Biology doesn’t matter?

#4 ICAV Blogger Collaborative Series for Adoption Awareness Month 2019

An adoption myth

Do you have any family members who you would never have anything to do with if they weren’t family?

If you discovered your baby had been switched at birth and you had been raising another person’s baby, would you look for your child?

If you discovered you’d been switched at birth and had been raised by another family, would you want to meet your biological family?

Do you love to hear stories of family members who share interests or talents with you?
If there is a hereditary medical health problem in your family, do you feel you have a right know about it?

If a mother loses her baby before she gives birth and never meets the baby, will she grieve it?

Is a relationship with step family different to a relationship with biological family?

If you want to have a family, is your first choice to have a biological child?

If your answer is YES to one or more of these questions, then never tell an adoptee that biology doesn’t matter.

by Juliette Lam

My father was admitted to hospital yesterday as he had tightness in his chest and pain across his shoulder radiating down to his shoulder blade. The first question he was asked was, “Is there any family history of heart disease?” He was able to say, “My father had a heart attack, my brother had a stent put in and my sister also has heart disease, so yes there is.” This was then able to inform the medial team assessing him that there was a high possibility that this was heart related and so they could act accordingly.

When I was diagnosed with hip dysplasia back in 2010 the first thing I got asked was, “Is there any family history?” This of course was not the first time I’ve been asked that question. I’ve been asked that question my whole my life when I’ve presented for menial whatever’s. I’m adopted … oh right … sometimes awkward silence …. and therefore I don’t know.

The first thing we did of course when we found out that I had hip dysplasia, was get my daughter tested and bingo – guess what ?! It’s genetic!! She had it too. I was pleased but also sad that I had passed this on to her. I was pleased that for the first time in my life my newly discovered diagnosis meant I could help her catch hers early enough for her to still need surgery but not as invasive as what I needed to have. And there is the case in point, from a medical perspective on why biology matters.

by Kate Coghlan

Biology doesn’t matter. But they say blood is thicker than water.
Biology doesn’t matter. But more than 26 million people have taken a genetic ancestry test.
Biology doesn’t matter. But you have your grandma’s eyes.
Biology doesn’t matter. But I’m so happy you got your dad’s musical talent.
Biology doesn’t matter. But most states in the USA seal original birth certificates. Permanently.
Biology doesn’t matter. But DNA carries the genetic instructions for development, functioning, growth, and reproduction of all known organisms.
Biology doesn’t matter. But 406 episodes of Forensic Files kept TV audiences enthralled using biological evidence to catch violent criminals.
Biology doesn’t matter. But ‘Finding Your Roots’ is a primetime hit for public television in the USA.
Biology doesn’t matter. But an estimated 8 million children have been born worldwide using IVF and other reproductive technologies.
Biology doesn’t matter. But all I ever wanted was to know who my mother is.
Biology doesn’t matter. But mothers and the children they lost to adoption are desperately searching for each other, all over the world.
Biology doesn’t matter. But it does. It really, really does.

by Abby Hilty

Một giọt máu đào hơn ao nước lã / A drop of blood is worth more than all the water in a pond.

In the house I grew up in, on the second floor, there was a formal dining room and then a hallway leading to a large bathroom, a sewing room, the master bedroom and lastly my bedroom. On the wall opposite the dining room there was plenty of space for my adoptive parents to hang framed black-and-white photos of distant relatives who stemmed from both their family trees. In order to go down the hallway to my bedroom, each day and night, I had to pass by this orderly array of photos. Sometimes I passed right by them, sometimes, usually when I knew I was alone, I would look deep into the subjects’ eyes, so much so, that I’d start to believe they were staring back at me.

It was at these times, and in so many other ways, that I wanted someone with facial features, hair colour and physical stature similar to mine to peer back at me and explain the strange dissonance in which I increasingly felt trapped. But no help was coming because I was beyond help in some odd excommunicative aspect. No matter how much I tried dampening my distinguishable appearance, it carried me right back to my peers who generally judged me to not be wholly compatible with their cliques. As far as my adoptive parents and immediate family were concerned, I was theirs, for all intents and purposes, but when it came to innocuous remarks about familial traits or good-natured physical comparisons between cousins I was set aside and ignored. It was as if they were letting me know that this was “family business that doesn’t concern you.”

When you don’t resemble the people you’re forced to swim with in the big pond of The World, then you lower your body temp and try to cope and always look for an escape.

by Kev Minh

This is the last in the ICAV Blogger Collaborative Series for Adoption Awareness Month 2019.

We hope you enjoyed these and all the posts shared during Adoption Awareness Month.

A massive THANK YOU to all the ICAV members who contributed to elevate our voices this November. They are:

Anonymous
Joy Alessi
Kristen Anderson
J Aucayse
Gabbie Beckley
Cherish Bolton
Kate Coghlan
Jasmin Em
Kelly Foston
Marie Gardom
Mark Hagland
Jonas Haid
Abby Hilty
Tim Kim
Juliette Lam
Jesse Lassandro
Less Lee
Lynelle Long
Sarah Märtensson
Kev Minh
Pika Pika
Harley Place
Hea Ryun Garza
Bianca Salai
Daniel Walsh
Christina Williams
Kim Yang Ai

NAAM 2019 AdopteeVoices #10

At ICAV, we invited members to share during National Adoption Awareness Month what they would like the public to know. Here’s another of what some of our members are happy to share.

I believe that the world needs to know that adoption occurs because society is broken and from this broken world comes the NEED for adoption. If only we could remove the need for adoption, we would fix a lot of the world’s problems. 

The only way to stop adoption is to remove the NEED for adoption and address the causes such as help single mothers financially to be able to raise their child.

Some mothers are not well enough to raise their child and there are many more causes that create a need for adoption.

by Tim Kim

Families who come together through adoption deserve the same rights, privileges, and security as biological families including citizenship and nationality, which are the fundamental human rights of all individuals.

Citizenship is critical to economic stability, family preservation, and social legitimacy.

Legislation is needed to ensure that citizenship rights are equally applied to all children of American citizens.

Adoptees who join American families as children, grow up with American values and contribute to our nation’s communities in every way.

Equal citizenship rights will also strengthen our national values by empowering adoptees to fully participate in American democracy.

by Joy Alessi, Co-director of Adoptee Rights Campaign

There Is Only Me

“All those moments will be lost in time like tears in the rain.”

I’m reminded of that line from the movie Blade Runner that was set in November 2019 and spoken by Roy Batty, the replicant who was fighting against time and against his creator who doomed him by installing a kill switch. Those words weigh heavy on this adoptee because I have chosen to stop my clock by not looking into my origins or searching for any blood relatives. Any memory of roots or of faces or events that would connect me to my own origin story I have chosen to forego because no one can claim me. I am no one’s son. My biological existence and furtherance are all now under the aegis of my force of nature. I know my face and other physical features are not reflected in anyone else on this planet, so I am free to take control of my own story, to tell it to myself without deceit, without manipulation. My name is in a passport within another passport, within another. My tree of blood is a stump in the backyard of a tenement where my body was found in Saigon, lost, then found again in a two-level suburban house in northeastern America that couldn’t keep me forever. Because forever is a fallacy to my adopted body. In my own body is where I belong.   

About Kev Minh

NAAM 2019 AdopteeVoices #9

At ICAV, we invited members to share during National Adoption Awareness Month what they would like the public to know. Here’s another of what some of our members are happy to share to the public.

The biggest thing I want people to know this month is that I’m not anti-adoption. If it weren’t for adoption happening to me, I wouldn’t be living the life I am now. I can’t say it’s necessarily a better life, it’s just a different one than the other life I could be living had I not been adopted.

Non-adopted people don’t think of what their ‘other life’ could have been like because for them, their existence wasn’t founded on first family separation and the traumas associated with it — there’s not an ‘other life’ option that enters their minds. For me, it is always there.

So, when I say I’m not anti-adoption, that means that I understand why it exists. As someone who was directly affected by adoption, I know firsthand its impacts and I’m not afraid to speak about them – all of them.

During NAAM especially, I want the world to know that I’m not fighting against adoption, I am simply fighting to be heard and seen. 

by Christina Williams

Everyone has a story: beautiful, terrifying, wonderful, heartbreaking, mysterious, coincidental, whatever.

Everyone deserves to feel a sense of belonging. 

Everyone deserves to discover their own identity. 

Unfortunately for some, the path of discovery leads to denial, rejection, abandonment, half-truths or hidden truths. Scars reveal themselves. Scars some of us didn’t know existed. We’ve been so busy building dreams and chasing sunsets, yet others have lived with a daily pain.

Fitting in, being misunderstood, different ones trying to do their best. 
Or not. 
It’s all part of the territory. 

Has anyone inquired of you lately, ‘How are you going with it all?’ ‘Where do you see yourself in 20 years?’ ‘How will your story end?’

One thing I have learnt though, through the processing of life and daring to ask our big questions, is that everyone of us has the power to decide our own destiny. As the ever-optimist, I’m believing that each of us would finish well.
Selah 🕊

by Jasmin Em

NAAM 2019 AdopteeVoices #8

At ICAV, we invited members to share during National Adoption Awareness Month what they would like the public to know. Here’s another of what some of our members are happy to share to the public.

It is more than being torn from birth family. It is being torn from the every day culture. Spiritual and cultural norms are absent and there is no connection to ancestral knowledge. It is our DNA and it is denied when we cannot connect to our culture. Once adopted, you are labelled , always.

by Kelly Foston

Adoption is often about the parents living out their dreams. Some believe they are making the world a better place. Some believe they are making themselves better. Isn’t the desire to be a parent ultimately a selfish act? But how many non-adopted children are expected to be ‘grateful’ for the rest of their lives?

I think an adopted child has a double edged sword. They walk along that blade for the rest of their lives. On one side of that blade is the privilege of an alternate life path. On the other side is the disadvantage of missing their birth culture. As part of adoption month, I would like this to be acknowledged.

by Kristen Anderson

Digging in the Dirt

#NotMyNAAM

If you want a garden to grow, you need to prepare the soil and tend the earth. Removing weeds is essential prep and maintenance work. Without weeding and fertilising, your flowers and vegetables can’t grow properly.

If you want a wound to heal, you need to clean it our before you stitch it closed or bandage it. If you leave debris inside the wound, it will become painful and infected. And it will need to be re-opened, cleaned, and treated further.

Sometimes, when I tell people I attend a support group for adoptees and first moms, they ask why I would want to be around people who just sit there and talk about their sad stories. Aren’t we all just dwelling and being downers? My answer is a strong No. The times in my life when I felt the lowest were the times when I was completely alone in my trauma, before I found an adoption trauma-competent therapist, before I found a local support group, before the internet and the creation of FB groups, before I became active in the intercountry and transracial adoption community. Having a community around me of people who share the same primal wound and learning and working together to move forward in a healthy way, is very healing, though it can be painful.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, post-adoption services are critical for all adopted people. And I’m talking about the provision of FREE adoption-trauma-based therapies; local, adoptee-run support groups; access to OBCs and DNA tests; travel budget set aside for trips back to the country of origin; language lessons and translation services for intercountry adoptees. Without adequate, available, and competent pre and post adoption services, we are expecting lush gardens to grow on unprepared land. We are expecting wounds to heal without first helping to clean them out, or worse – by not even acknowledging them in the first place.

To all of my fellow adoptees who are out there, getting down and dirty in the trenches, pulling out those weeds and planting new seeds, I dedicate Digging in the Dirt, by Peter Gabriel.

About Abby Hilty

NAAM 2019 AdopteeVoices #7

At ICAV, we invited members to share during National Adoption Awareness Month what they would like the public to know. Here’s another of what some of our members are happy to share to the public.

I am adopted from Spain. Terrible experience. I hope any family adopting in America now receives an independent thorough home study, including military.

As a retired social worker I have approved quite a few adoptions. I am a lion for kids, so I know they were in very bad unrepairable situations and those families were golden.

There is absolutely a time and place for adoption, in my opinion. Also, shame on our country for allowing Mexican children to be stolen!

by Jesse Lassandro

The loneliness that comes from the separation of our culture and family creates a pain so unique that some survive and others get torn apart. Through awareness, education, and understanding, this can change.

In my own experience not knowing my identity was a huge problem that held me back from making healthy decisions when it came to choosing friends and making big life choices. That pain always reminded me, I was never good enough.

It wasn’t until I met my birth family that I felt a connection to something that was my own and I felt something inside me heal.

I’m not opposed to adoption but adopting is a big undertaking that will come with trauma so if you want to be an adoptive parent and reading this, don’t lie to yourself. If you’re not ready then wait. For any adoptee reading this, I feel your pain and please know you’re not alone.

by J Aucayse 

I Don’t See Colour!

#2 ICAV Blogger Collaborative Series for Adoption Awareness Month 2019

A common comment made to intercountry adoptees. Our responses?

When someone says “I don’t see colour,” to me this means they don’t see me. They will argue that they see me as a “person,” just like we are all people. But I counter that view because my personhood, my identity, my humanity, cannot be uncoupled from my brown-ness.

Pretending not to see colour has the effect of negating everyone’s ancestry, personal and familial history, and their lived experiences in the racialised society we all live in – no matter where we live. In intercountry adoption (ICA), this “colourblind” view can be absolutely devastating because ICA is dominated by white people adopting brown and black babies from all over the world. If white adoptive parents refuse to see their child’s skin colour or their own skin colour, how can they fully parent and love their child unconditionally?

For, it would seem, being colourblind is only possible under certain conditions: (a) I don’t have to see your colour; (b) I don’t have to acknowledge my colour; (c) we never have to talk about what your colour or my colour means; (d) we never, ever have to talk about how those colours exist in relation to each other within the larger context of culture and society.

From the perspective of a brown intercountry adoptee like me, I feel a mixture of sadness and anger towards anyone who espouses a colourblind mentality because they essentially negate the history of my brown ancestors.

If you refuse to allow that humanity has attached certain assumed behaviours and levels of privilege and importance to different skin colours, how can we possibly have a conversation on why these structures are in place, who’s benefitting and who’s being harmed by them, and why it’s important to create a truly level playing field?

When white adoptive parents pretend to be colourblind, how can they help their child be proud of the skin they’re in? How can they recognise their child’s need for racial mirrors? How can they help their child understand the beautiful and rich aspects of the child’s ancestry and culture as well as the pain and oppression their race has experienced and continues to experience, and how those dynamics relate to each other? How can they help nurture a racially competent child who grows up into a racially competent adult – even if that means their son or daughter is racially competent in a race that doesn’t match their own? How can they see the role that their white privilege has played throughout their own lives and via the intercountry adoption of their child? How can they decide how to use their white privilege going forward?

None of this is possible if we are teaching and encouraging people, including white adoptive parents, to pretend not to see colour.

by Abby Hilty

Congratulations you’ve just completely erased my first culture, my birth family, my genetic history, my country of origin! Look I know you meant well, but underneath this, there’s an insensitivity or lack of awareness about everything that I was and still am before I was adopted. It’s kind of like you’re saying, “Good job – you have assimilated so well that you’re just like me/us now!” But I’m not.

One of my fellow intercountry adoptee friends joked about how we are coconuts – brown on the outside and white on the inside. It’s funny, but it’s also not funny.

My adoptive parents tried to show me books and documentaries about Vietnam when I was growing up, but I wanted nothing to do with anything that highlighted my difference. When I got sunburnt on my nose, I asked mum if I’d be white underneath. So I got caught up in the “not wanting to see my colour thing” either.

I was very good at being a chameleon, it’s like I had to become one to survive. I was so desperate to fit in and to belong that I learnt fast about how to adapt my personality to be loved and liked. I still do this to this day, but I’m learning that I’m enough as I am and I don’t need to perform to be worthy of being loved.

by Kate Coghlan

The popular TV show This Is Us wowed audiences again with its coverage of transracial adoption. I don’t watch the show, and a lot of adoptees can’t bring themselves to watch it either. And yet it’s immensely popular with adoptive parents. The supposedly “mic drop” scene is as follows:

Jack: When I look at you, I don’t see colour. I just see my son.

Randall: Then you don’t see me, Dad.

During NAAM, it’s particularly biting to see this interaction getting mainstream attention. You see, many of us adoptees of colour have had this exact dialogue with our colourblind families and friends (myself included). 

This isn’t an original line, and dare I say, I wouldn’t be surprised if the writers lurk in adoption spaces and stole this from the stories of adoptees, co-opting our stories for better ratings. 

This isn’t some TV script for your entertainment; this is a painful part of our real lives. It hurts us in deep, existential ways to be denied access to our birth culture and traditions and then to be unseen by our adoptive families. It is actively rejecting us a second time. 

If you refuse to “see” the parts of me that are a brown Indian, then you are actively refusing to support me on my journey to discover who I was born to be. Your choice to take the easy road to claim, “I’m not racist” actively isolates me and in turn plays into its own racial problems. Take the harder road with me, with any of the people of colour in your lives, and learn how to unlearn racial biases. This work requires you to see, so take off your (colour)blinders. 

The fact that it takes a network TV show to get this concept to take hold rather than the direct words of real adoptees should disgust anyone and everyone who loves an adoptee. 

I challenge adoptive parents and allies who support the adoptee attempt to “flip the script” during NAAM to think about how prioritising entertainment over the real words of adoptees is its own form of silencing; to be more intentional about whose voices you choose to uplift; and be more critical of the media you choose to consume.

#NotMyNAAM
#NAAM
#FlipTheScript
#adoption

by Cherish Bolton

Somewhere along the way in my life, I got the message that I’m not a real Asian. As a mixed race adoptee I don’t even dare try to join Chinese adoptee communities or Indian ones for fear of not being enough in some way. I can’t make sense of what it is to be a Malaysian Chindian — I don’t know any others, I’ve never met one. There are no books I know of, no museums or movies. Even if there were, I would be reading them the way an outsider learns about history.

Something I resent is the suggestion I should do something in order to belong. Belonging isn’t a citizenship test!

As an intercountry adoptee brought to England by a white couple with no friends of colour, all the markers of my culture have been erased. Except my skin colour, my hair, it’s texture, my eyes. Each time someone says, “I don’t see colour”, or simply behave as though they don’t, this implicit message that I don’t belong in my biological culture is reinforced and I’m erased a little more.

I don’t forget that my gay friends are gay, I don’t forget their struggle to belong or to feel safe holding hands or kissing in public. To erase that would be a failure of empathy and allegiance. Of course it isn’t the only part of their identity and I’m interested in all the other parts too. The ones that are like me (or not), the parts that amaze, amuse or confuse me — I love them all.

Everyone just wants to be seen. I wonder what makes you feel unseen?

When we experience ourselves differently to how we are seen, there’s a disconnect, a disruption to our identity which isn’t resolvable with free will alone.

Belonging is relational – by its very nature it demands the acceptance of others.

by Juliette Lam

Since the later years of coming to terms with my identity, fitting in between my two worlds (adoptive and birth), understanding the impacts of being relinquished and adopted, I have shared many of my experiences to wide audiences but one situation close to me, never ceases to frustrate me the most. This is when my own adoptive family make this comment, “But we see you as one of us” or “We don’t see you as being different” after trying to explain how I’ve always felt so different and out of place.

I acknowledge, in their eyes, they are trying to say to me that I am accepted and embraced by them as being one of their “clan” despite my skin colour and outward obvious differences. But without any in-depth discussions about the complexities of being intercountry adopted, these types of comments just made me feel even more disconnected and isolated from them. What it showed me was they had very little understanding of my intercountry adopted journey. When they don’t have these important conversations with me, they are oblivious to how their comments make me feel even though I know it is not what they intend.

What would I prefer my family to say? I would prefer them to acknowledge my differences and really try to understand where I’m coming from. For me it’s about the discrepancy I experience on a daily basis because strangers throughout my life meet me once and make basic assumptions that I am NOT one of them (white Australian) based on my appearance – my skin colour, my eyes, my hair. The internal battle I face as an intercountry adoptee, is that whilst in my private family circles I might be fully accepted, it is NOT the experience I have in public outer life.

The constant jarring reminders of “not belonging” in my wider adoptive society leaves me with a lot of unresolved questions of who I am, where do I belong, who are my clan, and how did this reality eventuate. Are my adoptive family even aware of these impacts? No because they are so blind to what everyone else can see and received very little education on race, culture, and the importance of open discussions. Ignorance is not bliss in this case.

So when my adoptive family says, “I don’t see your difference, you’re one of us” when clearly I’m not as clarified by many strangers, this comment only acts to shut down the conversation instead of opening it up and allowing me the space and love to process competing realities.

Being intercountry adopted is not a reality we adoptees can ignore for too long!

by Lynelle Long

I don’t know if it’s the fact that I didn’t grow up in an English-speaking country, but we don’t use the word “colour” to describe a person. In Sweden, we use “foreigner” as opposed to being Swedish. So instead of saying “I don’t see colour”, people would say “I never think of you as anything but Swedish” or “I see you as the same as us”. They say that to be nice.

When I grew up there were very few people in Sweden with a darker complexion. Most didn’t speak the language well and some of them (of course, a small minority) appeared shady. Swedish mindset is to question if they (dark complexion people) could be trusted.

To tell me that I don’t appear foreign means I am a person they trust. But … when I go on dating sites strangers viewing my profile, only see colour. I get less guys who write than my white peers, less matches with white skin but more super likes from “foreign” men.

One time I wrote in my profile text that I was adopted so as not to appear scary. Then I thought adopted might also sound scary, because in Sweden that implies psychological problems. So I deleted it again and had to come to terms with being less popular online.

My close friends have never said these words to me about not appearing foreign but I do things said like this occasionally and every time, I am offended. As if that random person has a right to put an approval stamp on me. As if I were to do anything untrustworthy, he or she would judge me much harder and say, “Hmm, I guess she wasn’t like us, after all”.

by Sarah Mårtensson

What defines me is not what you see, it’s what I see. Colours don’t colour my life, but my experiences in a prejudiced and bigoted society have.

A transracial adoptee’s worth as a human being is both legally and socially determined by his adoptive parents, his adoptive family, their friends and neighbours, and the entire local community that is encouraged to invite him in as one of their own. But as I eventually learned the security blanket of immediate family didn’t always save me from explaining what I was doing there or defending how I belonged. In my youth, it seemed like I was constantly feeling a barrage of disconcerting interactions with other kids who called me out, in so many words, as being a foreigner, even though I knew nothing else than what my Irish Catholic family had taught me: That I was an “Allen”, that I had to go to Mass every Sunday, that I spoke English and that I belonged to them.

The erasure and then replacement of my identity reverberated in how I developed a sense of self: I didn’t really have a Self. I had a mock-up of one, a misfitting template that I was encouraged to carry around and display each and every day. I didn’t know what it meant to be Vietnamese because that was not the point of this whole adoption experiment. I was trained to look in the mirror and pretend that I was just another Irish Catholic kid with a bad temper. I was trained to not read about the war I had been exfiltrated from. I was trained to see myself like everyone else.

I even trained myself not to see colour. Even though my graduating class in high school comprised many kids from refugee families from Southeast Asia as well as several Asian adoptees, including me, I couldn’t pick them out because I refused to see them other than strangers. I didn’t hang out with any of them or even talk to them because why would I? I was “Kevin Allen”. Son of Evalyn and Bob, and oldest brother to two sisters. I couldn’t even find myself for so long because I was lost. Lost in the fantasy that I was just like my parents, just like my aunts and uncles and cousins, and just like the community that held me under its tutelage.

In art studio class in high school we had to do a self-portrait. I took my time drawing mine. I used coloured pencils and got the shading and features of my young face all correct and flattering. I thought it was a great representation of me. It was one of my proudest works. But I never kept it for myself. I gave it to my parents. I felt I had no use for it.

by Kev Minh

NAAM 2019 AdopteeVoices #6

At ICAV, we invited members to share during National Adoption Awareness Month what they would like the public to know. Here’s another of what some of our members are happy to share to the public.

I too feel the pain of adoptees who have to wonder if their child or grandchildren would need to contact them in a foreign country because of facing deportation, or prison — a result of an adoption that did not include citizenship.

This situation would only make me hate what adopters can do to us, from the time we’re gifted (of course for the right fee), till even later in our lives.

The governments, adoption agencies and adoptive parents are able to control what our futures may hold, so we are never living our lives, only what we’re allowed by society and their laws.

We get labelled “ADOPTEE”. To me this label ADOPTEE = SLAVE. Always someone owns us 🤬😭😢 🤬😭😢

At this point, even though I have my citizenship now, I do not rest or feel free. I wonder will laws be changed that may once again cause me the fear of being deported, or what if I were to lose any of my papers, ( kind of like a papered animal) or what if .. so I never feel safe or free.

I have a constant fear, constant anxiety😓😥😰😨🥵.
Adopted = Prisoner in my mind.

by Kim Yang Ai

Whenever a person or a couple tells me they have dreamed of adopting, I know that they haven’t thought beyond themselves. No child dreams of losing their parents and much more. The fulfilment of their dreams comes at the cost of another’s family.
No God that I would want to believe in, would give a person life long trauma in order to fulfil another’s dream.

by Hea Ryun Garza

NAAM 2019 AdopteeVoices #5

At ICAV, we invited members to share during National Adoption Awareness Month what they would like the public to know. Here’s another of what some of our members are happy to share to the public.

I’m not a tree whose roots have been cut off. That’s what others want me to believe. The ones handling the chainsaw to cut me off.

I’m not feeling guilt for having interest in my own story, the truth.
And no, I still don’t have access to full and correct information about myself.

I’m a Belgian guy, carrying my heritage with me. I don’t have to choose which country I belong to. It’s all part of me.

I’m not ashamed to say I’m not grateful for adoption. Not ashamed to say I remember feeling miserable as a child, and lonely most of my life. Because that’s the truth and denial used to be a way to try to cope with those feelings.

No, I’m not a bottomless pit.

It is believed there is trauma from the beginning, from the separation of the birth mom. But even then I did not start with the incapability of bonding or returning love. 
That others can’t feel it or recognise it, is their lack of knowledge or interpretation skills. 

Yes I have trauma mainly from my adoptive parents. Yes, I know many adoptees who were abused.
So I’ll start taking care of trauma and stop trying to rehabilitate. 

I stopped being afraid of hurting my adoptive parents’ feelings a long time ago. And I’ll stop being a people pleaser soon.

Yes, I grew up with racism. Adoptive parents trying not to be racist don’t change that, except for making the topic undiscussable.
And no, my white culture doesn’t change my colour of your skin.

Yes, adoption is about people paying money for someone else’s child.
And drawing the stakeholders in adoption as a triangle will make you forget about the squares and circles in and around it.

No, I can’t tell if it’s better to be adopted or not, because I can’t compare to an unexisting life.
Neither can you.

by Less Lee