Thankful

Thankful: the word keeps popping up this month. Obviously it has to do with Thanksgiving, and perhaps the idea that we should be thankful for the good things in life and the unsuspected happiness that arrives after a bad spell, though sometimes we don't think of these until years later.

Good things come out of bad situations. Me? I'm a product of a one night stand. My birth mother disregarded the easy way out (though she didn't know of my existence until she was 7 months along, so there were only 2 months of so-called social "shame" on her part... but from what I can tell, even 1 second of shame feels like an agonizing eternity, so what do I know?) and gave me up for a better life. She probably still wonders why she didn't know know about me until it was too late; that she could have taken better care of me while I was still developing. More than likely, her father and mother forced her to give me up...after all, my maternal grandfather's name is on the surrender sheet. It would have been her father who could have legitimized me by registering me under his family, not my birthmother. Instead, I was given away. Who knows? Maybe she did want to keep me... but without registration, I would be an outcast, if I weren't already an outcast for being brought up in a single family home. I may even be 훈헐 (houn-hyol)...of mixed blood; inferior. That would not have helped any matters for my future in Korea. What other choice was there but surrendering me in hopes for a better life?

If she had any hopes (not saying she didn't, but I cannot put words in her mouth), those did not go to waste. I have a family who loves me. There are several instances of this love, and those of you who have met my parents realize that I am loved. Those of you who know my brother and sister know that I am loved by them as well. Yes, we have all have had our moments of quarrels. In the end, when we look at the damage done, we realize we were actually communicating the same thing all along. For example: I went through this phase in which my physical insecurity had come to a head. I loathed myself, and I loathed myself for loathing myself if that's understandable. After all, my family kept telling me how proud they were of me... so in loathing myself, I was also loathing the opinions of those whom I held in high regard. When I finally voiced my self-loathing, the reaction was met with some abruptness. At first I was hurt, how could my family be so cursory towards me? Then I remembered...

When I was a little girl, my mom and I were in line at K-Mart. The lady at the register kept looking at me and then at my mom attempting to get it through her tiny pea-brain head that she was actually seeing a mother with her daughter. After a few moments, curiosity got the better of her and the cashier says to my mother, "What a beautiful child! She must look like her father!" as if mom's and my looks were the judge of our relationship rather than the emotional bond. My mother, very bluntly states: "Well, I wouldn't know." and walks off. 

My family is very loyal. We love each other and hold each other fiercely and want to protect each other. What happens when the person we try to protect the other from is the self? My family wasn't being harsh to me... they were insulted for me...that I could not see my own belonging within their circle even after all this time. Even now, I am reminded everyday, even through arguments how my family does fight to be together; help each other... even when we, the individual, don't want the help. I know how loved I am... I hope my siblings and parents know how loved they are. That even in our disagreements, our silences, and in our periods of absence we still love and support other.

Sometimes, I wish 차계림had a mirror to which she could see how happy I am... how supported I am... how her hope for me came true. 

나는 행복하다, 어머니! 

나는잘있다,어머니! 

어머님,당신은 불 수 있는?

Birthmother: clarification apparently needed

Well, I think my last blog caused quite a splash... apparently, I'm whining or something... I guess I need to make the purpose of this blog clear....

Yes, I am adopted, no, I don't think of it as any hinderance... I think of it as something that happened as if someone were born into a family... I was brought into a family. I'm not begrudging of this fact or happenstance...it's something that happened, and if you want my personal opinion and not academic opinion, this was a gift given to me by God since He knew my birthmother could not take care of me (there are multiple reasons why she could not, if you want the full list, please feel free to email me).

As of now, I'm studying the idea/concept of adoption through the lens of adoptees...specifically Korean American Adoptees... and the way I do this is through literature: first-hand accounts of the adoptee him or herself. See, when I was younger, I wanted to know about other people like me...who were adopted...and could not help but notice they were different thought of their situation. Perhaps this is a little narcissistic of me... all I know is that I wanted to see what other people in my particular situation thought of their situation as well. While growing up, I was told I was special, chosen since I was adopted, now that I discuss my experience, I am shocked to hear people telling me to quit whining and that I should cease discussing aspects of the international adoption phenomena since it's something that just "Happens" and my pointing it out would do something to defeat the purpose of "norming" the situation of international adoption.

Personally, I believe that if the Native American and African American community can protest the idea of interracial adoption on the basis that it's "Cultural Genocide"* or that some of fellow International Adoptees can protest the idea of International Adoption on the basis of "International Kidnapping" or "Western Imperialism,"* surely I can put in my own ideas of Interracial and International adoption with a positive attitude, light, and reveal how I personally feel about my own situation, which is not bad at all... actually, if you ask me personally, I say that I have a very good life and am very blessed.
     *(This has actually happened... I have textual proof of both of these)

With this said, I will now clarify some of the things I was trying to say in my last post. First I will list them and then if you need further information, you're more than welcome to ask for it:

1) Never did I say that the Birthmother would impose herself on the child she gave up. What I said is that there are well-meaning people surrounding both the birthmother and adoptee, who may unintentionally force something, a relationship or "reunion," that one or both parties may not want at that particular point in time in their lives.

2) When I said "real," I meant the mother relationship as identified by the adoptee. If I were to meet my birthmother, I would call her Mother, but to me, she would not be my "Mommy." In other words, due to my situation, my birthmother never had a chance to give any parenting to me, and therefore, she does not hold title of mother... perhaps this would change over time if I were to meet her, but I since I have not experienced her as a mother figure, I cannot say that she is a tangible mothering type to me...other than the fact she gave birth to me. This may sound harsh, but I'm putting this in as simplistic terms as possible.

3) Never did I say that this is every adoptee's perspective. This is my perspective, my lens, and how I am processing information that I have recieved. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. I just happen to post mine on a blog, that I thought some would be interested to read since people keep asking me what I think. I am posting MY thoughts... MY feelings... not everyone's view. If you all would like to see how other adoptees feel about their situation, I'd be more than happy to give you their works, and see how their particular views compare to mine.

4) I do not judge my birthmother; I highly respect her, despite my seemingly curt summaries/explanations of my relationship with her is now. What I am judging are people who believe they are acting in the best interest of the birthmother and adoptee, and forcing or contriving a reunion with the two. What I am judging are people who tell the birthmother or adoptee how to feel or what they are feeling. I've had this happen to me, and the result was not pretty... it ended in 3 years of therapy... which I admit, could have been worse, but I digress.

I love my family. I love my friends. I love my life. This blog is meant to process my own thoughts as an adoptee, not to judge. As with most blogs, what you can read is my opinion, not absolute fact. You're more than welcome to disagree with me, but I ask that you refrain from telling me how to feel; it's something I've been combating since the preacher told me to stop inquiring about my birthmother because it was hurting my parents' feelings and revealing the fact I was not a grateful child.  Thank you.

Birthmother: One adoptee's perspective

Birthmother: (noun) the biological carrier for a child through the gestation period; one half of the genetic donor towards a whole human being.

During my life as an adoptee, I realize that much attention has been paid to the birthmother. There are several reasons for this: the main one being she chooses to carry the child to term, bond with the being in her uterus, only to part ways with him/her once he/she is born or later on, as it is in a lot of cases. And the birth or biological father? Well, even though he may be emotionally attached to the child, no offense, stereotypically, the biological father "donates" his genes and then goes on his merry way either choosing to ignore his donation completely, or in some cases (like mine), not know about the child at all. I'm sure in many ways I shaft my biological father in the sense that I call him 'Bo-bo the sperm donor' despite the fact he is ignorant of my existence. But I'm getting off topic.

Apparently the subject of birthmother has become a hot topic, and as I attempted to nap today, I kept thinking about the entire issue/subject. During my readings of other adoptees, there is much emphasis placed on the birthmother; finding her, hoping to get missing "pieces" from seeing and interacting with her. Oddly, in my adult life, I've never considered meeting my birthmother as putting together a missing piece. As a child, I fantasized about her merely because I was the only one who was Asian within a 100 mile radius (I'm sure I'm exaggerating here, but as a child, 100 miles was hard to imagine). The idea of meeting another human who had black hair, almond shaped eyes, and fair skin was something of a dream. Everyone around me was blonde, brunette, or even red-headed. They had blue eyes or hazel eyes. Heck, all I really wanted was for someone, anyone to look like me!

The cornerstone of my birthmother memories was when a religious authority figure found out I was seriously inquiring about my birthmother. His way of dealing with it? Pulling me out of Sunday School to tell me that I was making my mother feel sad and unloved by asking about my "other" mother. And that in order to show my parents I was "grateful," I shouldn't mention it again. I never did. I kept it to myself. When I mentioned this encounter with my mom, she was upset because she never said anything to that particular person, nor did my father. She couldn't believe that the authority figure had said anything to me at all.

Perhaps it was this encounter with the religious authority figure that kept me from talking about my birthmother. Maybe I lost interest because I wanted to "fit in" and be a "real" American by everyone's standards, including my own. Either way, I stopped thinking about my birthmother because, in my mind, she was happy and I was happy. I thought any search for her now would disrupt her life and the life of the children she probably had.

The first time I went "back" to Korea, (I use the term "back" only technically since I was born there, but for me it was the first time I remembered it), I just wanted to see copious crowds of people that looked like me; what it felt like to blend in for once instead of looking like an easy "What doesn't belong in this picture" Highlights magazine game (which by the way, I hate those types of children's games now). I was told, "this is your homeland." In some ways, those who told me that were right. I was born there, I gestated there. But, I didn't grow up there. My family was in the States.

See, this is what I don't get about the adoptees and other people who insist the "real" mother is the biological mother. Personally, I believe these adoptees and other people have a poor idea of what adoption really is in an ideal situation. I don't know their situations, and I'm not here to judge them. What I am here to say is that from my perspective "real" is in how you define the term. "Real" to me is something tangible, you can touch it, you've experienced it. Sadly and humorously enough, I've almost decked a guy twice my size in church because of his blatant and substantial ignorance of my idea of "real" no matter how I attempted to explain it to him. To him, and others I have encountered, my real mother should be my biological mother...as if blood always took precedence. I'm here to tell you, blood doesn't mean a darn thing sometimes.

In a situation with adoptees, there is no black and white. Every experience is different. For me, blood doesn't mean a darn thing. Though I am grateful to my birthmother for life and selflessly giving me up, she is not my "real" mother. My "real" mother sat by my hospital bedside as I lay in ice in the doctor's last-ditch effort to get my fever down; my real mother kept a fever-induced hallucinating me from jumping out of a moving car I thought was on fire; my real mother sat with me and talked about my sorrow from breaking up with a boyfriend, my real mother taught me how to make cookies, laughed with me, cried with me, held me, and kissed my boo-boos. My real mother disciplined me when I was screwing up big time and needed to be straightened out (which, by the way, happened way more than either of us really like to remember).

This isn't to say that my birthmother wouldn't have done the same thing had she kept me. The difference is, my birthmother could not do those things. She was economically, physically, emotionally, and mentally unable to do these things for me. This is why she gave me away. This one choice alone is why I have a tie to my birthmother: the one selfless act on her part that would change both of our lives forever.

There are those adoptees who will scream: "But I didn't have a choice!" Well, do biological children have a choice when their biological mothers selflessly decide to let them gestate, then keep them and take them home, thereby changing both their lives forever? Does anyone really have a choice in where they are born, what situations they get themselves into? Some would argue yes, but I would say no. Instead, we only get to control how we feel and how we will react in these situations. Some would argue with me, but hear me out.

When I went to Korea for a second time, I decided to call the adoption agency and ask to see my medical records. After all, with my childhood illness, I thought I'd play it safe and try to learn biological family history for my future children. Though I made it very, very clear that I wanted only my medical records, within a week's time, I was informed by a welfare agent that she had found my birthmother and that a meeting was being set up. Did I have control over this situation? No. Did I try to? Yes, I had dictated very clearly I wanted only my records, not my birthmother. I'm sure there are many adoptees out there screaming, "I would kill to be in your shoes!" I heard their voices in the tone the welfare agent took with me when she asked why I didn't want to meet my birthmother.

In all honesty, I didn't want another mother. I had all the mothers I needed: my mom, my sister, and my host mom. That's three mothers, why did I need a fourth? I think that's something any birthmother needs to realize and understand about their birth child if they ever want to re-unite with them. Perhaps they want to see and hug their biological child, but no one can change the past. No one can truly make up for lost time. The selfless act has already been done, and there's no turning back. The child has all the mother(s) he/she needs. But keep in mind, if this is the case, you chose to do the right thing. The child had the mother(s) he/she needed or wanted and doesn't need another. I think that's something many of the adoptees I've read have the most issues: their mother. They want to find a mother replacement and see that in their birthmothers. Those who don't need another mother, have peace and have no reason to seek a mother replacement.

Now, this isn't to say that if I were to meet my birthmother, I wouldn't be friends with her, or not want her to be proud of me. As it turns out, I think the welfare agent wanted us to meet and guilted my birthmother into meeting me; I in turn felt guilted into meeting her. In the end, the "reunion" was stopped by my biological Aunt, who deemed my birthmother "unfit" to travel. I have to say that after 5 or so years and 3 years of therapy later, I now am grateful to my biological Aunt from keeping the reunion from happening. Sure I felt abandoned again... as I remember telling my brother, I went to therapy because I didn't meet my biological mother. But now, I realize I misspoke. I went to therapy because it was all forced by an outsider. Perhaps my birthmother did want to meet, but I wasn't ready for it.... and yet, I said "yes" because I felt it expected of me. The end result for me? Therapy. After all, who wants a reunion in which both or one party feels forced to be there? Remember how disastrous your last family gathering went when everyone or someone felt like they "had" to be there? And we all know that families (tied by genetics or not) will oftentimes send people to therapy (joke by the way).

One day, I hope to meet my birth mother on our terms; not some media-frenzied welfare agent looking for a so-called "happy ending." At the same time, I don't want to meet my birth mother if she doesn't want to meet me. After all, who would force someone they have a complicated, special tie to, to meet them? In this case, I would say it would be similar to a hostage situation in which one of the people would have a case of "fight or flight" syndrome.

Needless to say, the connect between birthmother and child is complex. Though the birthmother is not the "real" mother, there is that selfless act which binds them; not blood. Any outsider looking into the situation really needs to do so without interfering. After all, I'm sure the welfare agent had good intentions, but missing out on what she thought to be her one and only chance to see her only child could not have been good for my birthmother's psyche. Nor was it healthy for me to make a life-altering decision based on being pressured by a total stranger.

In the end, there isn't a right or wrong answer. I don't really know how to end this...perhaps there isn't an ending. I think I like it without an ending... because there is no ending. There's a decision that leads to another one and another; just a beginning to a beginning to a beginning.

Marriage...

Marriage... two shall become one... blah blah, etc. Don't get me wrong, I love being married. I don't regret one thing about marrying my husband... hehe, yeah I realize it's only been a month and I should give it time, but I already know I don't regret it.

While many children were dreaming of their wedding, I dreamt about the groom. I never just said that he was "Mr. Right" or "Mr. Perfect." His face was always changing... as was his personality, height, and other random things...including race.

In all honesty, when I was younger, I always thought of the groom as white. Never did I really consider anything else... I mean, at some point in time, every girl dreams of having someone who looks similar to her father. Growing up in a white family, the color issue was never an "issue," it was just that white was the "norm" and what was in my "bubble" of a world.

What's funny is that people took my appearance into consideration every turn I made. When I was in 5th grade, kids tried to pair me up with the only Asian boy in the class. Come to think of it, my first Asian best friend (until then, I was always the ONLY Asian at school!) was the one who did that, and I think she did it to me so people would stop doing it to her!

The question of "Do you think you'll end up with someone white or Asian?" always seemed to be a key point of interest... truth be told, when I was in Korea, I avoided white guys like the plague 'cause I kept getting the sense they all had "yellow fever" (where you are attracted to the Asian female stereotype more so than the Asian woman herself). The one white guy I did hang out with, probably had "yellow fever" but not for me, so I didn't consider it... though I did tell him that term creeped me out! I am far from the type a "yellow fever" guy would want: I can barely cook, never subservient, stubborn as hell, and will never think of any guy or girl as "my saving hero."

However, in Korea, I began to realize that, yes, an Asian guy could be a possibility. Heck, I think in college I realized that to be a possibility as with any race. Why not? I hated it when guys passed me by just because I didn't look the part of Southern girl... far be it from me to do the same to anyone else!

Before I ended up dating my now husband. I told my mom that the Southern boys in Alabama would never date me, because I didn't look like someone they could bring home to meet Dad, Mom, and the Grandparents. Mom then reminded me, "if your looks will be a problem, why would you want to date them?" Very true, Mom. Very true.

My ex-boyfriend worried about me meeting his grandfather...and I never did meet the grandfather...my ex didn't think his grandfather would like the fact I was Asian. To my ex's credit, he did say something about how he would have stood up for me...but why should he have to?

Looking back at it, I am reminded again how wonderful it is to have the husband I have. When he met me, he thought, "Cute girl." When he found out I was adopted, it didn't phase him: his cousin is adopted from Korea. His family was used to the idea of adoption, so the questions that normally came from inquiring minds had already be satiated. When they met me, they saw me... sure they noticed I was Asian, but there wasn't the odd stammering or "Where are you originally from?" I felt at home with his family... thank goodness, 'cause all 20-something of us were in one house for a week!

When I met my husband, I didn't think "white guy." I thought "sweet guy... guy who's paying attention to me WAY more than my current boyfriend... guy who's proving himself to me." Now, I'll admit, I did wonder what other people saw when they saw him and me together. I know I shouldn't, but it's natural.

I mean, put yourself in my shoes... you are walking down the street, you see an Asian couple walk by, do you look twice when you hear them speaking perfect English? Or what about the interracial couple: they could be black and white, black and asian, white and hispanic, etc., what do you think? This was something I've dealt with my entire life. I wondered what people thought of my parents and I walking around, or me and my sister, or my brother and me. But in the end, I realized something: What does it matter? I know my parents are MY parents....not a white couple showing around a foreign exchange student... that my sister is my sister....my brother is my brother!

Why should other people dictate who I end up with? So what if they assume things? You would think this would be a DUH! But it did take me a while work out in my head. The end result?

I know there will still be people who ask me if he and I met while he was stationed in Asia... I know there will be people who will stare just because they think it's odd... but I realize that people will stare in other ways too. People will stare in jealousy that a couple could be so happy together... people will stare in awe of how he looks at me with such admiration... people will smile at us because we can be goofy and laugh at each other....

People will stare at our children... People will ask questions both in their minds and out loud. I've realized though, that only we and the people we hold close will have the answers; the true answers. Since he and I already know, what's it to others? Let them stare...