Expectations of Gratitude in Adoption

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I was recently contacted by a fellow adoptee who is seeking views and experiences of adoptees where gratitude is expected and how we feel about this. I immediately responded because gratitude in adoption is such an unspoken about subject, particularly from the adoptee perspective. For me, it was definitely a burden I felt whilst growing up and carry still to this day. Interesting that little has been written on this topic specific to intercountry adoption because our adoptions are so rife with connotations of being saved from poverty, war, slums and the streets. These connotations also come with equal expectation that we flourish in our Western white adoptive countries and families for which we should be grateful for.

It is assumed, somehow, magically, our losses in relinquishment should be negated by the gains in adoption.

I can understand how the majority of people who think of the word adoption would not necessarily equate that with living an experience of being expected to be grateful. But, from my own life experience, the word “grateful”, “thankful”, “be happy”, or “lucky” pops up in adoption conversation regularly. People who are not impacted by adoption expect us to be grateful for the material wealth and education we gain in life having been adopted. As an adoptee, not only have I experienced people’s assumptions about how lucky I am in their eyes to be adopted, I also experienced the expectation of gratitude said out loud by my adoptive parent during my childhood. It was said to me once or twice, but the way in which I was treated most of my childhood until I became independent and moved interstate, told me without words that it was the foundation of my adoption.

In hindsight, knowing now that my adoptive father was not comfortable to adopt a child not his own, from a foreign country, he went against his instincts and clearly gave way to his wife’s desire to save a child from the Vietnam war. What they saved me from, I’ll never know unless I find my first family. Whether I was indeed saved, who knows. Am I grateful? If I answered no, people naturally would recoil and look at me horrified, stunned. How dare I be ungrateful for my life in a wealthy country with material comforts, an education, and the life everyone in poverty aspires to.

But, of course I am grateful in many ways! Without choosing to be grateful, my emotional well being would be one of dissatisfaction, depression, unease and wishing to be dead.

I have been there! For plenty of years! And I had to battle to find a way through.

I choose actively to be consciously grateful, to focus and spend my life turning it into something positive. And it’s much nicer to be in a stage of life where I can choose to be grateful in general, as opposed to being forced to feel indebted for being saved via adoption.

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I’m a female adoptee born in Vietnam, flown out as an infant to Australia in the early 1970s. I’ve told my personal story what feels like a thousand times, but yet no one has asked before what it was like to carry that expectation to be grateful for my existence in my adoptive family.

My adoption was not legally facilitated until I was 17 years old and it is still a mystery as to whether my legal adoption paperwork exists somewhere in Vietnam. I hadn’t really come to acknowledge or understand the true meaning of this until the past 6 months. It is enlightening to observe how my story of adoption and relinquishment has changed over time as I’ve become more fully aware of the truths, perceived and real. I am constantly having to rethink what was told to me growing up and comparing that to the truths I find today, and who I have become.

Not having an identity on paper for 17 years, of course I feel the expectation to be grateful to my adoptive country Australia in giving me a birth certificate and hence allowed an identity. But at what cost? The expectation to be grateful these days is overshadowed by questions I have on why it doesn’t seem to have been questioned whether I had an identity in Vietnam or how to preserve or respect it legally.

The words “gratitude” or “grateful” are like an alarm bell ringing inside me. It grates on my nerves and I feel myself inwardly flinching. For me it comes with so many negative memories. Even googling to find an image for this blog and seeing the visuals, created feelings of unease and discomfort in my body. If you can relate to me as an adoptee, saying, seeing or reading the word “gratitude” in relation to adoption is a trigger that I have to deal with all the time.

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My adoptive childhood was spent working like a boy slave on the family’s dairy farm. Being thrown the “you owe this family because we adopted you” line because I was standing up for myself, was one of the toughest moments I remember. It was one of those rare times where I was trying to be stand up for myself about not wanting to be forced to help with milking the cows. The other children were allowed to peacefully sleep in every morning. My childhood sense of justice was strong. Why was I constantly singled out to be made to work around the farm with my adoptive father who inappropriately touched me whilst in the dairy or in my bedroom? He had no sense of respect for my privacy as my body developed in early teenage years. I recall a few times he woke me with his cold hands running over my bare chest and stomach, then dragging me out of my bed by my legs, nightie flinging up over my head exposing my naked body, laughing at how “funny” it was to be dragged along the frost covered grass on a cold Victorian morning. This would happen just on daylight before the sun even rose. Nobody else was awake. My hatred rose further when I once removed the outside key from the lock of my door but was authoritatively told how dare I try and lock him out. Everything about my life was dependent on him and I was given no sense of privacy, respect or control.

I grew to resent my adoptive father during my childhood but yet I pined for a tiny bit of love to be shown. I wasn’t grateful for this existence and I certainly hated that my lack of blood relative status meant it seemed to give him licence to work me like a slave and touch me in the way no father should. His other bio children were left to do what they wanted. They were not forced to work like me on hard physical tasks; chopping barrow loads of hardwood, milking cows day and night, cooking and cleaning in the kitchen, being forced to run out in the dark and shut the chooks in every night (I was terrified of the dark), etc. It felt like slave labour with no empathy for my feelings at all. It certainly wasn’t a childhood filled with love, safety or understanding. Nor was there any room for any compassion or support about what I might be feeling from being separated from my biological family and wondering why.

The expectation, verbalised out loud, to be grateful for being adopted was a heavy heavy burden to carry .. and still is. I was forced to justify why I needed hair conditioner and shampoo (I had waist long hair) and he would only provide soap as that was good enough for everyone else who had short or little hair. I was made to feel that buying a toothbrush was too much and how dare I need or ask for anything. I was made to feel and was told many times that I was a “fussy”, “difficult” child, always “telling lies” and “stealing“.

To this day, the “you should be grateful because we adopted you” mantra is what has stopped me from speaking openly about the emotional and sexual abuse I endured from early childhood to teen years. No adoptee should ever have to be thrown that line of feeling we owe a debt of gratitude to our adoptive families. Even when abuse does not occur. Whether spoken or not, we adoptees do NOT owe our families. They adopt for their own self fulfilling reasons. I had NO choice but to survive the adoptive family I was placed in.

You can probably feel the anger I still carry at the injustice of being made to feel that I owed my adoptive family for being rescued/saved. It brings lifelong consequences of being fiercely independent and not easily allowing anyone to help me. I suspect other adoptees can relate. For me, being helped, being given something I don’t ask for, usually comes with a fear of the unspoken price at which that help is provided. Hence, I would rather do it myself. The expectation of gratitude for being saved by adoptive family and society at large, is a heavy burden.

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This burden of expected gratitude in being adopted is enhanced by the religious elements intertwined in much of modern adoption advocacy.

Fervent religious organisations and individuals who willingly promote and facilitate the adoption and rescuing of children add another layer of expected gratitude onto us. People who believe adoption is an ordained action by God, that they are following his command to help an orphan, makes it difficult for adoptees to share about the struggles of being adopted and relinquished.

I rarely hear of any adoptee who will willingly stand up in a church or religious institute and share their adoption experience with all its complexities. For me, this would be the worst audience ever! I can’t imagine receiving validation or empathy. Instead, I suspect I would receive unsolicited advice to be grateful and thankful to God that I am in a better place and that all is going well now. The all familiar saying of, “Count your Blessings!” by religious people in response to adversity is one I find hard to stomach.

Google for yourself the word gratitude and you will see the many religious and spiritual images linked to this concept. Our struggles as adoptees go unvalidated and unsupported because of blind prejudice that somehow adoption is meant to be, ordained by God. How can anyone question the unspoken assumption that we should be grateful for our adoption, when this is the long held religious and spiritual belief?

Thankfully, my adoptive family and others have apologised in recent years for the wrong doings in my childhood and I have chosen to be grateful for this and to move on. It’s interesting how with apologies I now feel more at liberty to be open about my life. It’s as if a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I no longer carry the burden of responsibility for family secrets and shame, trying to protect them from the consequences. For many years now, I have been true to myself and will not allow the expectation of gratitude to overwhelm my truths.

I have focused my energies on rebuilding the relationships with adoptive family as they are my one and only family I know, to raise me and give me an identity. For this I am truly grateful – but that’s not to say the journey hasn’t been a struggle and at many costs.

Gratitude in adoption should never be an expectation. It should be a choice we are free to make about life in general – after we come to terms with, and are supported in, understanding our losses and gains from relinquishment and adoption.

Intrusive Interactions

By Sunny Reed

Being a South Korean adoptee in an all-white New Jersey town was tough. Racism was sandwiched between episodic public speculations like “Where are you from? No, where are you really from?” and “What is your REAL name?”

Sara Docan-Morgan, professor at the University of Wisconsin, calls those awkward questions “intrusive interactions.” Today’s article scrutinizes these behaviors and their impact on an adoptee’s racial identity and sense of belonging.

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Korean Adoptees’ Retrospective Reports of Intrusive Interactions: Exploring Boundary Management in Adoptive Families
Sara Docan-Morgan

Article Summary

Visible racial differences between intercountry adoptees and their families sometimes invite unwanted “intrusive interactions,” those comments and inquiries that are uncomfortably invasive and question an adoptee’s race and personal history. Docan-Morgan identifies five categories of interactions and three response methods. The article suggests that intrusive interaction studies are necessary for rewriting the definition of family.

Key Points

  • Intrusive interactions question the legitimacy of an adoptee’s family role
  • Five types of intrusive interactions exist: relational comments/questions, compliments, stares, mistaken identities, and adoptee-only interactions
  • Labeling and explaining, defending, and joking were typical responses
  • Preparing prospective adoptive parents for these interactions can educate parents  pre-adoption

Discussion

Intercountry adoptees want to belong, but continuously addressing their race and family relationships destabilizes their sense of security. Five types of intrusive interactions were identified, with the most common being relational comments/questions. These are the ones best known as, “Is that your daughter?”, “Is that your real brother?” and “How much did she cost?” Since so many of us have encountered these questions, it’s reassuring to see that implications of such prying queries are being taken seriously.

I often bristled at these questions, only to be accused of being overly sensitive to people’s natural curiosity. However, if those same questions were posed to a biological or in-race child (“How was your pregnancy?” or “Did you have a water birth or hospital room?”) it would likely be viewed as inappropriate and wildly out of line. I wonder how appropriate it would be to ask about the couple’s fertility and its influence on adoption;  I’d cynically speculate some people are using the adoptee to get to this highly personal information.

For some reason though, an adoptee’s visible difference from their families makes them an acceptable target for misplaced curiosity. Compliments, a second type of intrusive interaction, objectify the adoptee and for Asian adoptees, keep them stuck as perpetual foreigners in the United States.

Stares were the only non-verbal intrusive interactions and more difficult for adoptees to address, since there was no appropriate way to confront the behavior. Ironically, adoptees were the ones peppered with inappropriate questions their entire lives, yet were too polite to speak up when it would have been warranted.

The most uncomfortable interactions were mistaken identity/relationships. Adoptees reported being mistaken for exchange students, hired help, or romantic partners (one adoptee was even greeted with a hearty, “Welcome to America!” while at a party). Not only were these interactions awkward for all involved, they “highlighted the discourse of the dependent nature of adoptive family members’ bonds. Rather than being unquestionable, these bonds were the source of others’ confusion and had to be reaffirmed through language.”

While some adoptees didn’t find the questioning to be intrusive (only annoying or merely curious), engaging in “boundary management” with strangers and even other adoptees caused understandable discomfort. Regardless of an adoptee’s reaction to the intrusive behaviors, it was common for adoptees to experience frustration at having to explain away their existence with the only family they’d ever known.

According to this limited study, adoptees interpreted these interactions differently depending on how the parents responded. If a parent responded in a joking way, it helped instill a sense of pride and belonging in the adoptee. Most adoptees reported some level of satisfaction with their family’s replies, but expressed an overall negative perception of themselves after each interaction.

Since this study relied on an adoptee’s memories, it is possible some of the memories become distorted or forgotten; however, I’d argue that these questions remain vividly woven into an adoptee’s history. Note the study focused only on Korean adoptees, whose political and historical presence in the United States differs from other intercountry and transracial adoptees. Despite these limitations, this is significant research since it provides prospective adoptive parents with a chance to preemptively address potential challenges.

Detailed demographics of the adoptees’ communities would be interesting for future studies. In a previous article, I discussed my own unfortunate experiences and several commenters mentioned that their communities were more diverse than mine, so future studies should take that into consideration. Still, this doesn’t discredit the histories of these adoptees, as their stories will help shape the future of adoption.

Your turn! Have you experienced intrusive interactions? How did you and/or your family respond? I can’t wait to hear your thoughts!