Archive for Finding a Voice
September 5, 2010 at 3:31 pm · Posted by Tara · Filed under Finding a Voice, Introduction, The Adoption Constellation
“I hate this term ‘the triad’”
I don’t remember who said it, but I do remember that we all agreed. This was over 3 years ago. We were 5 women sitting around a dining room table having a board meeting, but also just talking about adoption. The term “the triad” (referring to birth parents, adoptees, and adoptive parents) seems to ignore the whole that is adoption. Extended families, adoption professionals, friends and partners are all left out of the equation as if their lives are not affected by adoption.
For convenience sake, we still use the term to refer to the three specific groups; however, the word feels pointy and divisive. The word evokes an image of three groups standing forever detached from each other. Divided. She didn’t coin the term, but it was Nina who suggested “constellation” as an alternative. Immediately it felt right to us all. Speaking it felt like second nature as we all recognized that we are indeed a part of a greater adoption constellation that reaches far beyond ourselves and our positions in the triad.
When we first imagined creating a magazine, our ambition was to create a magazine that was different than any other adoption-related magazine available. But it soon became apparent that we didn’t just want to BE different. We wanted to MAKE a difference.
One needs only to take a cursory look at the adoption blogosphere (in many ways a microcosm of the broader adoption community) to see how polarized we have become. Many constellation members tend to stay in their own corners with tenuous, if any, bridges between them. The purpose of Adoption Mosaic’s magazine The Adoption Constellation is to help build and support these bridges, with the ultimate goal of improving our adoption experiences.
As the Creative Director and Editor of The Adoption Constellation, it is my hope that each adoption constellation member will initially read our magazine because they feel, on some level, that it speaks to them. Then, by default, will be exposed to other articles and viewpoints they may not have been exposed to had they not picked up a copy of The Adoption Constellation.
A year ago, a new acquaintance of mine, an adoptive parent who has since become a respected friend and colleague, asked me “What is this adoption constellation you’ve spoken of, and how do I become a part of it? It sound’s wonderful.” It is indeed wonderful. And joyously rich and complex, and at times, heartbreakingly isolating and lonely. This mosaic of extremes, and everything in between, makes up the heart of Adoption Mosaic, and the essence of The Adoption Constellation.
The Adoption Constellation will not be for everyone. If you are looking for a magazine that portrays only one side of adoption, that speaks to only one group, and looks the other way when things get complex, then The Adoption Constellation is not for you. However it is my belief that most readers (and supporters of Adoption Mosaic) are broader minded than that, and will appreciate the diversity of the features and articles.
I’ve learned so much in the process of creating this magazine, about myself as an adopted person and other constellation members as well. I am not naive enough to think that after reading a few issues of The Adoption Constellation the adoption community will suddenly join hands and voices to sing rounds of kumbaya. But I do think readers with open hearts will walk away one step closer to understanding themselves and the experiences of other constellation members. And if I’m right, then at the end of the day, this is way better than any song.
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The first issue of The Adoption Constellation will be available free on our website www.adoptionmosaic.org this Fall. Subsequent issues are available through subscription only. More information to follow.
June 16, 2010 at 10:53 am · Posted by Tara · Filed under Adult Adoptee, Finding a Voice, Race, Transracial Adoption
Blog post written by Astrid Dabbeni
Several weeks ago, I was followed around a grocery store in the Pearl, an upscale neighborhood known to some as “Portland’s best-known art district.” At first, I didn’t realize that I was being followed on suspicion of shoplifting. Initially, I thought I was being stalked by another shopper. He followed me from aisle to aisle, watching me through display cases, at times crouching down as he crept closer. As soon as I realized that this man was an undercover security agent working for the store, I made a beeline for the check stand. After paying for my items, I went straight to customer service and asked to speak with the manager. Two managers came to talk with me and, after I explained the situation, they apologized profusely. One of the managers said I had been followed and profiled as a shoplifter because I was placing items into my reusable cloth grocery bag instead of a cart.
Knowing many people use their cloth bags to shop I was not satisfied with the explanation as to why I had been followed. When I asked whether they follow everyone who uses their own personal shopping bag, they replied, “of course not.” I had no doubt this was a case of racial profiling, so I asked the managers what it was that flagged me as a shoplifter (I was dressed to attend meetings that particular
day…not that this should matter, but as we know, it does). They had no answer for me. I couldn’t stop thinking about what this experience would have been like for someone who didn’t feel safe to ask to speak up and how easy it would have been for me to go to my car, sit in the parking lot and cry. I believe that is what made me stay and ask the manager what they were going to do to prevent something like this from happening in the future. At a loss of words, the manager asked me if I had a suggestion. I offered three:
1. Put signs up in the store asking that customers NOT use their recycled bags as carts while shopping, announcing that they may be followed and accused of shoplifting.
2. Notify staff that, if they see someone using their personal shopping bag, they should nicely offer them a cart or basket and explain that they have a new policy that customers not use their own shopping bags. They should not accuse them of shoplifting!
3. Inquire with the security officer about what it was exactly I was doing that was so suspicious it made him think I was shoplifting.
The managers agreed to all three requests -with the exception that posted signs would not say folks will be accused of shoplifting!
After telling a friend/mentor (an African-American man) of my experience, he said “Good for you for going to customer service! Where do you think you learned to feel so entitled?” Instead of answering his question I responded with “Of course I felt entitled! Entitled to be treated fairly…period! Not because I am a woman of color but because I am a good person and I don’t deserve to be treated this way!” This was the first time I have really felt the truth in what I was saying about this power dynamic.
But, to really answer his question, it took several days and a lot of thinking…where did I learn to feel so entitled?
When I was 18, and began experiencing the world apart from my parents for the first time, I learned quickly that the world outside my parent’s umbrella didn’t first see me as Astrid, but as a Latina woman. And, certainly not as one who was entitled to white privilege. With this present situation, I wonder whether my sense of entitlement is the flip side of growing up with white parents in an all-white community…of course, I am entitled to being treated fairly, and I can’t help but wonder if I got a headstart on this journey, a headstart that my non-adopted Latina sisters in the U.S. do not experience and, therefore, don’t realize they have access to.
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Update: I am excited to report that the grocery store now has posted signs at the entrances stating that customers are not to use personal shopping bags while shopping. I also have a meeting next week to talk with the store manager to discuss other ways this situation could have been handled.
May 13, 2010 at 11:56 am · Posted by Tara · Filed under Adult Adoptee, Finding a Voice, Guest Blog, Identity, International Adoption, Our Voices, Race, Transracial Adoption
From guest blogger Shelise Gieseke. We are grateful to Shelise for contributing “Twice Foreign” to Our Voices and to our blog. Click here>> for more information on Adoption Mosaic Bloggers.
Where I reside in Asian-American society, as a Korean adoptee, has been referred to as the “third space.” It is a place that hovers between who I was raised to be and who I was born to be.
I am a Korean adoptee. I was raised in rural Minnesota by white Lutherans of German and Scandinavian descent. Both my parents are generational farmers. My dad and sister have blond hair and blue eyes, as do many of my cousins and friends. I spent a good piece of my life in envy of that blond hair and, especially, those blue eyes. Even though I do not remember a time when I did not know I was adopted from Korea, I do remember a long period of time when I was raised to forget that I was from Korea; to believe that I was the same as everyone else around me, and that everyone else would treat me as if that were true. It seemed to work. . . for a while.
Being familiar with an entire community’s life stories is an advantage and disadvantage of living in a small town. It was an advantage for me because everyone knew how I came to be in my family. I could claim membership to my family with no questions asked. Small town living was a disadvantage because my family and I didn’t have to deal with my race. I could easily become “just like them,” “just a daughter,” “just a friend,” “just a sister,” “just a cousin.” Just, just, just. Even though I was very comfortable with just being “me,” I can see how my affinity for rooting for the underdog, by being moved every time we learned about civil rights in school, by not wanting to eliminate people based on their surface appearance, was me telling myself that I was more than just; I was something other.
In college, I constructed my world to resemble my childhood world. People who would say they saw me as “just” were happily welcome to be a part of my life. I craved others who would accept me as the person I was on the inside and not be guided by my physical appearance. I went on one date with an Asian man, but couldn’t do another because I was convinced I wasn’t Asian enough for him. I didn’t have Asian parents or Asian friends. The whole time we were on our date I was waiting for him to yell, “Phony!” and make me confess I wasn’t a “real” Asian. With my college friends and colleagues, my ethnicity was discussed only within the framework of comedy, as if being the only person of color in a group of white people was always hilarious. I thought this humor helped me own my ethnicity, but it only created more distance between my identity and my ethnicity. Throughout my young adult life, I carried around this sense of being lonely, even in a crowd of people. However, I couldn’t pinpoint the source of this melancholy feeling.
Later in my college career, I transferred to a much larger university. I had the opportunity to take classes specifically related to race, to explore the idea of white privilege and to understand that I no longer had access to this privilege via my family. I started to accept myself as other. However, my social circle remained very white, as I was too afraid of rejection by communities of color. I feared that the people in this community would discard me because my white upbringing made me unauthentic. I only looked like a Korean women, but I thought, talked and walked like a Caucasian.
When I first heard the term “twinkie” to describe a person who was ethnically Asian, but was culturally white (or strived to “act” white), I was so relieved to finally have a label for myself. Even though the person who was describing this term was referring to twinkie as a pejorative term, I was just so happy to learn there was a group of Asians with whom I could identify. But, I did not know where these twinkies were or how to find them. So, I remained in isolation and alone in my struggles.
Then I discovered the online adoptee community. I devoured a handful of blogs that spoke to my race and adoption experiences. I was astonished and relieved to read that other people had experienced many of the same racist encounters that I had; that the authors found it difficult to feel like a “real” member of their ethnic group. Reading these blog entries and comments was the first time I ever felt validation about my own experience as a transracial adoptee. I could read something and say, “I know!” authentically and with authority. A few years later, with help from my therapist and some new friends in the adoption community, I have fully incorporated adoption into my life experience. Where I once thought of adoption as a finite event and something I should “get over,” I now acknowledge that adoption is a lifelong experience that will always be an influence on my life. I can confidently identify as a Korean adoptee. Something I was raised to be, but something different than my birthright.
My current challenge is about authenticity and authority. Given my upbringing, do I know enough about Asian-Americans to claim membership to the group? I know a lot about the culture of rural Minnesotans, but I have never had an Asian-American role model in my everyday life. Do I have the authority to claim to a part of the Asian-American experience based on my physical appearance and the fact that I was born in an Asian country?
I think a lot about what I now believe to be my birthright and how it was taken away from me by many different forces – social, economic, political, religious and individual. Because I am aware of these forces, I am comfortable laying claim to a heritage that was afforded to me by birth, but denied me in my adoptive family. I have not been raised by Korean parents or even lived in a Korean community, but I am living out a piece of the Asian-American experience; an experience that is unique to the Asian-American community itself. Even though it is often downplayed or ignored, I am an Asian immigrant who was sent as a baby to fend for myself in a land of strangers. A land where I could not be comforted by the sound of my language or filled with food cooked by my grandmother’s hand; where I was raised to become a stranger to my own motherland.
I am part of a people that must find the balance between our white families and our needs as Asian-Americans. We have to find acceptance from our white families that we are in fact Asian-Americans and the courage to seek out other Asian-Americans for guidance and support. I am still building courage to seek what I need, but I have been given confidence by my fellow adoptees and by a welcoming Korean-American community. Their acceptance and guidance has slowly been fusing the gap between the person I was raised to be and the person I want to be. And, always, I will hover in the “third space” with my fellow adoptees. We cling to each other as we each try to find our own balance.
March 17, 2010 at 10:38 pm · Posted by Tara · Filed under Adoption Dialogues, Adoption Language, Finding a Voice
We started holding Adoption Dialogues (unscripted conversations on different topics) some time ago. It’s an fascinating and dynamic way to take a subject and dissect it from two different perspectives. The topic this time was adoption language and the dialogue was between an adoptive parent (Kelly) and an adoptee (Shelise). Following is a small snapshot from the language dialogue (to read the full dialogue click here>>).
I think this dialogue, (and this excerpt in particular), is so compelling because it shows the intricacies of adoption language, and how it can potentially create barriers to constructive communication between triad or community members. What do you think?
Shelise: I think that adoption requires a narrative outside the status quo, as to how families are made. Also, since there is usually a lot of emotions involved in the adoption process, how we talk about it can become very tricky.
Kelly: Absolutely, Shelise. Adoption requires that we talk about families in ways that we may not have familiarity or practice with. And I agree that the emotions involved make this process challenging.
Read the rest of this entry »
February 22, 2010 at 7:09 pm · Posted by Tara · Filed under Adoption Blogs, Finding a Voice, Guest Blog, International Adoption, Our Voices, Search & Reunion
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.
Read the rest of this entry »
February 2, 2010 at 12:07 am · Posted by Livia · Filed under Diversity, Finding a Voice, Race, Talking about Adoption
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.
January 6, 2010 at 8:26 pm · Posted by Tara · Filed under Adoption Blogs, Finding a Voice, Transracial Adoption
I was out to lunch with a friend of mine a couple months ago and she handed me a copy of Hip Mama magazine open to a page with a poem on it. She said “You’ve got to read this.” The poem was Black Enough by Catherine Anderson and when I read it I got chills. I immediately knew that I wanted to include it in Adoption Mosaic’s (then) upcoming newsletter -page 8.
Then I took a good look at her blog and, well…
You’ve got to read it.
Read the rest of this entry »
November 16, 2009 at 11:07 pm · Posted by Tara · Filed under Finding a Voice, Identity, Talking about Adoption
It has not always been the case, but for the last decade, being adopted has been a huge part of my identity, as well as my work. I have written articles, attended conferences, sat on boards, spoken on panels, lead adopted youth groups, volunteered, researched, studied, read, and blogged adoption.
And I have a confession to make.
In all this time, I have never had a meaningful discussion with my parents about adoption.
Read the rest of this entry »
November 3, 2009 at 3:14 pm · Posted by Tara · Filed under Finding a Voice, Introduction, Welcome
We’ve been blogging here at Adoption Mosaic since July of 2008, but we’ve never specifically spelled out our purpose- at least not publicly. Livia, Astrid and I, have spent hours in off-line conversations discussing the mission of our blog and our website. We’ve talked about it over email and conference calls, over coffee and during knitting nights, but we’ve never blogged about it until now. Read the rest of this entry »
June 1, 2009 at 12:06 pm · Posted by Livia · Filed under Adoption Professionals, Finding a Voice, Interviews
I’ve been rereading our interviews, and came across this interesting discussion with Nancy Verrier. It’s a topic I’ve been thinking about a lot lately as I try to get more comfortable discussing the complexities of the adoptive experience with friends, family, and other people I encounter. It’d be great to hear what our community thinks about this.
LM: We’ve talked a little bit about the “culture of adoption” that we have in this country, a culture that sees adoption as only a blessing. I know you’ve given talks in different countries. Are there different viewpoints elsewhere?
NV: Absolutely. In this county, if something is difficult, we just don’t want to talk about it. Certainly there are adoptive parents and adoption professionals in the U.S. that appreciate the information I share, but unfortunately there are those who respond by saying, “You make adoption sound like such a negative thing.” They don’t hear the part about how they can do something different and make it better for the children. But when I go to England, Scotland, Ireland, and Australia I find that people have a much easier time discussing this. I gave a talk to adoptive parents in Ireland and they all told me how much they believed in what I was saying and how they could see the truth of it in their kids. The adoptive parents there are much more open.
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