Research indicates that the media and anecdotal stories from family and friends inform most people about adoption (yikes, scary! hello, Lifetime movies and Disney storylines!). And we also know that educators are expected to have a knowledge base about so many topics pertaining to kids, development, education, etc. (not to mention, they're usually underpaid and underappreciated -- TEACHERS, PLEASE KNOW THAT YOU ARE LOVED AND APPRECIATED!).

For these reasons and because I believe educators truly desire to best care for and support each and every one of the children in their classes, I find it helpful to be informative with those who are spending so much time with our children. Along with informing about adoption and its impact on our families, we can also take the time to share about the complexities of adoption and our expectations and desires as it relates to our kids.

I've quoted from this sample email to teachers at my sessions and have been asked to share it. This serves as a basic informative "hello-this-is-our-family-and this-is-adoption" email. You may copy, paste, add, delete, and edit it as you wish. Some of it will not be applicable to your family; other parts of it you might just dislike. Some parents may want to add information about various areas impacting your child such as neurological wiring, medical diagnoses, trauma triggers, or the like.

Please use as you feel appropriate. Certainly I could have included more, but hopefully this covers some of the basics of what we want our kids' teachers to know about adoption.

///

Dear Mrs. Smith,
 
Our daughter, Sarah Jones, will be in your class this year, and we are looking forward to a fantastic fourth grade year! Sarah enjoys reading, science experiments, and playing soccer. She is excited to begin school though is going to miss her later summer bedtime.

We recognize that teachers are expected to have knowledge about so many topics affecting students and child development, and having parented Sarah for several years now, we've come to understand that many people have questions about our family. We thought it would be helpful to share a bit about us so you can best understand and support our daughter.

Sarah was born in Guatemala and was adopted by us when she was a baby. While we talk very openly with Sarah about her adoption, we don’t believe her adoption status is relevant to most conversations at school. We understand that her peers may ask her (or even you) questions about adoption and that they will notice that she doesn't "match" her parents. We are so grateful to be Sarah's dad and mom, yet we are mindful that some of these comments and questions from peers and even adults may feel uncomfortable to Sarah, given that most kids yearn to fit in with their peers rather than to stick out and be seen as different or "other". We also believe that Sarah's story is her own and that she should not be expected to share every detail about her adoption with others even though many are curious.

We acknowledge and respect the layers to Sarah's identity (as our daughter, as an adoptee, and as Guatemalan, to name just a few!), yet we don’t expect for her to be used as the example for adoption and/or for racial diversity – what a tremendous burden for any student. We also know that some school assignments may be challenging or even impossible for children who were adopted and/or have experienced trauma, early childhood transitions/losses, etc. Examples of these projects include the family tree, bringing in baby photos, timelines, genetic projects, ancestry projects, etc. Please let us know if any of these projects will be assigned this school year, as we are aware of similar assignments that accomplish the same learning objectives that are doable for all students. We are happy to provide you with information prior to assigning the project(s).

Ways to support Sarah in the classroom include simply acknowledging her adoption status when/if it comes up in conversation without expecting her to share all of the details about her adoption and/or family; keeping your ears open to her peers' sometimes repeated questions regarding her race, ethnicity, or adoption (give us a heads up if this is occurring so that we can be aware and visit the topic with Sarah); understanding that being an adoptee is certainly not her only identity yet is one that may be on her mind more than any of us realize; and keeping in mind that she's a typical fourth grader with strengths and weakness and a unique personality all her own.

Please, should you have any questions about adoption or about Sarah, call or email us, as we recognize that adoption is complex and that no two students or families are the same.

We are looking forward to a fantastic fourth grade year. We appreciate already your commitment to education and to children.

Sincerely,

Steve and Linda Jones

{ to keep up with the conversation and other updates, follow me on Facebook }

But when I truly allow myself to go to the place of believing in and imagining these two individuals, the thoughts and feelings are deep. For there are no boundaries for the emotions of loss and grief. There is no recipe for confusion and unanswered questions. There is no five step program for trying to make sense of the ambiguous.

And while I don't think of my Korean parents on a daily or even weekly basis, I recognize that without meeting them or without even just knowing something about them, there is almost no confirmation of my existence or of my entering the world. I firmly believe that I don't need this meeting or to have this knowledge of them in order to be whole, yet these are universal rights that most possess... but ones that many adoptees and myself do not have.

How do adoptees make sense of knowing that the two people who gave them life and were supposed to be their nurturers, protectors, and unconditional loves are strangers and are completely unknown to them? How does one ever have closure knowing these birth parents are walking the same earth and breathing the same air? How do adoptees not wonder if they too are being looked for or imagined of and dreamed about? How does one not therefore search? Yet how does one search and put one's heart out there when knowing the chances are slim?

Being adopted is ongoing, multi-layered, complex, and nuanced. There are no easy answers, though there are pressures to please people, to "get over the past", or to realize "how good we've got it".

What a relief for an adoptee to hear that living in this gray and in this tension is okay. That feeling both pain and no pain is possible. That she is not alone in this walk of being adopted. That being an adoptee can be simultaneously most wonderful and most tragic.

Adoptees have no choice in living their realities of tragedy and gain and of ambiguity and unknown. But every one of us has the choice to recognize that we really don't know what it feels like to be adopted, to release all expectations and assumptions of adoptees, and to allow them the same time, support, and space any one of us would want were we also walking, racing, dancing, and sometimes even tripping down the adoptee road.

{ as posted on Facebook, 05/17/2016 }

‪#‎WhatThisAdopteeIsThinkingTonight‬ ‪#‎complexitiesOfAdoption‬

I've traveled to Korea several times and have visited my orphanage a couple of times also. In preparing to visit again...

Posted by Tara Vanderwoude - Social Worker. Advocate. Educator on Wednesday, June 3, 2015

The reason we need to give our kids their full stories and offer them the full gamut of emotions as it relates to...

Posted by Tara Vanderwoude - Social Worker. Advocate. Educator on Monday, April 20, 2015

Reality:

I am truly and absolutely 100% Korean, and I am also 100% American.
Yet I am rarely 100% Korean enough, and I am so often not 100% American enough.

Therein lies the reality for many transnational and/or transracial adoptees.

Breaking it down:

I'm 100% Korean. I mean, look at me. I'm Korean. Don't tell me you're colorblind and didn't even notice.

I'm also 100% American. I've lived in the States for 97% of my life and have the citizenship papers and cultural experiences to prove it.

However, I'm rarely Korean enough when in the company of non-adopted Koreans (I still need a translator, don't know enough about cultural norms, absolutely don't taken in enough gochujang, and didn't grow up with Korean parents)...

And I'm certainly often not American enough to satisfy those around me (strangers compliment my spoken English, point out the shape of my eyes, see me as fresh off the boat, or make both hurtful assumptions about my personality or intelligence based on my appearance).

Both / and.
Neither / nor.

Days and weeks go by when I don't give much thought to this reality or unique aspect of who I am.
It just is what it is.

But then something is said or done, and my reality of being both/and AND neither/nor smacks me in the face.

Sometimes the face-smack is just whatever and worthy of an eye-roll, sometimes it's painful, sometimes it's laughable, and sometimes it's maddening.  

But in understanding and supporting this reality for me and for my fellow transnational and/or transracial adoptees:

... let's simply acknowledge this tension and way of life

... let's understand it's not something that needs fixing or romanticizing or sympathy

... let's not draw boxes around the way adoptees self-identity

... let's allow adoptees to change their perspectives as they age and develop and as experiences are lived out

... let's not be afraid of an adoptee's reality and feelings but simply listen and see the complexities

... let's recognize there is nothing wrong with this reality -- it's inherent in being an adopted person

... let's trust that adoptees feel and experience and even choose to verbalize this kind of stuff at various rates and levels and for various reasons

... let's not pretend that this reality doesn't matter

... let's not assume that this reality is the only part of an adoptee's identity

... let's believe it's not something to just "get over" or something that "ends"

Hmm. But wait a moment... am I truly and absolutely 100% Korean?

I will probably never ever for certain know.
But I'm absolutely 100% going with it. 

{ to keep up with the conversation, find me on Facebook, where I post most often }

I sometimes wonder what adoptive parents mean when at the suggestion of teaching their kids the culture of their birth, they reply, "But I don't want to push Korea on them" or "I don't want to make them do something they might not want to do".

Because here's the truth: we "push" all kinds of things on our kids. We enroll them in ballet, soccer, science camp, piano lessons, babysitting courses, Cub Scouts, tennis lessons, summer camps, sewing or chess clubs, choir, and beyond....

So is it really always "pushing"? Or is it exposing? Or is it demonstrating the value and importance and respect we have for our kids' birth culture? And in turn a value and respect we have for them and their birth family and their birth culture? And when we start when our kids are young, weaving components of language and other culture into our family lifestyle, it's just a way of life and no big crazy deal. It's a part of what makes you the unique family that you are... just as your family values sports, classical music, geocaching, travel, deer hunting, Broadway musicals, or whatever it may be. There's nothing to be fearful of--this is your child and a part of who your child is.

My first grader is loving language class. And before you go all Debbie-Downer on me ("Well, you just wait..."), of course I know the interest and excitement may wane or that it may not be "cool" down the road. But for now we're going with it and having fun with it, even if we realize that no one in our family may ever be fluent.

For if I would "push" gymnastics or piano lessons on my child, why wouldn't I "push" something that is a part of my child's history and even a part of their present. Because they are in fact Korean--no matter where they live--and many will even expect them to know the language and culture. Why not try to set them up as best I can for competency in this area? Anything I can do to support their identity now and to lay the groundwork for down the road is what I want to be doing.

Tonight the homework was done excitedly not just because the language is just that fun, but because I also know my darling wants to impress the Korean college and high school aged teachers. Because let's face it--anything with a college student is far cooler and more fun than anything with one's own mom. :-)

[ photo: tonight's homework. And as for the future and language class, we'll take it one day, or even one year, at a time. ]

[ this post copied entirely from a status I wrote on my Facebook page on 03/10/15 ]

I know you love me. I know you love me dearly. So dearly. And I love you too.

In fact, you love me so much and were so excited to tell the entire world that you were adopting a toddler. And while the news was received with much excitement, you were surprised when the first few people didn't completely understand why you and dad were adopting and when some friends wondered why you were adopting from my birth country instead of from the States. You were also taken aback when people responded with horror stories about adoption or when folks told you that you were angels for adopting or that I would be the luckiest baby ever. Even the handful who responded by saying that they could never love a child that wasn't really "theirs" were simply trying to respond to the news and didn't know what else to say. I get it. You've heard it all, and that must have been exhausting trying to educate people about adoption.

Your excitement continued as you ventured through the adoption process. Fingerprints, interviews with the adoption social worker who asked you about everything from your monthly expenses to the details of your marital relationship to your tucked away childhood memories... the doctor appointments and the  psychological evaluations and waiting in long lines to have documents state sealed... dashing to the Walgreen's to pick up photos for your dossier and writing long drafts of your autobiography for a social worker to comb over... What a crazy process, and one in which many people do not understand.

In fact, to document your process and to share your excitement, you started a blog. After all, you had read so many blogs of other adoptive parents that you were quite excited to start your own. You put your adoption timeline on the sidebar, added photos of my decorated bedroom, and popped in with posts here and there to let your friends and family know how things were going (or not going... we know adoption takes a long time).

You were that excited for me, and you hadn't even met me.

And, of course upon meeting me, your love for me materialized, and it became "us" instead of "you" and "me".

The photos that were taken of our first moments together and of our first days in that small hotel room--you shared them on your blog, as so many people were waiting to see "us". You described my behaviors and the words that I used and went into great detail about my appearance--the appearance of a girl who had lived in an orphanage for three years. You talked about how blessed you were to be adopting me and about how you were so glad I was finally coming "home". Of course you didn't want to forget a thing and also wanted others to experience and learn about this miraculous thing called adoption, so you typed out every last thought and feeling.

But as you continued to blog and to join adoption Facebook groups, you became more and more comfortable with on-line friendships and support groups. After all, these were your peers who were also adopting or had "been there done that", and some of them became close friends. Who else to ask about where you can get the cheapest plane tickets to my birth country or how to address my hoarding of food or how to handle the tantrums when I was so scared and confused about the new people who looked nothing like me.

And I know that you love me and that you believe in adoption and that you want to get other people on board and more comfortable and excited about the way our family came together... or maybe you want to use my story and my adoption as a way to offer support and encouragement to other adoptive parents. To give hope, to show them that they are not alone, and to let them know that they are normal in their experiences and in their feelings of parenting an adopted child. Because we know that adoptive parents are often in the trenches--plugging along with attachment strains and language challenges and medical needs--and not always very understood by those around them.

But can I ask you one thing?

Please be careful with what you say about me online.

Certainly you've read about the dangers of the internet. That whatever is posted on the virtual highways of the world wide web is there forever. There is no guarantee that the words and photos you have posted of and about me will not be replicated, used in manners that you do not wish, or shared with others with intent different than your own. And someday when I figure out how to google my own name--what will I read about myself?

So when you write about me and my adoption in your excitement and with your pure intentions, please don't share everything. Especially on the internet. And especially when you haven't even shared it with me.

Because remember, oh please remember, I had to lose a whole bunch in order to even become a part of your family. Like, I had to lose my father and my mother and my extended family and my language and the culture of my community and birth country. I had to move to an entirely new country and get on an airplane with complete strangers. I'm not even old enough to understand what all of this means yet, so it doesn't seem fair for Great Aunt Gertrude to know the sensitive and personal details about my birth parents or about my relinquishment before I do. And it doesn't seem fair for your hairdresser and for your Facebook friends to know how old my birthparents are and about their lifestyle choices when I don't yet know.

While it's not a secret that I was adopted, I hope that most of the information will be mine to share. And I also hope that this information isn't stored on the internet forever for just anyone to read.

Can you imagine if I learn from the kids at school (who learned from their parents, your friends) that my first family didn't make enough money to keep me or that my parents didn't know what to do with me so left me on the side of a street? I need to hear this information from you, and when you tell others first, you're running the risk of others telling me before you do.

Or worse, you're running the risk of the story morphing into something simply untrue. You know the game of telephone, right? Everyone loves a good adoption story, and what if the details of my first family and my adoption get so out of hand with it traveling from interested person to interested person that the information isn't accurate anymore? Not to mention that I don't want everyone talking about me, especially since I'm already going to be sticking out in my family and in my community.

My adoptee friends and I started our lives in the wombs of mothers just like everyone else did. Except our lives took sharp turns early on, and usually we came with very little when we joined our new families. Sometimes with just the clothes on our backs and our given names from the orphanages. So the information you were given about us in our referral paperwork or the words that were verbally shared about us from social workers or orphanage staff? Well, that's pretty darn important information to us. Because when you have little to nothing about the first years of your life, everything becomes important.

And again, I recognize that you may be trying to exchange information and experiences about adoption with fellow adoptive parents for good reasons. That you want others to know that you're all in it together with attachment struggles or bonding challenges. That you want new adoptive parents to consider things you had never considered. Or maybe it's that you and your adoptive parent friends are discussing drugs, homelessness, lifestyle choices, or abuse/neglect in the context of our first families and learning from one another how best to share that information with us. But please don't state and discuss those things publicly on the internet. Find a different way to receive and offer support and information without blasting our information publicly on the World Wide Web for all to see. 

You love me, and I know your intent isn't to embarrass me or to paint me as a charity case or as a mere statistic or to showcase me as an example of adoption gone well. Or to make me stick out more than I already do. But sometimes the implications of your sharing on the internet includes all of those things. 

Please think twice before posting that status update, publishing that blog post, or even sharing about my adoption with your Tuesday night book club.

I love you,

Your Daughter
#flipthescript

{ to keep up with this conversation and more, find me on Facebook }

Thoughts or other feedback?

A Google search for "adoption quotes" quickly confirms there are plenty of them floating around. Most appear to affirm and celebrate adoption and the families it creates. Some sanitize the loss and tragedy of relinquishment or abandonment; others compare adoption to pregnancy or indicate that love is enough. Even others put down biological connections in order to justify adoption's goodness and rightness.

The absence of words that describe the complex nature of adoption is noticeable. For in only celebrating adoption, we may be inadvertently dismissing and silencing others' experiences of loss and grief. And furthermore, a picture of adoption is painted that declares adoption as something only wonderful or easy or inspirational.

And that's far from the truth.
And language is powerful.

In scanning the available quotes and words, I found few that I can truly stand behind. I don't believe it's necessary or kind or right to put down genetic connections just to make adoption more okay or respected. Nor do I think platitudes and positive spins give the full truth of what adoption entails, but rather they may actually hinder adoptees in processing the events and feelings of their own lives. And while I do wish adoption, adoptees, adoptive parents, and first/birth parents were better understood, I don't think the existing adoption quotes do us justice.

So at the suggestion of a friend, I've started putting together my own words and have created images of word art about the truths and complexities of adoption. As I joked on my Facebook page, I understand that these quotes won't be the ones found hanging on office or home walls, but they are ones that speak to the truths and complexities that encompass adoption. And if they help change the narrative of adoption to include all views and voices and stories which includes discussing the complex realities, and if they might offer support and perspective to another person in the adoption community, well, then I'm all for getting these words out there.

Since sharing my thoughts on not being an exotic Asian, I've been hitting the pool with my kids, enjoying thoughtful and sometimes downright hilarious conversation with newish and oldish friends, shopping at the Goodwill where I buy gobs of milk glass and children's books and kids' clothing, visiting out-of-state grandparents and friends, schlepping together dinner (every. single. day.), researching washing machines and blenders, substitute teaching at my kids' school, holding my husband's hand, killing fruit flies, teaching Sunday School to 5 and 6 year olds, watching my kids' soccer games, shopping at Costco and Trader Joe's, forgetting to weed the garden, wiping the kitchen countertops again and again and again, and wasting time online. The summer months and these early fall days also brought a busyness and privilege of traveling to speak at some great camps and conferences and schools, answering emails from parents and fellow adoptees, and meeting with parents one-on-one and in larger groups to discuss parenting adopted children.

It's a rich and full and varied life that I'm so thankful to be living. It's a life that keeps me on my toes, encourages learning and relationships, and reminds me of who I am. And soon enough I'll be back to unloading my mind on the blog... but for now, keep up with me on Facebook (where I tend to write the world's longest statuses).

Cheers!

One day, I looked through the windowed opening of the reception area and greeted a man who had just walked in. He took a seat in the waiting area and later stood up and walked over to me. Thinking he needed an ink pen or to confirm an appointment, I smiled and asked how I could help him. I think he said hi and then proceeded to say words that I'll never forget.

"You look just like the ladies in my Asian porn magazines... do you model? Is it you in one of my magazines?"

I was 17 years old. A very, very innocent 17 years old.

And I had no idea what had just happened.

I felt sick to my stomach and wondered if I had done something wrong. Instinctively, I walked away from the window. I can't remember exactly what I did next, but I remember looking down at my clothing. I can still remember the light purple turtleneck I was wearing and the long black polyester skirt. Was it my fault he asked me this? Was it something I was wearing?

I remember telling a female manager at the office about what happened. I sat in Sue's office, feeling more embarrassed than anything else, and repeated what the man said to me. I was worried that she would tell our male colleagues and that they'd think I was a trouble-maker or look at me differently. She told me that I did nothing wrong and explained the office's emergency procedures (apparently I could overhead page a specific person's name -- someone who in fact didn't work at the office -- which was code for," I need help. As soon as possible.)

Adoptive parents of Asian girls, this stuff happens. And if you're like those who have heard me briefly talk about this topic at education sessions, you're shocked that this stuff happens. But it does, and it will almost surely happen to your daughter.

And as someone who was blindsided by my experiences and felt terribly embarrassed with no Asian mentor or role model to whom to go, I'm all for getting the word out so that we can prepare our daughters and be their allies. Otherwise, I'd rather not talk about this. It's uncomfortable, and I feel vulnerable just sharing about this. It's left me feeling insecure and yucky (for lack of a better, more academic word) and even at times doubtful about my Asian identity and how I am perceived by others.

This office scenario was unfortunately only the first of many similar instances.

There was that time I left a store at the mall and walked right into a group of four or five young adult guys. One of them said, "Hey, my friend here has always wanted a Chinese girlfriend." Another guy chimed in, "Where are you from?" And yet another, "Do you want to go out?" I ignored them and walked away.

Or the time when I left my son's pediatrician's office and was buckling my son into his car seat. A guy had followed me out of the office and to my car. He said, "Hey, do you play tennis? You have a tennis player body. I used to know this Korean girl who plays tennis." He then went on to ask "what I was" and if I worked in a nail or a massage parlor. I quickly hopped into my car and drove away.

Then there are the many truck drivers who honk at me when I pass them on the highway. Or the men who yell "konnichiwa" and catcall me.

I wish I could count on just one hand how many times sexual comments have related to my being Asian, but I can't.

In my early 20s, I became friends with more and more Korean adoptees, and it was then that I learned that these incidents were not unique to me. The terms Yellow Fever and Asian Fetish were tossed out (I'll let you google those terms on your own and at your own risk), and I learned about the websites devoted to finding just the right Asian girlfriend. My friends and I would collectively roll our eyes at the instances of being called exotic Asians, and together we'd laugh about the stereotypes that were shaping others' views of us.

Parents, please read about the objectification and exotification of Asian women in particular and build in conversations with your daughters about race and gender and the related assumptions. This is necessary in being a transracial adoptive parent. Your child's experiences will be different than yours.

For when your daughter is confronted with her first "exotic submissive Asian" comment, she needs to know that Yellow Fever and the Asian Fetish are based on stereotypes and not on anything she's done. She needs to know it's not wrong to be Asian and that she's not the only one being objectified and exoticized based on her race. She needs to know that she can be secure in how she looks and that you won't dismiss the instance with, "Well, honey, it's just because you're so beautiful". She needs to know that you do in fact see her as Asian, and that being Asian is good and okay... because if you don't see race (as many people ascertain), then how can you even start to understand these race-based experiences she is sharing with you?

She needs to know that you are knowledgeable and strong enough to handle conversations about her experiences, for you are her parent, her advocate, and her ally.

{ to keep up with this conversation and more, follow me on Facebook }

I didn’t initially recognize that the video was related to adoption, as I was a bit confused by the title, so I didn’t know what to expect when I started watching.

After I got over the awkwardness of it all (I mean, come on, hearing and watching a grown man and father say the words boob job is just uncomfortable!), I was able to watch through the end.

The guy was obviously using humor (or what he sees as humor) to make a point. That humor wasn't lost on me, but I also didn't think the video was all that hilarious. And it isn’t something that I’d feel comfortable posting as a PSA on my Facebook page.

A few reasons this video didn't sit well with me:

- Comparing and contrasting adoptees to boob jobs. Weird. Icky. Odd. Sorry, but (surprise!) boob jobs are not what I want to be compared to, and definitely not what I want others to think about when they consider asking me a question about my kids. I know the guy may not be saying that adopted kids are just like boob jobs, but it comes out all wrong in the way he frames his compare/contrast idea.

- This video’s place in the broader, macro conversation about adoption. This video is being well-liked and enjoyed by many. Adoptive parents (and those who know them) are cackling with laughter. I realize that, yes, it must get old when people ask you about your children all the time, though parents did sign up for this when they agreed to adopt. Further, I know that when adoptees have chosen to share perspectives about uncomfortable questions and/or sensitive areas about adoption (just as this father is doing), their voices are sometimes quieted by those who question their happiness or wonder if they love their adoptive parents. The father in this video, on the other hand, is able to create this film, and my guess is that few folks, if any, are wondering if he loves his daughter or are assuming that he’s an unhappy father. In the broader conversation about adoption, adoptive parents’ perspectives are widely accepted, while adoptee perspectives are still being challenged with unfair assumptions about adoptees. This is not okay.

- He’s still saying it’s okay to ask intrusive questions. Initially I thought I liked how the guy offers viewers other ways of asking sensitive questions, but when I watched it a second time, I realized he is essentially making the point that it's still okay to ask intrusive questions... well, as long as you use the right words and ask in his accepted format. I don't agree. Some of these questions just shouldn't be asked. And, the question, "Where is your daughter from?" is just as bad as, "Where'd you get her from?" Equating skin color to "otherness" and insinuating that one may not be "from here" based on skin color is faulty.

Additionally, as my husband and I were talking, he pointed out that most of the people posting and watching this video are likely already connected to adoption in some way. It’s mostly adoptive parents or friends of adoptive parents sharing the video because they think it's funny, because they’ve experienced the same questions, or because they want people to stop asking them questions. So if these are the people posting and watching, they already know not to ask these questions. At least we hope. So the fact that this guy frames the video as a PSA maybe kind of works -- but is it really doing much good otherwise? Or is it just a funny way to make a point, maybe get a little online attention/props, and make people laugh?

On my Facebook page, I shared a post from The Lost Daughters blog, prefacing the link with, "I'd urge you to also read the perspectives of several adult adopted women who converse about the video and its implications in the broader, macro conversation about adoption. Perhaps they mention something you have not yet considered. As adoptive parents, let's keep listening to and learning from adult adoptees."

In this Lost Daughters post, several female adoptees converse about the video. They make some of the same points that I mention above, along with others with which I whole-heartedly agree. The use of the word biological. Making infertility the only question one really shouldn't ask, yet please, go ahead and ask intrusive questions about adopted children and their place in my family. The reality that some adoptive parents just don't want to deal with these comments when it's ultimately the adoptees who are affected.

_________

Do I think you're a terrible adoptive parent if you watched this video and laughed? Nah.
Do I know that some adoptees watched this video and found it hilarious? Of course.
Did some adoptees tell me that they thought this video was far from funny but would never say so out loud, as they don’t want to be seen as an “angry” adoptee. Yes.

These questions that our children overhear can be deeply internalized without authentic conversation and discussion between adoptive parent and child. When educating families about how to talk with their kids about adoption, I include a part not only about responses but also a part about the importance of talking with their children after overhearing a question related to the child’s race or adoption. So as you and your seven-year old get into the car after grocery shopping, you might say, “Sweetie, I was thinking about the question that gentleman asked about where you’re from…” Or, “Honey, do you know WHY people ask us if you’re my real child?” Or, “The reason some people ask where you’re from is because many people assume…” Or, “Sometimes people may stare at us because…”

Humorous attempts at making a serious point sometimes work. In my opinion, this one falls short by using offensive ideas and language and fails to address some important underlying issues related to transracial families.

Humor may be comfortable (and yes, sometimes it is used appropriately), but let’s also remember the more important work that needs to be done in respecting our children’s privacy, talking with our kids about these very comments, empowering them to handle the questions in a variety of ways, and finally remembering that our uncomfortable and frustrating encounters as adoptive parents likely pale in comparison to the experiences and losses that our children navigate throughout their lifetimes.

These assumptions about adopted folks aren't pretty, and they are far from fair.

It often happens like this. An adoptee writes a blog post -- one that gives voice to a complexity, to a deep pain, or to an insight or perspective of the imperfect system.

This leaves some readers uncomfortable or angry, or perhaps they just plain disagree. Maybe they don't want to think that their own adopted children will ever feel the same pain or discomfort, or maybe they don't want to believe that the very system that gave them their children comes with grief or with questionable practices. Or maybe the reader is an adoptee who feels protective and loyal to adoption because it gave her new parents or because she's only known her own experience and no one else's.

And then in their disagreement or discomfort, some readers react with assumptions... as if believing these assumptions will negate the message of the blog post.

She's just angry she was adopted.
He hasn't come to terms with his adoption.
Obviously she's not thankful she was adopted.
If only he'd focus on the blessings of adoption.
She is consumed with adoption and doesn't care about anything else.

It's maddening when I hear adoptee voices being discounted or silenced because of these assumptions.

It's frustrating that I feel l the need to say that I'm not in this field because I'm angry or because I don't like my adoptive parents (hi dad and mom!) or because I had a terrible childhood as an adoptee.

Devoting my professional life to adoption education is more than about me and my own experiences.

When my years as an adoption agency social worker started nearly a decade ago, I was quickly intrigued by what I learned about the lifelong implications for those around me. Reading adoption literature, attending conferences, listening to experts in the field, and having conversations with countless adoptees, adoptive parents, adoption professionals, and birth/first parents, I yearned to learn as much as I possibly could.

This professional role challenged me.

It forced me to look past and beyond my own experiences and roles as an adopted person (and adoptive mother) so that I could listen to others who though in the same roles, may have processed things differently or have had vastly different experiences.

I educate about adoption because I hear from parents that they need support and information. I educate because I feel strongly that social workers and agencies who help connect parents and children through adoption have an ethical obligation to provide education and support throughout the lifetime. 

I write because adoption is not a universal experience and because many still rely on anecdotal stories or the media to shape their perceptions of adoptees and adoption. I write because I hope people will consider a different perspective. I write because adopted person perspectives are sorely lacking in conversations about adoption. I write about adoption to offer a multi-dimensional perspective that challenges the perceived adoption voices of naivety, bliss, or anger. I write because little to nothing is black and white in adoption.

I write because we're all in this together, and we all still have learning to do.

I remember the first time I saw one. The lady was confidently wearing it and toting her transracially adopted child in her arms. And then I saw another one sported by a mom who was holding the hand of an unknowing toddler with black hair and dark brown eyes.

One Less Orphan was screen-printed on the first mama's shirt. Just ADOPT!  said the second mother's tee.

With the same cotton fabric but with different texts and graphics, similar t-shirts say:

Save the children! (with a graphic of the country of China)
Orphan No More
147 Million Orphans
Expecting... (and then a graphic of Ethiopia... or China... or Korea...)
Adopt Ethiopia!
147,000,000 orphans... minus 1!
Change One Life
or a t-shirt that gives statistics of third world countries and then the words, Adopt One!

Before I write any further, I realize that the people who make and wear these pieces (or dress their kids in them) are likely coming from a place of love. They mean no harm. In fact, they are likely compassionate and creative and want to care for children just like you and I do.

But when I see these t-shirts, I cringe, recognizing the incredible amount of attention they put on adopted children. Just walk a day in the life of a transracially adopted child, and you'll see he already gets copious amounts of attention given the mismatched appearance he has with his parent(s).

Then add the presence of one of the t-shirts, pushing him into the spotlight further and without his consent, and it screams, "THIS KID WAS AN ORPHAN!" It makes the child, even if unintentionally, the poster child for international adoption or for orphan care. Yes, the child instantly becomes an advertisement for adoption.

Beyond the issue of elevating the child as an ambassador for international adoption, these t-shirts connote far more than the actual words and graphics. Strangers and others start seeing the child as a service project. Or view the first grader as a charity case rather than a boy who likes Legos like his friends. Or perhaps others will believe the child is continually in need of saving or rescuing, given that the a-parents wear these t-shirts again and again and again. Some will fail to see the child as any other child but rather first as an orphan in need of pity.

And what comments and conversations do these t-shirts evoke?

Oh, you're child is so lucky to have been adopted.
That poor, poor child. He's so fortunate.
And to think she would have grown up in an orphanage without you.
You're such an angel for adopting!
She was once so helpless and now she has you!
Thank goodness she could come to America.
I sure hope he grows up to know how lucky he is and what you went through to adopt him.

You can imagine how these comments and ensuing conversations might be internalized by the adopted child and how they may affect identity formation. That, however, could be a whole other blog post.

I understand that these shirts are worn proudly to raise awareness or to celebrate adoption and/or children. I recognize that proceeds for some of these shirts are used to feed and shelter vulnerable children, but could we think of other ways to accomplish these same goals -- perhaps ones that do not dehumanize adopted children into numbers or charity cases in their presence? What an unnecessary and tremendous burden to put on adopted children, reducing them and their personal stories to pity, propaganda, and statistics.

I've surely stepped on some toes, but I urge you to consider what you might not have already.

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To keep up with this conversation and more, find me on Facebook and Twitter.

But let me tell you, even as an adult, it can be an awkward conversation to have with someone. I make the statement, and then it's the reaction of the other person that heads us down an all too familiar road.

Oh! I'm so very sorry.
Wow, and you turned out just great!
My cousin's girlfriend's nephew's wife's neighbor was adopted too!
Have you met your real mom and dad? 
I bet you feel so lucky!
I bet that's why you decided to adopt your kids--how wonderful!
Do you know Charlie--he's my adoptee friend who lives in California.
That must really stink.
I  just can't imagine someone giving up their kid.
Oh, that's just heartbreaking!
Moms in China can't keep their babies, but I think they're beautiful.
Oh, I always WISHED that I was adopted--you're parents actually CHOSE you!
I've just always wanted to adopt!

You get the point. 

Do you see that to tell someone that I was adopted, it gets intimate really fast? So even if I don't mind telling someone about who I am, it's not entirely a piece of cake having to manage other people's reactions to my adopted person status. I find myself consoling them (Oh, it's okay I was adopted. I'm just fine.), educating them (Actually not all adoptees know each other--believe it or not, there are millions of us), calling them out on their ignorance (It's more complicated than you think), and more.

So next time someone tells you that they were adopted, realize that it is chocked full of complexities.

Know that adopted people aren't freak shows or celebrities or service projects or someone to feel sorry for. Know that all adopted persons are at different places in their understanding of what it means to be adopted. Know that adopted people have multiple families and worlds to navigate. Know that adoption is usually a response to a crisis or tragedy. Know that the adopted person may or may not want to go into full details of their life story just because you're curious--especially if you're a COMPLETE STRANGER (I'm talking to you, Target cashier!). Know that there is more to me than the sole fact I was adopted.

Just know that adopted persons are typical people too.

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To keep up with this conversation and more, find me on Facebook and Twitter.