taino demonym after the original name of the island, Borikén), but in tourist areas people address me in English, and some are astonished to hear me answer in Spanish. More recently, I have pondered if my reserved nature, my formal demeanor, my cool reactions may be inherited English traits. And getting to know about my parents, even some of my tastes, like what I like to eat and the music I love, has made more sense. But in cultural terms I am not American or British enough to be able to wholly consider myself any of these. Where do I belong, then? And how can I achieve completion of my identity under these conditions? It is a natural human need to belong. Many times I have felt rootless. In limbo.
A great number of international adoptees have been adopted into Anglo-Saxon countries, mostly United States and Australia, and many of them come from places considered developing countries. The international adoptee community, which has found in social media a great tool to communicate, receive and give support, and get organized, encourages transracial and transcultural adoptees to connect with their roots. My case is a rare one, because it is the opposite of the majority. I was adopted from the Anglo-Saxon culture to a Latin American culture. I never imagined that this would put me in a delicate position.
Puerto Rico has a 500-year-old Hispanic culture. I am in love with the Spanish language, with its richness and infinite subtleties. I feel so honored and grateful to have this as my first language. We study the English language starting at first grade of elementary school, because we are a United States’ territory since 1898, as a result of the Spanish-American war. We are United States citizens since 1914. We have an independentist sector and an autonomist sector which are very protective of our culture. Historically, there has been a generalized resistance to learning English. In my case, I seem to have some ability with languages and made a conscious effort to achieve fluency, for practical reasons but also because it is the language of my parents and my ancestors.
In 2019 I traveled to Connecticut to meet my eldest half-brother on my mother’s side. That year, a close friend who knew about my reunion with natural family told me that someone in our circle had criticized the frequency of my social media posts in the English language. Now that I am in touch with my family, I have been posting more content in English, and it seems this makes some people uncomfortable. But the most surprising part is that even a member of my natural family has told me that I am a real Boricua and should be proud of it. I was astonished. Who says I am not proud? I have no doubt that this person had good intentions, but no one can do this for me. Who or what I am is for me to decide. But the point is some people seem to believe that connecting with my Anglo-Saxon roots implies a rejection of Puerto Rican culture or that I consider being Puerto Rican an inferior condition, something not far from racism. Nothing could be farther from the truth! I was born in Puerto Rico and love my culture.
Puerto Rico’s situation is complicated, in consequence my identity issues became complicated. I am aware of our island’s subordinated position to a Caucasian English-speaking country; that this circumstance has caused injustices against our people; that our uniqueness needs to be protected and celebrated. Being aware sometimes makes our lives more difficult, because we understand the deep implications of situations. There was a time when I felt torn by the awareness of my reality: being Puerto Rican and also being linked by my ancestry to two cultures which for centuries dedicated their efforts to Imperialism. I am even related through my father to Admiral Horatio Nelson, a historical character that embodies British imperialism. How to reconcile that to my island’s colonial history and situation? Where I was going to put my loyalty? To feel that I was being judged for reconnecting to my original cultures – something every international adoptee is encouraged to do – did not help me in the task of answering these difficult questions.
Even when they were not perfect and made mistakes, my natural parents were good people with qualities I admire. The more I get to know them, the more I love them. The more I know them, the more I see them in me. If I love them, I cannot reject where they came from, which is also a basic part of who I am. Therefore, I have concluded that I cannot exclude their cultures from my identity construction process.
To connect to these cultures until I feel they are also mine is a process. I am not sure if I will ever achieve this, but I am determined to go through this process without any feelings of guilt. To do so is a duty to myself, to be able to become whole and have a real, or at least a better sense of who I am. And it is not only a duty, it is also my right.