Adoptee Activism in America

Lyssna på Adoptee Voices

Adoptee advocacy and activism for me, is about adoptee healing and claiming back our power.

This week has been so powerful but raw on so many levels. I have travelled to America to attend the Dept of State’s Intercountry Adoption Symposium (Sept 17 & 18) which brought together all the government bodies and NGOs related to, and fulfilling, intercountry adoption processes, the accredited entities which include IAAME and the adoption agencies, and for the first time, representation from the adoption triad. I was invited to speak and represent intercountry adoptees.

After the Symposium ended, some of our American intercountry adoptee leaders and individuals who wished to be involved at government policy and practice level, met with the Dept of State (Sept 19) and had a chat about how we might interact/liaise together in the future and what our goals are and issues of concern.

The following are my thoughts after attending these past three days.

Hearing the same chants for “more adoption” that I’ve read about across the waters but got to experience for real, has been nothing short of gut wrenching.

Getting to personally understand the life experiences of some of my fellow activists has been an honor.

The question was asked to our adoptee group why few American intercountry adoptees in recent years, had until now, not risen to involve themselves at policy level.

After being in America for a week, seeing the level of anger for those who dare to voice any truth that doesn’t match the “we want more children” chant has been a massive reality check. America the land of the free! Well, I see it’s more the land of the free for those who share the dominant discourse — but it can also be unkind and lacking compassion to those who express a different story.

The scale and depth at which intercountry adoption has been conducted in America, that adds avoidable emotional damage to some adoptees, has finally helped me understand why their voices have not been at the table. The ability to rise above one’s terrible reality of adoption is a massive ask. What struck me in coming to personally understand these journeys en-masse over the years I’ve been connecting to fellow adoptees, is how much worse it is here in terms of size and scale. It is not just the historic adoptions from the 50s to 80s. I’m meeting adoptees from the 90s to 2010s and hear the same terrible experiences! I’m also not denying there are probably a ton of intercountry adoptees who have little motivation to make things better because they already had it wonderful. Their reality is not dismissed and neither should the other range of experiences across the spectrum.

Some of the audience responses were so dismissive of our struggles citing that we were just a “moment in time”, or unlucky enough to be a consequence of “a few bad apples”. As I said on day 1 in response to Laura Ingraham’s speech, one terrible adoptee experience is one too many! So please, if you really want to hear what we have to say as adoptees, believe me when I say – “these bad apple adoptions are still happening since the past 20 years”.

Hearing calls and support for “less regulation” and “streamlining” is not the answer in the face of the huge reality. What do we need governments and stakeholders to do differently that hasn’t been done, either at all, or enough? We need them to acknowledge the wrongs of the past to the present. We need full acknowledgement that the decisions made FOR us as vulnerable children, have been terribly painful, terribly damaging for too many .. we need to hear it not just once, but over and over many times so that we know you do not forget the mistakes of the past and those who have been a victim, can feel safe knowing we have learnt the lessons, or at least are trying to.

From my own personal journey of healing, I know how incredibly important it is to hear, “I’m sorry it has been a terribly hurtful experience” from a heartfelt place. Not only do we need to hear that you’ve heard and acknowledged our pain, we need you to give us time to then process that acknowledgement, allow us to move further in our journey — and then ask us to focus and work together on how we prevent it from ever happening again.

For adoptees it is terribly triggering to be dismissed, our reality denied, and our concerns brushed over with “it’s not like that now”. Yes things have changed … drastically, but they need to change more! Support services for the duration of our lifetime, need to be implemented that help us move past the damage. We need reparation that allows out of the box solutions for individual journeys of healing. We need to see that sending children back AS SOON AS WE KNOW something isn’t looking right, is totally a first option that will be supported by all the players who facilitated the adoption. Keeping the child as the only option adds further complications that we adoptees are eventually left to sift through.

People and countries make mistakes .. we are only human. What’s currently missing is the acknowledgement and the sensitivity across the SPECTRUM of players to recognise the trauma from decades (yes, 70 years!) of intercountry adoptions done poorly. The reality that the current and previous American administrations have failed to address intercountry adoptee citizenship, the basic cornerstone of permanence, continuity, and family— clearly demonstrates how little understanding and support exists for the displaced adoptee. This is brushing the wrongs of the past under the carpet on a massive scale!

I realise why adoptees have not been at the table pushing their way in. The depths of pain can be too raw and the risk of receiving further trauma by those who invalidate our experiences, is incredibly high. For a country as religious as America, it sure has little understanding of the need for the power of healing and the acknowledgement of wrong doing. All Americans should be praying not for adoptions to be increased but for the ones who are here already, to be given the right support in order for them to find healing. For the ones deported to be given the supports they need along with their broken up families.

Only once we are fully supported to heal as those who have already suffered, can we truly contemplate ethically adopting more — at least then, we can be confident that despite mistakes being made, the great America has the maturity to help the victims overcome.

My heart breaks for my American brothers and sisters who struggle to rise from out of their ashes. I found it fascinating to see the 9/11 section of the Newseum and the way in which so much compassion is portrayed for those victims, yet in intercountry adoption – I ask where is that same compassion? Is there any recognition of the collective suffering that too many generations of intercountry adoptees have been experiencing in America?!

No! They remain a blip on the radar screen, barely seen, largely misunderstood because they are cloaked with, “You should be grateful to be in this amazing country” banner which denies the tragic realities of so many!

I am compelled to lead by example and demonstrate that adoptees can find their power. My path is but one way to rise above the ashes. I have learned for myself how incredibly healing it is to turn my pains into triumphs and to attempt to make this world a better place and I always wonder what I would have achieved had I been left in Vietnam (my adoptee sliding door/ parallel universe musing). This path of adoptee advocacy is my way to make sense of my adoption and life . Perhaps I was saved to give this message — to be this voice, to truly represent the “child’s best interest” and make sure it is not shoved away?

I hope that this week has been the beginning of the start, that momentum will flow because …

it only takes one to take a stand for truth, for another to find their courage.

What a week of learning, what a week of connecting! I hope America will come to embrace the mistakes of its past in intercountry adoption and provide a safe space for the many intercountry adoptees who need healing and be given many places at the table, not just one place filled by an Australian/Vietnamese.

I also want to acknowledge the many true supporters of adoptees who came from so many stakeholders groups. It is incorrect to assume all government workers, all agencies, all adoptive parents are against us speaking our truths. Despite the intense and sometimes times painful challenging moments, I was uplifted by the volume of supporters who told us they were so happy to see us and hear our voices. I hope I live to see the day when they will become the majority AND the loudest voice we hear from.

I was told that supportive adoptive parents have sat back from the table, out of respect to allow us adoptees to take the platform, to make space for us — but I want to tell those parents and advocates, please don’t be silent in your support. We are at a critical point where intercountry adoptee leadership is emerging and we need ALL the support we can muster.

What I deeply respected was my fellow panelist, the natural mother representative, Claudia D’Arcy,  who demonstrated no fear in telling her truth, nor the consequences for doing so. Whether we agreed with her views or not, I imagine her journey of overcoming the stigma, fear and trauma throughout her life has helped her realise there is little to lose, in having the courage to speak her truth. As two representatives of the adoption triad, we both know “the cost of remaining silent”.

Her ending sentence was so respectful and she said, “It should be the adoptees who you listen to the most”. I can only say how much that meant to us. This is the message we need our supporters to uphold – it will encourage us to rise above our pain and fears. Please don’t be silent — it is too open to interpretation!

Huge thanks and respect to the adoptee leaders who gave of their time, money, and energy to be at these forums.

Joy Alessi – adopted from South Korea, co-director of Adoptee Rights Campaign.

Cherish Bolton – adopted from India, co-director of PEAR, academic.

Trista Goldberg – adopted from Vietnam, founder of Operation Reunite, educator.

Marijane Huang – adopted from Taiwan, social worker in adoption and foster care, educator.

JaeRan Kim – adopted from South Korea, social worker and PhD research academic.

Kristopher Larsen – adopted from Vietnam, co-director of Adoptees4Justice.

Monica Lindgren – adopted from Colombia, barrister in family law.

Reshma McClintock – adopted from India, founder of Dear Adoption, co-founder Family Preservation365.

Patricia Motley – adopted from Peru, member of Peruvian Adoptees Worldwide.

Diego Vitelli – adopted from Colombia, founder of Adopted from Colombia, studying masters in counselling.

Resurs

Lived Experience Responses for Illicit & Illegal Adoptions, presented at The Hague Working Group July 2020.

Embracing our Origins

As an intercountry adoptee from the early 70s era, I became so assimilated into my adoptive country’s white culture and value system that it wasn’t until I reached adulthood, that I became keenly aware of  being disconnected from my intrinsic and inherent origins and wanted to do something about reclaiming them back.

At various stages throughout my adult journey of adoption, I began to unravel and explore my origins which included exploring the language, the religions, the foods, the customs and value systems of my birth land. This can also include exploring and embracing the ways one’s birth culture celebrates certain milestones.

Traditional Vietnamese Wedding Dress

A huge change over time for me has been that when I married, I felt so totally Australian that I didn’t even consider embracing my Asian origins by wearing a traditional Vietnamese dress, the ao dai or by having my wedding embrace any of the traditional Vietnamese customs. Now, over a decade later and after returning to my birth country twice, I wish I had included elements of my Vietnamese origins into my wedding.

An Indian intercountry adoptee friend of mine, adopted to Sweden, is willing to share with you her thoughts about what it means to embrace her origins on her special wedding day. You can read Jessica’s thoughts här.

Hopefully, by sharing our thoughts we will help other intercountry adoptees feel positive about embracing and exploring their origins. It is totally normal for intercountry adoptees to want to do this even when we are happy in our adoptive lives. It is a healthy thing to want to explore who we are racially, where we come from, exploring the customs and traditions of our origins, embracing the cultural elements we connect to and displaying it in whatever ways we feel comfortable.

Vikten av rasspeglar

Gästinlägg delas anonymt av en av ICAVs medlemmar och publicerades ursprungligen i Transracial adoption Perspectives grupp som är inrättad för att främja en större förståelse för transracial adoption för adopterande och blivande föräldrar. En utmärkt resurs och ett av de säkraste utrymmena som hanteras på Facebook, för triaden.

Återigen i går kväll befann jag mig i ett nästan helt vitt socialt utrymme (de enda färgade var jag själv och en svart/biracial kvinna). Jag var där av en mycket god anledning, och ångrar ingenting alls, och allt gick helt bra.

Men varje gång jag går in i ett helt vitt eller nästan helt vitt socialt utrymme nu, påminner det mig båda om de levda erfarenheterna från min barndom, inklusive int.en känsla av social isolering och av olikhet som jag upplevde, och av varför jag valde att pressa mig in i rasmångfald och representation så snart jag kunde, som ung vuxen, och varför jag nu har levt i levande rasmångfald och representation i en storstad under majoriteten av mina vuxna år. Att växa upp i nästan total vithet var förödande för mig, och det tog mig många år att "skala lagren av löken" och hitta mig själv som en färgad person, att "placera mig själv" som en POC, så att säga, och att centrera mig i en miljö som fungerade för mig.

Jag hade djupt kärleksfulla föräldrar, men ärligt talat visste ingen någonting under den första vågen av transracial och internationell adoption i slutet av 1950-talet och 1960-talet, och det fanns absolut NOLL resurser för adoptivföräldrar då – NOLL – och de av oss i den första vågen led som ett resultat. Mina föräldrar gjorde ett otroligt jobb med noll resurser, men ändå fick det negativa konsekvenser.

Så min önskan för de minsta transraciala och interlandsadopterade är att de inte behöver spendera flera decennier av sina liv på att hitta sin sociala plats i världen, att de hittar sina identiteter, röster och sociala utrymmen, som färgade, årtionden innan jag gjorde, att de växer upp till att bli självsäkra unga vuxna färgade. Det är faktiskt ett stort element i min känsla av mission i att vara med och grunda gruppen Transracial adoption Perspectives, var att påverka de vita adoptivföräldrarna under det andra decenniet av 2000-talet att lära sig om och erkänna några grundläggande sanningar om levde erfarenheter av transracial adopterade, för att hjälpa de minsta adopterade, som är deras barn nu.

Min resa in i helhet, integration och självförtroende som en färgad person har bokstavligen tagit mig flera decennier. Min djupaste önskan för de minsta adopterade är att de inte behöver kämpa i flera decennier för att komma till sin motsvarighet till den plats där jag är nu, för att ta flera decennier är helt enkelt en för lång resa, ärligt talat.

Jag hoppas att adoptivföräldrar runt om i världen kommer att kunna höra detta, och kommer att kunna göra vad som krävs för att stödja sina barn på deras resor. Det skulle vara en fantastisk sak, verkligen.

Tack i alla fall för att du läser och överväger detta.

Att hitta kärlek

Denny gick in i biblioteket och jag hälsade på honom vid cirkulationsdisken. Jag kände direkt att han var min själsfrände. Senare fick jag reda på att han kände precis samma sak. Han hade besökt några gånger till och sedan försvunnit i några månader. Under den tiden började jag lära mig att flyga själv. Jag arbetade hårt på biblioteket, utforskade Oahu, började blygt dejta med Tinder, och en dag stötte vi på varandra på ett gym – i trappan på alla ställen. Han gav mig sitt nummer. Nästa dag träffades vi på en naturlig livsmedelsbutik och körde till kusten tillsammans för att se havet på natten. Vi stirrade upp på en stjärnfylld himmel, stirrade vördnadsfullt på böljande moln och fick reda på hur lika vi är varandra. Det fanns en lätthet och en förtrogenhet med honom som jag aldrig hade känt förut. Vi tänker lika, sa jag förvånad till honom.

Vi är på samma våg, han sa.

Att inleda ett förhållande har varit skrämmande för mig som internationell, filippinsk-amerikansk adopterad på grund av mitt förflutna.

Igår kväll sa han till mig att han ville bli gammal med mig. Jag sa till honom att jag är rädd och han frågade mig varför.

Den här frågan fick mig att tänka, verkligen tänka.

Ett ögonblick av självupptäckt

Svaret på den frågan, låt mig till självupptäckt. Jag insåg att jag som barn förlorade den första personen jag någonsin älskat och det var min bror. Han skadade mig och måste ha krossat mitt hjärta en miljard gånger, tills jag flyttade ut vid 18. Och först i början av 30-talet började jag läka med terapi. Hela den här tiden hade jag blivit extremt upptagen av personligt arbete, konst, kreativa butiker, akademiker och andlighet, i princip undvikit relationer eftersom jag innerst inne hade varit så rädd för att vara nära någon. Detta beror på att jag hade varit rädd för att förlora det jag älskar mest.

Jag grävde djupare och kom till slut fram till en slutsats.

Jag trodde aldrig att någon någonsin skulle kunna älska mig, Jag sade.

Min rädsla för att bli kär

Denna rädsla, insåg jag, kom från traumat jag hade upplevt i min tidiga barndom. Jag kände att detta berodde på att jag kände mig övergiven av att vara föräldralös som liten. De känslorna följde mig under mina första år som bodde på ett barnhem. Det höll fast vid mig genom min adoption och flytt till Mellanvästern, och framåt, eftersom min storebror, också adopterad från Filippinerna, hade extrem PTSD. Och även om jag älskade honom djupt, triggade och traumatiserade han mig tills jag var 18.

Att inleda ett förhållande är utmanande, men Dennys hoppsord har varit fröet till en ny början och vattnat en ny känsla av att jag kan bli älskad trots min trasighet. Det vattnar hoppet att jag inte är så ensam som jag en gång var. Och i denna ständigt reformerande nutid, tror jag mer på mig själv. Jag är starkare och friskare. Och jag har hittat det som betyder mest av allt – relationen och kärleken som jag har med mig själv – för i ljuset av kärleken befinner jag mig mer och mer för varje dag.

Att övervinna utmaningar

Även om detta är fantastiskt, för att kurera mina egna svårigheter, måste jag gå i min egen takt. Jag måste förbli oberoende och fokusera på mina egna drömmar. Jag måste ge mig själv utrymme att bearbeta och göra de saker jag behöver göra för att förbli i schack med mina egna personligheter och behov. Jag är fortfarande inställd på att bli bibliotekarie. Jag är också fortfarande inställd på att vara författare och fortsätta med mina resor, samla vackra foton och artefakter av min offbeat andlighet och meditationer längs vägen.

Vid 33 år är jag en senblommare och allt jag kan säga är att det är bättre att försöka än att inte försöka alls. Att vara hoppfull är bättre att inte ha något hopp.

Att hålla dina drömmar vid liv är bättre än att leva ett liv tomt på dem.

Kärlek finns, i en myriad av former, trots gårdagens svårigheter. Och vad jag har lärt mig på den här resan för livet, är att även om du kanske inte tror på kärlek längre – kommer denna kärlek fortfarande att tro på dig.

Diskussionsfråga

Har du en framgångsrik erfarenhet av att bli kär? Hade du några utmaningar som kom från att ha ett svårt förflutet eller från att vara adopterad, och hur övervann du dessa utmaningar?

 

Vad adopterade förlorar vid internationell adoption

I normally tiptoe around adoption and never say the A word because people just don’t respond well to “adopterad ilska“. But during the month of November, I feel it is appropriate to air my feelings on what I have anger about, in intercountry adoption.

I hate that our original identities are ignored and get obliterated as if they don’t matter! I’ve never seen my identity papers because they got “lost” in transit and no-one in government at my adoptive country end, nor my adoptive family, thought to go to the ends of the earth to locate them. Perhaps they thought it wouldn’t matter because I was given a “new” life and family – and that’s all I should ever need?!

I hate that we lose our birth culture, language, religion, heritage, customs, kin, community and country. I hate that these important facets of our identity are ignored and denied. As if they don’t matter because what I gained materially from my adoptive country is assumed to make up for all the losses?!

I hate that I had to endure racism and isolation in my community whilst growing up as a child. The shame of looking non-white, the inner hatred I developed as a result because I didn’t see myself mirrored anywhere. The phrase from my adoptive family, “We love you as one of us” showed how little they understood the impacts of intercountry adoption. They couldn’t recognise my journey was any different to theirs nor did they understand the profound impact this would have on me.

I hate that people assume all adoptive homes are awesome and when we get placed in not-so-positive adoptive homes, no-one checks on us, no-one stands up for us, often our story is not believed and/or invalidated, and no-one gives us a safe place to be nurtured, respected, or cared for. As a child I felt so vulnerable and alone. It was a terrible overwhelming feeling that left me in fight or flight responses for years, with scars to wear for the rest of my life.

I hate that we live in an age where a Government apology seems to be the latest fashion accessory but yet for those adopted via illegal or questionable means, we intercountry adoptees will never get closure. A true apology would mean firstly acknowledging the wrong, then a lifelong commitment to making amends including providing financial renumeration to reflect the pain we carry forever, along with the supports required to help us restore our mental well being; and lastly to make the necessary changes to never repeat the same mistakes again.

I hate that some of my adoptee friends adopted to the USA are living a gutted life because they have been deported back to their country of birth like common commodities, shipped in and out with ease, being treated as though they are of no real value and certainly with no choice. In the majority of cases, they were placed in adoptive homes that were very damaging and their lives spiralled out of control. Isn’t adoption meant to be about “permanency“?! This week in the news headlines, an intercountry adoptee in Australia is to be deported back to the Cook Islands. It is immoral and unethical to adopt a child from one country to another when it suits, through no choice of their own, and then be sent back to birth country because they fail to live up to being an adoption success story!

I hate that thousands of my intercountry adoptee friends in the USA are living in fear everyday because they are still not given automatic citizenship. They often have no social security and cannot leave the country for fear of being picked up by immigration officials. Isn’t adoption meant to provide a forever family … och permanency in a home and country?!

I feel this anger today because it is November and around the world, many use this month to celebrate adoption and promote awareness. For me, I don’t celebrate these aspects of adoption, they make me rightfully angry and more so, when I see my experience replicated in the lives of many around the world.

At ICAV, we believe in promoting awareness of the impacts of intercountry adoption ALL year round, not just in November.

I hope after reading this, you will all also be rightfully angry at the things intercountry adoptees LOSE because of our adoption.

My goal is to encourage adoptees to turn that rightful anger into an appropriate energy:

  • to educate the wider community and enhance a deeper understanding of the complexities involved in intercountry adoption;
  • to push for the much needed social, political, legal, and economic changes that cause inequality and leave many of our families with little choice;
  • to help prevent adoption where necessary by supporting family reunification initiatives and advocating for this in our birth countries;
  • and if adoption has to be the last resort, to help improve the way we conduct intercountry adoption such as changing it from our plenary system to simple adoptions; and supporting Allt triad members throughout the lifelong journey.

I also acknowledge there are many other less scarey emotions and thoughts we can talk about in intercountry adoption, but at ICAV, I like to raise awareness about the issues that don’t normally get aired.

There are plenty who speak of the positives in adoption … but not many who openly share the not-so-positive aspects. In speaking out, I aim to help balance out the discussions in intercountry and transracial adoption.

Being Alone

I get up in the morning and I try. That’s basically what it’s like every morning as an adult adoptee. Whenever I look back in my mind, my past stretches past a million acres of difficult terrain that’s emotionally challenging and left psychological imprints on me. An adoptive family I never got that close with. A birth family in the Philippines that I met but also couldn’t get close with. Memories that are warm and fuzzy, hard and cold; and the cherished ones I made for myself growing up in the Midwest of the United States that are whimsical–full of bright stars, meditation, books and humorous moments.

As an adult adoptee, I am 33, and I recognize that it’s taken me longer to do many things. It took me longer to find myself, love myself, search for answers, travel, learn about my “sanskaras” or psychological/emotional/spiritual imprints made within me from how I was born, raised and developed as a child through adulthood. It’s taken me longer to understand the world and myself, push past my own fears and barriers, and finally, have healthy relationships which is one of my ultimate goals. It’s taken me longer to find my callings in life and professions that suit my personality and talents too.

What I want to stress in this blog is being alone. It’s hard to address because I wish I were more popular and successful as a person but I’m going to write where I am in life now. I’ve been more isolated as a human being in this world and I believe it’s due to my own hardships. Due to its own uniqueness, I’ve had to work on my problems alone, solve them on my own and seek therapies and healing modalities that best suit me as I’ve gotten older. I don’t know if anyone else relates to this, but it is hard doing all of this and feeling so alone.

A difficult hurtle has been to forgive and accept myself for where I am today. I have flaws, quirks and imperfections. I’m often hard on myself for being sort of odd. I know I don’t fit the image of being normal. I get tired of my ups and downs and everyday is a hurtle onwards. I know I’m at-risk due to my complex background and undiagnosed PTSD, which calls for tight management on myself. I have to constantly be vigilant on my therapies, keeping mentally positive, keeping connected with life and God as best as I can, and keep open and social with others even though it’s hard. Every day.

In the end, I can’t give up. Some answers for my own life is to substitute teach for the day, work in a library or go home and shut out the world, turn on music, make art and journal write. Living in Northern Arizona, I like to hike, drive out to Sedona and visit my favorite stupa or drive to my favorite Buddhist institute, the Garchen Buddhist Institute in Chino Valley, Arizona where I learn, meet others and practice in what I’m passionate about. I feel alone, but every day, I work on my goals, as well as forgiving, letting go, accepting myself and embracing the world as it is. Being in nature helps. And, always learning.

It is a fight at times but it’s worth it.

I began alone in this world but we all do. This life itself has been my most challenging story to tell, a story beyond words. A human story that has so many threads, and naturally, some threads will break in places when worn too thin. But this is where I pick up and weave my own story. This is where I can live all over again in a new way. And, this is where I can connect with others and move forward from the past, by living in the present.

So in this month of November during National Adoption Awareness Month, I encourage everyone reading this, and any who can relate, to keep trying. Every day is a hurtle, a journey, a timeless opportunity of creation. Every day, we can live and weave this life with what we’re given. Even if we feel alone.

We can begin again.

The Rights of the Child

The rights of the child
The unspoken truths
The words that are said
That are all in her head

But why am I different
She hears herself cry
But at six years of age
She can’t understand why

Why her eyes aren’t blue
Like her mum or her dad’s
Why their hands are so light
And hers darker than night

She holds on tight
So she doesn’t get fright
Of the ‘white’ she has in her mind’s eye
The reflection she fights

Oh how she wishes
That she was the same
And the phrase, “You’re so Lucky”
Was only a game

The rights of the child
So lost in herself
She looks to her mum’s smile
And continues to dial

Into the fight
The fight to be seen
To be heard,
To delight into the night

Instead of the
Ok, YES!
It’s a oh, NO!
She was given up
And not worth the fight

For I was too dark
To be able to stay
In my mum’s arms
And was given away

Adoption you see
Is so very cruel
It constantly haunts you
And doesn’t play by the rule

The child who looks
To her mum’s lovely smile
And then to her dad’s Jewish nose
Then feels hers and it’s all stumped and closed

But why she asked
Why do I not match?
Not even close
Not in fingers or toes

Yet the authories chose
My destiny my path
My life
And all of my heart

At age six that day I asked
And the answers
Made my heart go all dark
And cold with sadness

The answers gave me news
That I wasn’t enough to stay
But lucky enough to
Be given away

My coffee coloured skin
Simply didn’t fit in

Yet everyday I will smile
behind gritted teeth
Smile at a world
that is simply a trial
Of loss of hope, rejection and denial

Denial of existence of my worth
And persistence

I will continue to search
For a reason
Not to give in
And choose to love, laugh and keep on breathin

My beautiful son
All blonde and blue eyed
Asked me my question
Mummy why are you different

And I had to listen
To my heart break in time
As my story unfolds
And I try to explain

Why my parents are white
Again and again
And the two mums I now have
Instead of just one
I have two granny’s from your two mums?

Oh fuck the confusion
For when you are six
Everything is so real
To the rights of the child
It’s such a big deal

And now I stand
at 43
Still disillusioned
At my family tree

Where do I put it
What do I do
With the knowledge
I just wouldn’t do

So I say
Down with adoption
And up with support
The rights of the child
Please don’t abort

Your ideas that a mother
Can be supported
To stand tall with her child
So they are transported

Away from a life that is full
Of confusion and pain
A life of ‘could have been’ shadows
And constant rain

I wish I couldn’t see the difference between
My mother and my father
And why oh why
I simply didn’t fit in

The rights of the child
I will never deny
The need to be heard
Seen and observed

In your quest for information
If I could now see
That young six year old
Hold her tight so she sees

She is loved as she is
Despite being lost
She is loved as she is
And her heart may defrost

From the pain that she’s had
For the walk to come
To find her place
Where her song can be sung

For those that now know me
Stay close to my heart
I know I’m fiesty flamboyant
And private and harsh

With my tongue
That can rip you apart
With my anger and pain
Please do not dart

From the rights of the child
I will never deny
The truth above all
Will surface and cry

The rights of the child
And to all of your hearts
I love you all dearly
But it’s me where I must start

Written by CVerite on 12 July 2018
a transracial UK based adoptee

Kära främling

A letter I wrote to my adoptive father

The last time I called home, my adoptive father asked me to come and visit. I spoke to my biological sister who was raised with me and she told me the last time she was home, our adoptive father apologized to her. I’m guessing he will do the same when I go home. Unlike my sister, I cannot accept his hollow apologies and allow him to live his life as though nothing has happened. I want to address the major wrongs he has done to me, things I always wanted to raise but never had the courage to, until now.

Kära främling

You may be hurt or upset by the fact I have addressed you as “stranger”. It’s not done intentionally to evoke anger, resentment or animosity. However, I use this term on purpose. To me, you are a stranger. We have had minimal contact throughout the 30 years I have been on my own. I refuse to call you father because I am a father and I know the joys and pains of being a father. You are not deserving of that title. You have done nothing to build this relationship and I do not know anything about your life. As a father, I have placed the needs of my children first, I have given them every opportunity to grow and flourish, and I have loved them unconditionally. I am their father and everyone who knows my children, knows me too.

Your request for atonement?
I’m assuming you will ask for forgiveness. I know you want atonement in exchange for a simple, “I’m sorry”. How can one single phrase ever be reparation for the wrongs you committed, over many years? I cannot give this to you. There is a saying that one can forgive but never forget. This is how I feel. When I write about you and what you have done – this is not lashing out, this is not done to discredit you, this is not done to make you embarrassed … it is simply my own therapy on how to live through the trauma and pain you instilled on me as a vulnerable child.  This is recalling only a fraction of the things you did to me and my sister.

You are toxic and here are the reasons why I know you are toxic:

  1. You failed to provide me with affirmation and security
    In your mind what you did was tough love. I’ve lived my entire life thinking I was a failure, not worthy. This perceived failure and rejection stems from your toxic refusal to provide me with the right amount of security and affirmation during my formative years. I have beaten myself up enough and I no longer need affirmation from you.  I know I am a good human being.  I know I am smart enough. The long list of accomplishments throughout my life give me this affirmation – not you.
  2. You were overly critical
    You disapproved of everything I did. I didn’t do it right, fast enough, or I did it incorrectly. You criticized everything. You believed I needed to learn to do things properly but this caused me to be a harsh inner critic – to the point that it became crippling. It took me a long time to stop being overly critical of myself.  Do you remember the time you pushed my face into a pile of mashed potatoes because I was unable to say the word gravy? Why was it hard for you to understand that learning a new language as a four and a half year old boy was difficult? It was more frustrating for me than it was for you.
  3. You constantly made fun of me
    You called me “stupid” and “wimpy” all the time. You constantly made jokes about me and stated that my actions would lead me to a life of crime. I don’t know why any parent would say such damaging things. It was never funny to me. Your words were hurtful.
  4. You constantly justified your actions and tried to make out that I was the problem
    You twisted normal behavior to be wrong, to suit your thoughts and beliefs. I remember all the times you made me read biblical scriptures and gave me lectures on why my actions were wrong. I was a damn good kid and I had no mean or evil bone in my body.  Yet in your eyes, having a snack was stealing. Watching TV was evil. Listening to music was evil. How did you have such twisted logic for two small children entrusted to your care? You also thought it was normal for other children to do the same things that you denied us.
  5. You never allowed me to express emotions
    If I expressed a different opinion, you called it “sassing back” and often metred out some form of punishment. You never considered my feelings or the way I perceived the world or situation. Even more hurtful were the slaps I had to endure from your wife each time she perceived me to be talking back. I had to suppress the things I wanted to share with you as my parent.  The bullying I endured all through high school and the racism I felt from the community I lived in. I suppressed these things because you didn’t want to deal with these issues. When racism occurred, your advice was to, “ignore it!”
  6. You used guilt to manipulate
     I remember the letter you shared with me that was written by Philip. It stated I was an unruly child because I did not sit still and listen to his instructions. It’s amazing to me that you preferred to take instructions from a man who never had children of his own. You used that letter to justify what you did and you used manipulation like that letter to make me feel ashamed, guilty, and worthless. You used words and your religion to make me feel guilty for being a kid.
  7. You placed your needs and desires before my own
    Your priorities were always about the businesses you ran. I wanted to do sports –  but I was not allowed to participate. Boy scouts and numerous other things that I wanted to participate in, were always shelved. I was seen only as slave labor and never allowed to pursue things I was interested in.
  8. You never established healthy boundaries
    I did not have any safe spaces to be my own person. My room was open to inspection at any given time. The “traps” that were laid to catch me doing something “wrong” that any other parent would deem as normal was your way of proving I was a bad child. The tactics used were the same tactics used by the Nazi’s to entrap and capture the Jews during World War II. You felt that every aspect of my life was open to ridicule and I had no safe place to flourish. I was always in fear as a child. I lived in fear of reprisal and never had any privacy. No healthy boundaries were ever set.
  9. You made us responsible for your own happiness
    Your wife forced me to clean the bathrooms. I was forced to clean your filth. I was asked to massage your wife’s feet, back and shoulders at her beck and call. I was told that my actions were the reasons why you were unhappy and miserable -because I could nothing right. As a child, it was never my responsibility to make you or your wife happy.
  10. You were a control freak
    I was punished for playing with other children at the gym while you played basketball. I was yelled at. I was told to sit still and watch the game. I wasn’t allowed to have an opinion. I was told, “Children were meant to be seen and not heard”. When I wanted a soda, you forced me to drink milk with every meal. Most Asians are lactose intolerant but you didn’t care. You forced us to drink gallons and gallons of milk.
  11. You robbed me of my childhood
    When was I ever allowed to have friends over? When was I allowed to stay at my friends’ homes? Where were the trips to Disneyland or places where children want to go?  You told me to grow up and be an adult when I was only a child. On my 12th birthday, you told me I was “no longer able to eat off the children’s menu” and needed to start acting like an adult. My entire childhood was filled with memories of getting up early in the morning and going to work.  Baling hay in the hot summer sun until exhaustion. Being covered head-to-toe in filthy dust and allowed to shower only once a week. Where was the carefree, worry free childhood? I had none.
  12. You were never my advocate
    An advocate is a person who publicly supports or recommends a particular cause or policy. What I remember is that you threatened me. You stated you had good standing in the community and nobody would believe a person like me. You said these things when I threatened to expose the cruel things you did to me and my sister. When I wanted to go to college, you mater of factly told me to find a way to do it on my own. You had no vested interest in making me a better person. You were never present at any mile marker of any achievements or important dates of my adult life. You were never present at my wedding, the birth of my children, college graduation, sworn in as an officer, and the dozens of other important milestones of my life. I can count on one hand the number of times you called me in the thirty years of adulthood.  The real reason why you never called is you did not care.
  13. You lacked empathy
    The word empathy means that a person has the ability to understand and share the feelings of another. When the bully wrote on my face with a permanent marker – what did you do to ensure I wasn’t bullied? I was bullied because of my race. I was bullied all through high school. I sat alone at every meal at the lunch room. You always assumed I was the culprit, that somehow, I committed some offense. In fact, you told others you suspected I was on drugs. With what money did I buy drugs? How could I have obtained drugs when I was isolated in school? You were always quick to assume the worst in me. If you hated us so much, why did you adopt?

Acknowledge your behaviour was emotionally abusive
Can you acknowledge that you yelled, name called and belittled me? This by itself is not emotional abuse. Your attempt to control me by using emotion is however the definition of emotional abuse. Your belief that you knew best, your threats, name calling, shaming and criticism was damaging to my spirit. You also spoke to other family members and neighbors about me in a negative manner to destroy my credibility and isolate me from being able to tell my side of the story. This is abuse. You allowed your wife to constantly play mind games with me and my sister: checking to see if we watched tv, adjusting the container of ice-cream to see if we ate any of it, the lack of privacy, the pitting the siblings against one another.  This was emotional abuse.

Acknowledge your actions were physically abusive
You purposefully made me fearful of you. I felt I had to avoid certain topics and was walking on eggshells because of your anger. You believed you had the authority to be abusive. Despite your Christ-like example of gentleness, kindness and understanding – you chose to hold onto the mentality of “spare the rod and spoil the child”. In fact, you referenced this numerous time when you exercised corporal punishment on me and my sister. You often denied us food when we were “bad”. You used physical restraint techniques of pinching and grabbing us by the neck. Your overpowering frame that is 6 feet four inches was intimidating alone but you felt the need to use physical force on us by whipping, spanking using belts and razor straps. You blamed us for your violent behavior. We were punished for every minor infraction. I suffered hypo-glycemia and one of the symptoms is extreme hunger. I didn’t understand what my body was going through but when I had a cookie to increase my blood sugar, you considered this to be stealing. Later, I would eat entire packets of cookies and throw the wrapper into the woods to avoid the ridicule of being a “thief and sinner” in your eyes.  Lastly, the beating you gave me in front of the milk tester was not justified.  It was embarrassing. Your violence was NEVER justified.

Acknowledge you neglected me (us)
I know you believe that you cared for me to the best of your ability – but to me, this is the furthest from the truth. You refused medical care for me and made me suffer on numerous occasions. When I had appendicitis, you made up some story that I had a stomach ache from eating apples off the tree. Eating fruit off a tree typically does not induce vomiting and severe abdominal pain, where a person needs to be hunched over when attempting to walk. Your disregarded my health and it resulted in me staying in the hospital for a week on IV antibiotics. When I got ring worm, you allowed the fungus to spread across my arms, torso and buttocks. It was “treated” by my grandmother by smearing a strong cleaner on my skin. The ringworm and cleaner left scars on my skin. Furthermore, you refused to provide me with sufficient clothing and gloves. I had to work outside in sub-zero Minnesota temperatures without gloves and proper outwear. I have deep fissures in my hands and the tight shoes caused me foot pain. When a boy’s foot protrudes from holes worn at the toes it is not caused by neglect from the child! It happens because the child has outgrown their shoes and it is neglect on your part as parent. A child should not have to beg to be given gloves to work outside nor put up with wounds in their skin because no gloves were provided.

Acknowledge you refused a child from personal growth and self-fulfillment
You never gave me encouragement nor surrounded me with positivity. You did not allow me to pursue things I was interested in. The music I listened to was “devils music.” I don’t think many people would call Madonna, The Commodores and Tiffany as “devil’s music.” Gewirth notes that “to seek for a good human life is to seek for self-fulfillment”. Can you honestly say you provided a good life or childhood for me and my biological sister?

Acknowledge there was no reciprocation
When your parents needed things, I sent money home. I did the same for your wife’s mother. Have you ever asked me if I needed anything? When you were hospitalized, I flew home to make sure you were okay. You never flew home to be with me when I underwent numerous surgeries in my life. When important people in your life passed, I made every effort to fly home to show support. You missed all the important mile markers of my life. Most of all you never reciprocated the love that I gave you as a child.  I have worked hard to share my life. I have traveled to see you. I have sent numerous letters and phone calls. You have not. We have grown apart over the years and I do not know you at all. We have become total strangers.

Acknowledge you lied
Abusive people will stop at nothing to make sure they are seen as the “nice” person. They do this so they don’t have to admit the bad things they have done. As a child, I saw your willingness to help others. You were willing to give the shirt off your back to assist anyone. It’s amazed me that you did not hold the same regard for me. Now I understand why. You lied about me. You painted me to be a monster. You gave half truths about what you did and reasons for why you did these horrible things. You talked yourself into believing your own lies. Why would a person say such things if they love someone? It’s because you had to hide this lie from others.

Acknowledge your religious fervor was destructive
“Most of our world’s major religions each assume that it is their faith alone that is the “absolute truth” and refuse to concede that those traditions may be mistaken. Instead, they discover ways to force conflicting information to adapt to their own doctrine.”
You, like many other religious adherents, have no problems in understating the irrationality of other religions yet you were unable to apply the same logic when came to your own faith. Your revered bible has hundreds of verses where it literally instructs people to kill disobedient children, kill disobedient women, commit genocide, subdue and silence women and to enslave people. If one committed any of the offenses today, they would be committed, incarcerated and deemed evil. You used these texts to intrude, torture, and hurt me and my sister. You used your scriptures to subjugate, to justify inequality, and to control. I cannot believe in a faith that is so evil. You lived this evil instead of the love and acceptance that was also mentioned in the same scriptures.

It’s too late to apologize
You had a lifetime to offer an olive branch to me. You had your chance to visit me and my family. You had your chance to call me. You made NO effort to be a part of my life. It’s been said that “our life is the sum total of all the decisions we make every day, and those decisions are determined by our priorities”. With that said, I was never a priority to you. As a child I was hurt by your lack of empathy. As a young adult I was hurt by your lack of interaction. I didn’t expect you to make me your priority, I was hoping, however, that you’d be there when I needed you. This has not been the case and I have learned that I have no need for a person who has been a stranger to me all my life.  The best we can be is … apart.

About Jayme

At the “Core” of Adoption

Sometimes I imagine the different members of the adoption triad like a raging fierce three way battle with heroes and villains on either side — each vying for supremacy, and ultimately believing their view is right. Orphanages, adoption agencies and lawyers, and the evangelical right are the weapons suppliers and war profiteers. Too far? A joke? I kid, I kid .. mostly … well ya know, sidepoint. And granted, there are voices who attempt to bridge the gap and learn about the viewpoints of the others and these should be acknowledged, but these attempts are more often than not drowned out by the constant battles that loom large.

Battle lines drawn over issues like anti or pro adoption, abortion, ethical adoption (illegal trafficking etc), rehoming, open birth records, adoptee rights (citizenship, permanency in identity/name), non-policy issues like good adoptive parenting (racially sensitive and trauma informed), birth parent searching, what’s “best” for the child, orphan crisis or lack thereof, baby marketplace or not, saviorism, and I’m sure a host of other issues I forgot to mention.

If this was a real life telenovela, there is no doubt it could run on for twenty solid seasons without running out of episodes for a lack of content or drama. Labels and name calling take center stage: “You’re too sensitive!”, “You’re just an angry adoptee,” “You should be grateful!”, “You’re a saint for being selfless and giving up your baby to a deserving family!”, “Your birthmom was probably on drugs!”, “You’re only a baby factory and nothing more!”, “You’re not my real mom!”, “Adoptive Parents are so ignorant, arrogant and condescending!”, “Only my adoptive mom is my real mom, my birth mother isn’t!”

This is Us, an American TV family drama is cashing in big time on this. Adoption agencies can’t be the only ones to profit, haha! A lot of times I find it easy to get lost amidst all the intense emotions, name calling, back and forth boxing match, Facebook blocking and long message screenshotting about, “Can you believe this (insert name) said this (insert screenshot).” Expressing emotions, of course is extremely necessary and valid for all sides, so this is not a knock on seeking validation from others and having them sympathize, but rather to argue that this can become wearing over some time and depressing to think this is all it’s ever going to be. And of course there is some debate over to how to express emotions healthily or otherwise and to whom, but that is a sidepoint. How people find any sanity in adoption is a wonder to me. But come to think of it, no one ever said they did. How morbid!

Let’s be honest for a second. Adoption is deeply personal. Let me repeat that.

Adoption is deeply personal!

It produces a lot of feelings if you choose to allow it. If you disagree with this, then you’re either a robot, or some alien life form without emotional IQ. Not to be too dramatic because people can of course disagree. Some people will argue they never think about adoption or that it has zero effect on their lives, but that doesn’t mean it’s not personal even if everything was great. Adoption preys on our deepest fears and perhaps greatest joys in life. Fears of losing a child, fears of being abandoned and rejected, fears of not being enough, fears of the same thing happening again, fear of not being able to move on, fear of not loving a child that wasn’t originally yours, fear of being a good mother or father, the joy of gaining a child, the joy of having a family, the joy of reunification, and the joy of discovering yourself. Adoption produces intense emotions positive and/or negative, and whether one numbs their emotions or not, I have no control over this. There is plenty of anxiety, anger, loss, fear, tension, and confusion to go around.

I am not perfect at this and I struggle to connect to my adoptive parents because of how differently we see things, but largely because we both have deep feelings attached that make things all too personal. I understand why my parents say and do what they do, and it doesn’t necessarily make it hurt less, but gives me more empathy for them.

Acknowledging that adoption is personal for all of us doesn’t lead to a kumbaya moment, and I am not asking for it, but it has to be the start. I understand why some adoptees say very hurtful things to their adoptive parents and I understand why adoptive parents may not say such kinds things about adoptees. Does this make it right? No. But if we all acknowledge adoption is personal and tried to dig deep within ourselves to see why and how comments become triggering for us, and why they might trigger others, then maybe, we could get somewhere. If we cut through the crap and said, “I’m afraid your birth mom is going to take you back because I might lose someone I love very much”, in my opinion this is much better than,  “I was doing what’s best for you” (not seeing your birth mom), or, “I am really angry at my birth mom because she left me!” instead of saying, “She’s not real!” Maybe we might forge bridges instead of digging trenches and maybe we might even feel better when we express what we are really feeling.

So much of what we really think goes unsaid and needs to be said in the right context and hopefully in constructive way that is more about how we are feeling than what someone said or didn’t say. Otherwise our battlefields are landmines with children playing soldier at every step, rather than adults talking about issues in constructive ways. Change will never be effected with intense emotions and trigger points, otherwise we simply further entrench ourselves on our side of the battle. I’m not promising we will all agree on issues but rather, we can work towards healthier conversations that could potentially accomplish more than adding layers of hurt. It takes nothing to call out someone else, but it takes true courage to do the hard work within ourselves!

by  Joey Beyer

Svenska
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