We recently wrapped up our newest, and soon to be released, Adoption Dialogue on adoption language and it has (once again) brought the issue of adoption language to the forefront of my mind. I am reminded of this blog post by adoptive parent and Adoption Mosaic Guest Blogger Dawn Friedman who blogs at This Woman’s Work. She wrote this post last fall and it has stuck with me. (Read the full original post here>>) For those of you who aren’t familiar with Dawn’s family, Dawn is Madison’s adoptive mother, Pennie is Madison’s birth mother.
“It sounds like a very gloomy conversation but it wasn’t. She is very matter of fact about it all. I was just thinking about how she (Madison) says “real real mama” and how that’s supposedly “negative adoption language.” I guess in the mouth of the wrong person it could be but hearing it from my daughter, well, I know what she means.
So I wanted to write a little bit about hearing Madison use that term “real mother” or “real real mama” (emphasis hers!) and how it makes me feel. The locus for any sadness I have hearing that term is centered on her and on recognizing the challenges she has. What I told her is that everybody has a story and that if you’re adopted, your story is more complicated…”
“…In the positive adoption language paradigm, the opposite of ‘real’ mother is ‘artificial’ mother but I don’t know. I know what she means when she says ‘real real’ and I don’t think it impugns me. I’ve always said that Pennie is the noun mother and I’m the verb mother and I guess another way to say that is that Pennie is ‘real real’ because she IS the mother. I am mothering and the mothering (the act) is real but it is the act that creates the mothering. See, Pennie doesn’t have to create the mothering by doing because she IS the mother by virtue of being.
Does that make sense?
But if it’s the act of mothering that makes me mother than I don’t need to be threatened by her “real real” mother who IS mother. Because it’s not a contest; it just is. It’s what we are. There just aren’t enough words in the English language and so there are qualifiers. None of these are negative when they are said by my daughter who intimately understands the definitions of the people she loves.
Sometimes I’m amused that Madison — who hasn’t read adoption books or adoption blogs — hits on the language that adoptive parents most fear. Because when she says it, how can you deny the truth of it? She knows what she knows. She’s one smart cookie. And I’m proud to be her (legally defined) mother along with her real real mother. She is good stuff.”
A friend of mine sent me this article published in the online magazine The Root. It is definitely worth the short time it takes to read the entire article. There’s much that I agree with, and some that I don’t, but I think all of it is valuable. The author Angie Chuang writes: “Bring up race and adoption, and watch people squirm.” Are we still squirming when it comes to these conversations? Or have we advanced to a place where we are now much more comfortable talking about race and adoption? Do any of the things the author writes about surprise you? What do you think?
A couple excerpts:
Call them kidnappers. Call them good Samaritans. Call them unwitting victims to a political drama staged by the beleaguered Haitian government.
Call the 10 American missionaries under arrest for taking 33 children out of earthquake-ravaged Haiti what you will, two facts—rarely mentioned in news media accounts—are indisputable:
All of the detained members of the Idaho-based Baptist group are white.
All of the 33 children are black…
…The current-day realities of transracial adoption remain tangled in the U.S. government’s own conflicted policies about race-matching versus “colorblind” adoption, as well as constantly shifting regulations in countries such as China, the former Soviet Union and Guatemala. There are uncomfortable contradictions: Whites are chastised for their reluctance to adopt black children, but then those who do adopt black children are criticized for not being able to prepare black adoptees to face discrimination—or embrace their identities.
And the most unsettling contradiction of all: Isn’t adoption an act of love? A selfless act? Can we honestly tell the parent of an adopted child who happens to be of a different race that their bond is somehow tainted by generations of racism?
But societal attitudes about race and adoption are not borne of a single family, incident or policy. And our unwillingness to address them amid the clamor over “Haiti orphans” only stymies the real discussions Americans—whites and people of color, adoptive parents and adoptees—need to have.
To avoid them only deepens the hurt. No one wins, not the adoptive parents bruised by stares and judgments, nor of the children who must struggle with the unsolvable puzzle of who they are. Ultimately, the losers are all people of color, forced to see a measurement of their own value reflected in society’s cavalier handling of adoption and race…
February 22, 2010 at 7:09 pm · Posted by Tara · Filed under Introduction
We are honored to have Guest Blogger Huang Mei-Ling help us launch “Our Voices” a new series featuring stories from adoption community members. Visit Mei-Ling at her blog Shadow Between Two Worlds. For more information about Adoption Mosaic Bloggers click here>> The following is an excerpt from her full story. To read Mei-Ling’s full story click here>>.
Phrasebooks are pretty useful for travel dialogue. Unfortunately, they aren’t exactly loaded with dialogues meant for an adult adoptee who has returned to her birth country.
After watching my siblings tease each other in the front seat for a few minutes, I take another deep breath and try to ask another question, speaking slowly and as clearly as possible. “Women hen kuai hui jia ma?” Will we be returning home soon?
My father glances at me. I wonder what he is thinking of me so far, what he thinks of my pitiful Mandarin and my overall receptiveness while in their midst. I wonder what he thinks of me – his daughter from over twenty years ago. “Hen kuai, dui.” Soon, yes.
Fear threatens to overwhelm me and my vision blurs again, indicating that emotionally I am at my breaking point. Intellectually I know I am safe, I know I am with people who will take care of me, but being surrounded by shop signs that I cannot read, a dialect that I do not decipher and pronunciations that my mouth will not enunciate is not an encouraging feeling.
I soon discovered that once we were in their residence that communication was not as difficult in context, aided by body language. My first few days were an incredible strain because I had not expected the local dialects to be spoken so quickly. I had taken classes and done some language exchanges, so I knew Mandarin would be spoken at a much faster pace than what my previous experiences indicated, but it was still a shock and complete readjustment when the reality surrounded me… My dictionary – and recalling the grammar syntax I had absorbed from my textbooks – saved my life, allowing me to communicate basic needs…
In some ways, the language barrier gave some fairly comedic moments, as my siblings had to act out things. In other ways, it remained a nuisance more than anything, particularly when I could not clarify about family photos very well because of my accent. Sometimes I could ask simple questions and use body language to compensate for when my accent made my Mandarin incomprehensible, but that didn’t always mean I could understand the responses.
Perhaps what remains the biggest obstacle pertaining to this barrier is the heartache at not being able connect emotionally – not having the memories of this family, being locked out linguistically, and feeling as though any chance at rebuilding a relationship is based on my Mandarin survival skills.
But if given the chance to do it again, to step back onto the plane and return, to go through that moment of terror where I truly did not think things would be “okay”, to navigate my way as a long-lost family member, would I do it?
February 18, 2010 at 5:39 pm · Posted by Tara · Filed under Adoption Blogs
Recently we learned the identity of the Adoption Mosaic blog commenter “M” (his comments appear on posts: They Already Have a Daddy, Lets Get Real, and Brick by Brick). Among other things, “M” created a learning experience for us at the Adoption Mosaic Blog. We learned that we needed to add a guideline for posting, that preserving a safe space for bloggers and commenters to contribute had to be our number one priority, and we learned (yes we’re a bit slow) that there is a small population of people who, hiding behind a veil of anonymity, make it their priority to attack and purposefully create discord within an on-line community.
The commenter “M” was impersonating an African-American woman. He is, in fact, a white male. He is also a transracial adoptive parent who is involved to a certain degree in the adoption world. Once identified, “M” decided he would no longer comment on the Adoption Mosaic blog. We want readers to know that his comments (or any one’s for that matter) were never censored in any way.
One of the core values at Adoption Mosaic is the goal to support and be inclusive of all members of the adoption community, not just in words, but in action. It’s a pretty rare, and undoubtedly admirable ideal, and we could talk for a while about how cool it is, but what I want to mention is how very hard it is.
It is not true of every one, however, many people in the adoption triad don’t regularly rub shoulders with other triad members. Though I count other adoptees to be some of my closest friends, with the exception of family, I hadn’t come into much contact with other triad or community members until I became involved with Adoption Mosaic almost 5 years ago.
When I say it’s hard, what I’m talking about is the subtle (and not very subtle) walls that exist between triad members. I’m talking about the dynamics between white folks and people of color. I’m talking about generational differences and how they shade respect. And I am talking about how deeply, and intensely personal, adoption is to every individual involved and how much everyone has at stake.
One only has to take a quick look at the adoption blogosphere to get an idea of what I’m talking about. In a very real way, the adoption blogosphere is a perfect microcosm (or rather macrocosm) of what I’m describing. People take sides, defenses are up, and things can get ugly. But people are also able to voice their experiences unhindered, are inspired and humbled, moved and amazed – our lives are bettered, and we learn tremendous amounts.
I often feel that not-so-invisible lines are being drawn in the sand. I have edited Adoption Mosaic’s quarterly magazine The Constellation for the past two years. I have been told, by an adoptive parent, that adoptive parents don’t feel comfortable contributing to the newsletter because they feel it is too “adoptee focused.” Often I’ve wondered the opposite, whether first/birthparents and adoptees find the newsletter to be “too adoptive parent focused.” I’ve come to realize that this is less of a reflection on The Constellation, or my editing skills, than it is an indication of how polarized we have become.
It is a poverty that one would choose not to step up because they will be sharing the stage with a different triad member. But creating a shared stage is the Adoption Mosaic way. We definitely don’t always agree and we aren’t all coming from the same place, but it is incredible how much we’ve accomplished, how much we’ve learned, and how innovative we can be precisely because we’ve all been sharing the same stage.
From Guest BloggerDawn Friedmanvisit her atwww.thiswomanswork.com, and click here>> for more information on Adoption Mosaic Bloggers.
On Saturday we had a big celebration for my son’s bar mitzvah and most of our immediate family were there including our daughter’s birth mom, Pennie. We have a very open adoption with Pennie that has grown in the last 5 and half years to something we have integrated comfortably into the rest of our family life. Pennie is not a special event or a separate experience and for our daughter that has been nothing but good.
The night before the celebration, Madison had a hard time falling asleep. She was excited about the party but she was also worried about something. I left the room to get her a drink of water and when I came back, she was sitting up in bed sobbing.
“I don’t want to share Pennie!” she cried. “I don’t want to share Roscoe!”
Roscoe is her new baby brother. Pennie gave birth about four months ago and the transition wasn’t easy for Madison. It was hard for her to understand why she was placed with us while Roscoe got to stay with Pennie. We’ve done a lot of adoption processing these past few months and the result has been a better, stronger relationship with Pennie. This has always been true as we’ve faced our adoption challenges head on.
What I’ve noticed with Madison is that the more permission we give her to claim her kinship to Pennie, the more confidence she has in her relationships with us. It might seem counter-intuitive to people who don’t know how open adoption works but when we – my husband and I – are able to model respect and acceptance for Pennie’s place in her life, the more secure she is in trusting our respect and acceptance of her.
But that night she was crying and crying and crying. She didn’t want to share Pennie with the other grown-ups. She didn’t want to share Roscoe with the other kids.
“She is MY birth mother!” she explained through her tears. “And I don’t get to see her enough! I don’t want to share her!”
So we called Pennie and Madison sobbed on the phone to her. I couldn’t hear what Pennie said but I could hear the cadence of her voice through the phone – soothing, sympathetic. You know, like a mom.
The next day, after the services and the raucous, happy party, Madison cuddled with me on the couch.
“What was your favorite part?” I asked.
“I loved the food,” she answered readily. “I loved the music. I loved seeing my friends.”
“And you loved me, right?” I teased.
“Yes,” she said. “But not as much as Pennie.”
I’m sharing this story for two reasons: One because I want people to understand that Pennie, although she is not actively day-to-day mothering, is still Madison’s mother. A central part of my motherhood is making way for that in ways that are appropriate for Madison. Because Pennie is who she is, that means giving the two of them space to build their own loving, nurturing relationship. Fostering our children’s healthy relationship to their birth families – whether they are present or not – is a vital aspect of being an adoptive parent. Figuring out how to manage this within the circumstances of our kids’ unique adoption stories is an ongoing process.
The other reason I’m sharing this story (of Madison asserting her right to love Pennie best) is to say that there are certainly times my daughter lets me know that I’m coming in second. Sometimes it’s overt and casual like this weekend. Sometimes it’s said in anger (“I wish I lived with Pennie! She wouldn’t make me clean my room!”) and sometimes it’s wistful and worried (“Mommy, would you be sad if I thought Pennie was prettier than you?”).
Here’s the thing: My daughter’s love for Pennie has nothing to do with me although its presence is part of our relationship, too. Because I have two kids, I know that you can love people totally the same and totally different. I know that love is indefinable and immeasurable. I know that “I love you” means a whole lot of things for which words are inadequate. So I think I understand how Madison can love us both as her mothers and how sometimes her immediate feelings will be stronger one way then stronger the other. That she adores me, I have no doubt. The rest (how much, how often) is details and unimportant ones at that.
It’s not a contest. I tell my own kids that all the time when they bicker over servings of dessert or privileges given to one but not the other. While they may be too young to always trust that there is enough love for everyone, I am older and wise enough to know that it’s true.
Pennie had to leave the bar mitzvah party early so she headed out into the crowd of kids to say her good-byes to Madison. Maddie’s friends were sitting cross-legged watching them hug and kiss. As Pennie straightened up and started to move toward the door and Madison turned to run back to her friends, the little girls all spontaneously applauded. They know a good thing when they see it.
I have been learning so much from this blog. I learn through the process of writing posts, from the web links and resource suggestions people send me, and from the other bloggers and people who join the conversation. But two days ago, I learned something I didn’t expect.
Livia’s post “Lets Get Real” was not specifically about race. It was about taking down the walls that impede our progress toward understanding and tolerance. However she shared that an aspect of her experience as an adoptee started her on her road towards understanding racial oppression. And she was attacked. Shut down. Her words were misconstrued, her intention was ignored, and her gut reaction was that of retreat.
I’ve seen this happen before, in educational seminars, in bars, and in gatherings of friends, by white people and people of color, but I will be honest; I’ve never been very disturbed by it. I’ve always sort of brushed it off as, “Okay, that’s the end of that conversation, oh well” and moved on without a second thought. Because I’ve long ago decided that it is not my responsibility to be the one to try to teach white people about race, and because I understand the anger that some people of color hold dear. (With friends it is different. With most white friends I welcome a conversation about race especially if it’s something they want to discuss.)
As a person of color, I will admit that I’ve had very little sympathy for white people who want to, but have trouble talking about race and racism (because though it may be difficult to talk about, it’s much harder to live with it, on a daily basis). However, what I saw happen here, with this post, is EXACTLY why many people who really want to build bridges don’t go there, or rather, stop going there. Of course it is not just up to them, it’s up to all of us. But when any of us stop going there, so many potentially progressive conversations never happen and so many walls between us remain standing strong.
This all seems very simple, but I am viewing it with new eyes. I am seeing the exact process of how these conversations end before they even begin. To take down the walls of misunderstanding or oppression that stand between different segments of the population, you have to do it brick by brick. It’s hard work. It’s going to take a long time. I’m going to go find my mallet and roll up my sleeves.
February 3, 2010 at 10:17 pm · Posted by admin · Filed under Introduction
The goal of the Adoption Mosaic blog is to create a safe space where adoption community members can voice their experience, dialogue about issues, and learn from one another.
We recognize that our diverse community won’t always agree, but feel that disagreements can be vocalized in a respectful manner. In order to ensure our blog remains a safe space for both bloggers and commenters to communicate freely, we ask that commenters follow this simple rule.
I’ve been thinking a lot about minorities and power and privilege lately. My thoughts come out of my experiences as a white adoptee.
Adoptees are in the minority in this culture. Most people are not relinquished, and get raised by at least one biological relation. Being part of this minority has enabled me to experience what it’s like to feel silenced and, oftentimes, what it’s like to be an outsider looking in at a culture that is based on blood relations, and a culture that asks me to behave as if I’ve grown up with blood relations.
Being white has enabled me to have the experience of being an insider. Though I still have far to go (and the journey will never actually be over), I’ve traveled from less to more understanding of what people of color go through in this culture. Reflecting on what I’ve learned from that particular journey so far, I realized something completely unexpected: I do understand the resistance of some non-adopted folks and adoptive parents to really listening to adult adoptees.
When those in any minority speak out and express “negative” feelings or criticism, the responses from the dominant culture and those in positions of power/privilege can often range from various forms of not listening/caring to outright attacks and attempts to silence those in the minority by casting them as “angry,” “troubled,” or “troublemakers,” etc.
Other responses by those in the dominant culture can range from feeling attacked, becoming fearful that they’re going to say or do something wrong, and/or finding subtle (and not so subtle ways) to not engage, or be an ally. If you’re in a dominant culture, it can be quite uncomfortable to have your eyes opened to a different/expanded reality. At a certain point it’s easy for discomfort to equal retreat.
And we can’t forget that people are usually taught to think of disagreement as something that’s automatically antagonistic, and discomfort as something to be avoided. Most of us aren’t taught how to respond to disagreement. Difference itself is often considered uncomfortable, and something to be silenced, ignored, made fun of, or pitied.
We need to talk about all of these “differences” and how they make us uncomfortable.
Let’s stop being afraid of talking about race, about adoption, about sexual orientation, etc. Let’s stop speaking in code, and be up front about how we feel.
Let’s commit to being honest about where we are on our journey as adoptive parents, birth/first parents, and adoptees. Let’s agree to be honest when we’re having our buttons pushed. Let’s commit to staying open and actually listen to one another.
This is an invitation to stick with the discomfort and keep going.
I published a post last night that was still in draft form (hit “publish” rather than “save”). -Yes, this is what happens at 12 am when you have been sleep deprived all week. I took it down, and will re-post it when it’s finished. In the mean time… how about another musical interlude?
This is a collaboration between Zara H. Phillips and muscian and frequent activistDMC (yes, from the very awesome band Run-DMC)
The goal of the Adoption Mosaic blog is to create a safe space where adoption community members can voice their experience, dialogue about issues, and learn from one another.
We recognize that our diverse community won't always agree, but feel that disagreements can be vocalized in a respectful manner. In order to ensure our blog remains a safe space for both bloggers and commenters to communicate freely, we ask that commenters follow this simple rule.
