Finding Jane Doe

Senator Amy Klobuchar

2011-06-17T11:18:00.001-07:00

It arrived in my email this morning:

For the past four years I've had the privilege of serving Minnesota in the United States Senate. It's been an extraordinary journey filled with extraordinary moments. But above all, my service in the Senate has been defined by a simple value - putting Minnesotans first.

It's something I've worked hard to do on issue after issue, case after case. We cut through red tape so that our Minnesota National Guard members would receive the full educational benefits they deserved. I helped Minnesota families bring home dozens of adopted children who were stuck in Haiti in the aftermath of the earthquake there. We opened markets overseas for our farmers and opened up credit at home for our small businesses. And I pushed through tough reforms to protect consumers from unsafe products and contaminated food outbreaks. All of this has been about putting Minnesotans first.

But in order to carry on this fight, I first need to win a fight of my own: my battle for reelection next year. And this is a fight in which I need your help, because the stakes are high.

In case you missed it, I put the sentence that hit me in bold. After emailing Senator Klobuchar my concerns last year about her attempts to facilitate Haitian adoptions (with little to no regard for the ethics of the situation), she's still touting it. I know this is a form letter that is sent to all of her "supporters." But I am no longer a supporter, and this email isn't helping.

So I sat down to compose a response. I will print it out and mail it, a physical letter, later today.

Dear Senator Klobuchar,

First of all, I want to thank you for your service. I have long been a supporter and was thrilled when you were elected to the Senate almost five years ago. I know you are a hard-worker and care about the state of Minnesota.

Having said that, however, I am writing to you because of your continued support of Haitian adoptions. Though I had sent you an e-mail over a year ago expressing my concerns about what was happening in Haiti - children who still had parents alive being taken out of the country by unscrupulous "missionaries" - your response indicated nothing to suggest you shared that concern. More recently, I have begun receiving e-mails requesting donations for your upcoming campaign, emails which tout the Haitian adoptions as one of your accomplishments.

Senator Klobuchar, I would request that you do some research on adoption. Most adoptees across the country have no access to their history, their origins. Adoptees born here (except in a few states) do not have access to their original birth certificates. International adoptees have even less hope of connecting with biological family members. Indeed, many prospective adoptive parents (though not all) indicate they would rather adopt oversees so that the child will never be able to reunite with his or her biological family.

Knowledge of our histories, our traditions, our cultures of origin... all of this is essential to the development of a fully realized human being. And it is knowledge too often denied to adoptees. Your glib support of the Haitian adoption practice demonstrates a lack of appreciation of the issues really involved here. It is a form of cultural imperialism: rather than helping Haiti care for its children, you are facilitating the removal of those children to a foreign land where they have no relatives.

It saddens me to say that I will not be donating to your campaign this time around. And I will not be voting for you. I think you do good work and that you mean well. But unless you are willing to better educate yourself on the adoption issues, I cannot, in good conscience, support you as long as you push forward in this way.

I believe that you want to work for all Minnesotans. But you need to consider your actions and how they will affect the children, who are the ones most affected by adoption.

I expect it will have little to no impact. I don't like being a one-issue voter. And I don't expect the other party to put up anyone better. It's just maddening to me that, after all this time, there is so little awareness of the complexities of adoption, and the difficulties it can bring to the children affected.

Perhaps, if you know people from Minnesota, you could get them to write to Senator Klobuchar as well. Just a thought.

Parents Have Little Effect?

2011-04-22T04:13:00.001-07:00

I wrote about this on Over A Candle, but there was more I wanted to point out that was specifically adoption related.

The story below aired on NPR's "Morning Edition" today. It is an interview of an author who makes the argument that parents don't have much impact on their kids in the long run, so parents should just relax. Once they relax, they can have more kids. I'm being brief, but that was the gist of the argument as he presented it during the interview.

The opening paragraph of the story (below) summarizes the argument. By itself, the argument would have caught my attention, but later on he explains his reasoning. He looked at adoption studies to determine that nurture had very little to do with the sorts of interests and capacities children develop, that so much of who we are is determined by genetics.

I can't help but wonder how different people would react to that? Would most adoptees say "duh"? Would adoptive parents balk or agree? Would adoption advocates be outraged? Or would everyone look at it as a entertaining, but otherwise meaningless, claim and just shrug?

I don't know. This early in the morning, I don't even know what to do with this silliness. But it struck me even in my rather tired state. And I thought I would share. You can listen to the interview at the link below.

'Selfish Reasons' For Parents To Enjoy Having Kids:

An economics professor has a plan for raising children: have lots of them, and don't stress about nurturing their potential. Bryan Caplan, author of the book Selfish Reasons to Have More Kids, says that a child is helped the most if they are in a positive atmosphere.

. . .

There is a cheekily subversive tone in Caplan's book, but he makes a serious argument about nature versus nurture. He cites studies of identical twins who were adopted by different families — but then went on to live very similar lives — as proof that the influence a parent can have on their child is overstated.

Lull

2011-04-03T09:15:00.001-07:00

In college, whenever there was a break in the conversation (which science told us happens every seven minutes), someone would yell out "Lull!" to acknowledge it. What can I say, college was weird.

My own reunion is chugging along at a steady pace. Not much happening. My mom's side is good, still glowing from Christmas, I imagine. My dad's side recedes further and further away. I haven't heard from him since I met him last summer. And his sons and I seem to have drifted a bit.

None of that is troubling to me, and I've been focusing on other things in my life. Stuff that is mostly not adoption related, and so I have felt little impulse to post here.

On a lark a couple of months ago, I clicked on Shelly's link in the sidebar to see what she has been up to. I found out she has started another blog, about her own reunion. She decided to do that because she felt as though she hadn't been active enough here to start posting, and while I would have loved to see her here, I'm glad she's got something of her very own. Because, as I snuck in there, she has embarked on her own reunion!

Indeed, she is set to meet her biological mom tomorrow! I wish her well, and I hope it is a wonderful experience for her. If you can be supportive and encouraging, please go check out her new blog: Hi, Mom. So, what's your name?

And hopefully I will get back to posting somewhat more regularly here.

Peace.

The Narrative

2011-02-08T11:14:00.001-08:00

This morning I got up early to move my car out of the driveway so my wife could get her car out to go to work. After switching the cars around, I turned on the television. It came on to NBC and the Today show. They were discussing the case of Carlina White, a woman who had been stolen from the hospital when she was born. She had reunited with her biological family after 23 years (she had discovered the truth only when she asked her "mother" for her birth certificate).

After the initial happy reunion, Carlina has become distant from her biological family and has apparently inquired about money that her parents received in a settlement with the hospital. She has even gone back to the name she was raised with.

The Today show interviewed her biological mother. It was rather brief and perhaps superficial, though it didn't have the "gotcha" qualities you might expect on a daytime talk show. It was a difficult story to watch, sad and perhaps a bit too familiar.

As I watched, I began thinking about what others would think. How many people would connect this with adoption? Would they see the emotional ups and downs that Carlina is clearly going through as resonating with many adoptees?

I doubted it. After all, it wasn't an adoption but a kidnapping. And there are allegations that she was abused. Thus we have an easy explanation for why she is now behaving the way she is. She was raised in a bad situation, by people who didn't really love her. The popular view of adoption would suggest that if she had been raised in a loving home, things would be fine now. Thus there is no take-away for adoption in this story.

That's the narrative. That's what our society believes. We have made a concerted attempt to de-stigmatize adoption. It's not just that families formed by adoption are just as good as families formed by biology; we seem to need to believe that there are no differences between the two.

Adoptees who are troubled by aspects of their history are thus no different than other children who grew up in troubled homes. Such adoptees must have something wrong with them. Either their adoptive parents did not do right by them somehow, or something happened in utero to screw them up. Most adoptees are perfectly well-adjusted with no issues at all surrounding their adoption.

Again, that's the narrative.

That's what needs to be changed. It is not my intent to re-stigmatize adoption. It is not my intent to speak for all adoptees. Everyone's experiences are going to be unique. But there are a lot of commonalities among many adoptees. And it speaks to the complexity of adoption and the feelings it may provoke from those who experience it firsthand.

We would like adoption to be a simple good. It solves a problem of providing children with a home, and we want to believe we have done right by those children. Understanding the complexities of adoption requires challenging that simplistic view of the situation.

For the sake of all adoptees, we need to change the narrative. Not to pathologize adoptees. Not to stigmatize adoptees. Not to treat adoptive parents as somehow less worthy. But to recognize that there are issues and complexities that many (though perhaps not all) adoptees (and parents, both biological and adoptive, as well as other family members) will have to deal with.

We are arranging families. We can sugar-coat that however we like. We aren't stealing babies the way that Carlina was stolen. But we are taking a child from one family and grafting it into another. If we aren't willing to face up to the possible repercussions of that, we ought not do it at all.

It's time to change the narrative. It is well-entrenched, however, and it will take time. Still, we owe it to every child we claim to do this for.

Christmas 2010

2010-12-27T22:08:00.001-08:00

Cross-posted from Over A Candle.

Ronni and I hadn't been sure where we would spend Christmas this year. We toyed with the idea of staying home. In the end, we opted to visit my biological family in Missouri.

United Airlines, though, had other plans. Apparently, last week, Chicago had bad weather. Not bad enough to cancel flights, but enough to delay flights. We got delayed in Fargo, but our connecting flight was also delayed, so we thought we were okay. We finally got to Chicago, and waited around for our flight to Springfield. At the last minute, I got a call from United cancelling our flight and rebooking us on a later one.

So we trekked back across O'Hare to the new flight. Upon arrival, we found that the gate agent was at lunch. So we waited in line for half an hour. When she finally arrived, she informed us that we had been rebooked. For the next evening. I have never liked O'Hare, and I certainly didn't want to spend more than 24 hours in the place. So I asked if other airlines were flying to Springfield. Only American had another flight.

After lots of phone calls and being placed on hold, we managed to get a flight on American that would get us to Springfield before midnight. The gate agent told us that we couldn't retrieve our luggage, but that it would be going on the next flight to Springfield, arriving shortly before we would.

Further delays put us in Springfield after midnight on Wednesday morning. Sure enough, our luggage was nowhere to be found. The first flight on Thursday, we were assured. You can guess that it didn't happen. My luggage arrived at the end of the day on Wednesday, and Ronni's came in Thursday morning.

All of this confirms my initial opinion: I hate Chicago. If I never fly through O'Hare again, it will be too soon. I don't know why I thought this would be any different than every other time I've tried to fly through Chicago.

Still, upon arrival in Springfield, we had a very nice time. I didn't care about the luggage thing. I was just enjoying our visit. It was crazy and chaotic, and simply fun.

I woke up early Christmas morning, and sat with my brother Rick watching the tree while our mother slept on the couch. She eventually woke and we all sat talking quietly in the glow of the Christmas lights.

The stockings had been hung. Not by a chimney, but with much care. And one for everyone who was going to be there.

Soon people were up, and we chatted while waiting for Santa to pass out gifts. Ronni, Audra (Ben's wife), and my brother Chris had the arm chairs.

Rick, his girlfriend Katy, and my brother Ben were on the couch.

Other people were wandering about, in the kitchen, sitting at the table, or just grabbing seats where they could.

Gifts were opened, and Rick had given mom a wonderfully soft dragon blanket.

Of course, the star of the day, mom's new cat Pepper, had his own version of Christmas.

Naturally, no get together would be complete if Ben and I weren't hamming it up together.

Needless to say - but I'll say it anyway - a good time was had by all.

The next day, very early, we were up and flying back to Chicago on our way home to Fargo. Thankfully, Chicago seems to only take it out on me during one direction of my flights. Going home was smooth, and even our luggage arrived on time.

I missed my family in Ohio this Christmas, but we had a lovely trip to Missouri.

Gifts

2010-12-23T21:20:00.000-08:00

I am sorry for the long absence here. My life imploded in many unusual and nasty ways in the last five months. Things are getting better, slowly, and I won't go into all the details here, but they are getting better.

Earlier today, something kind of funny and cool happened, and I wanted to share it. This is the only place I really can safely share it at the moment, so I figured it was time for a post.

I am visiting my biological mom this Christmas. Despite Chicago's best efforts to prevent us, we got here very late on Tuesday night. Our luggage arrived, in stages over the last 26 hours. But we're here, and it is good. Actually, it is great. This is the least stressful Christmas I think I've ever had. It is affirming in ways that are hard to describe.

This morning, that validation took a very concrete form. My mom told one of my brothers that I had brought presents for people. His response, as she reported it later to me, was something along the lines of: "Even grandma? What do you give the bitch that made your mom give you up for adoption?"

My jaw about hit the floor. My mom thought it appropriate to share with me, my brother had the insight to see the issue, and I felt surrounded by people who had some small insight into everything I had gone through. It was amazing. And has provided me a source of chuckling ever since.

I'm the first to recognize that my mom's mom isn't really there anymore, so it's hard to be mad at her. The person who had a role in my adoption has been gone since before I met her. And I don't harbor a lot of resentment now. Still, it meant a lot to me that he would say that, that he would have some inkling of the emotional quagmire that this is.

Even before my mom told me, this has been a wonderful visit so far. That just pushed it over the top. I feel really lucky this holiday season.

Difficult Decisions

2010-11-02T23:09:00.001-07:00

I know that this is National Adoption Month and National Blog Posting Month. But I just don't have the energy to try to write two blogs every day this month. Even though I still feel ire when I hear about National Adoption Month. I just don't have that much consistent writing in me at the moment.

But I also feel guilty that I've let this blog slide so much in the last couple of months. A lot has been going on, and I have no intention of baring it all here, but it's been kind of a roller-coaster.

And it probably isn't over yet.

Tonight we made travel plans to visit my wife's family over the winter holidays. But we didn't make plans to visit my (adoptive) family, which we usually do just before or just after the trip to my in-laws. This will be only the third time I haven't made it home for the winter holidays in my 40 Christmases on the planet.

I'm doing this for me. I'm trying to assert what I need a little bit more. This isn't easy for me. My sense of responsibility and obligation to others is pretty high. I'm not trying to punish anyone in my family, and I hope that they aren't hurt by my decision. But I need this, just this one time, if no other, that I do what I need to over the holidays, rather than what I think others need me to do.

We may visit my biological family over that time period. We may not. Depends on weather, on cost, on if the schedule works for everyone. But if not, we may just spend Christmas at home with our cats. Which is also something I'd really like to do.

Whatever happens, I'm scared of the aftermath of this. I haven't yet told my parents I'm not coming. I don't know how they'll react. But I'm trying to take care of myself just this once. We'll see how it goes.

In Support of OBC Access

2010-09-22T06:38:00.001-07:00

If all the hand-wringing amounts to just that - hand-wringing - then isn't it time to give all adoptees the same access everyone else has?

The Self

2010-08-14T10:00:00.001-07:00

I try not to cross-post between here and Over A Candle too much. But because of the adoption themes inherent in this post, and because I know not everyone who reads here reads there, I thought I should share this in both places.

I have, for many years, considered getting a tattoo. I knew that, if I got one, it would have to be a rune. And because runes play so deep a part of my spirituality, I could not trust just anyone with doing the art. It would invariably have an impact on my own spiritual life. So I needed someone I could trust.

Unfortunately, I never really met anyone I got to know well enough who also did tattoos. So I sat on the impulse for over a decade.

Earlier this year, I saw an episode of Flashforward where a woman had a Japanese character tattooed on her wrist. It occurred to me then that I should get a rune tattooed on my wrist.

But I still needed someone to do it, and I needed a design. At first I thought I would have just a simple character, but I realized I should get something a bit more unique. I did look at designs online, and I found one or two I liked, but I wasn't sure I wanted the runes I was finding (including Eihwaz, the rune for defense). I liked them, but I wasn't sure.

Earlier this week, I finally decided I needed to get a rune tattooed. It was time, and I had to do it. But I still needed a design. When I began thinking about it a couple of months ago, a friend had offered her services. This is a good friend from the online adoption community I'm a part of.

I told Devon what I wanted. The rune for the Self, Mannaz, seemed the only real choice for the tattoo. I showed her a picture and told her what it meant. Then I gave her almost no direction in designing a stylized version of the rune.

Here is how Ralph Blum describes Mannaz in his work The Book of Runes, which I have used as a resource for more than twenty years. The following are the opening and closing paragraphs from Mannaz's entry (in the upright position):

The starting point is the self. Its essence is water. Only clarity, willingness to change, is effective now. A correct relationship to your self is primary, for from it flow all possible correct relationships with others and with the Divine. . . .

If you take the Rune of the Self and cut it down the middle, you will see the Rune for Joy with its mirror image. There is a subtle caution here against carelessness. The dancing acrobatic energy of balancing is called for now - the Self is required to balance the self. Nothing in excess was the second phrase written over the gateway to the temple at Delphi. The first counsel was Know thyself.

With almost no guidance, but for a few comments on early drafts, here is the final piece of artwork that Devon came up with for me.

There is a lot of meaning in this for me. The first thing I noted in her original draft was the wooden look of the various stems of the rune. It seemed natural, made of twigs, and that look really appealed to me. That is preserved in the final artwork.

More, though, on the first draft, she already had the wrapped joints. I couldn't exactly say at the time why they appealed to me, but I can now. It looks to me as though the rune is actually several parts joined together with twine. I do think that does wonderful job representing the different parts of myself, bound together, but not fully united as a single whole. My Self is made of various elements. Notice, too, that the central wrapping binds together Wunjo, Joy, with its mirror opposite, as Blum suggests in his entry. Devon didn't know this when she created the piece, but her bindings were perfect.

She then mentioned to me that she was thinking of adding roots but worried that it could be offensive in some way. It was the whole adoptees not having roots thing that she was thinking of, I believe. But I liked the idea. My Self, cobbled together as it is, still has roots. So I encouraged Devon to add them, to see what they looked like.

She added roots to both the top and the bottom, but we agreed that it was a bit too much. She took them off the top, and I knew she was on to something. A couple of changes to the proportions of the legs and the width of the rune, and you see the final product.

When she sent me the picture above, it was a text message on my phone. And I knew immediately that she had given me the design I had long wanted. It was perfect. She had gotten everything so perfectly... I was in awe. I immediately wanted to show everyone. Heck, I wanted to go out and get the tattoo that day.

But I had to wait. She needed to hook her scanner up so that she could send me a clean copy. That happened Thursday. But I was too busy with other things Thursday to go to the tattoo parlor. So Friday, I went almost as soon as it opened at noon.

I guess Friday the 13th was good day for tattoos. The parlor was packed. I went up to the counter and showed them the artwork Devon had created for me. The guy thought that going smaller would lose too much detail. But a woman behind the counter immediately took an interest and set up and appointment with me for later in the afternoon.

I left for a few hours to pass the time. I was anxious to get the work done, but I managed to wait. Barely.

When I returned to 46 & 2 Tattoo, Stephanie had me fill out some paperwork and then ushered me into her chair. We discussed how it should go on my wrist, and she convinced me that, rather than going up or down the arm, it should be sideways, so that I could look at it upright, and also show it to others.

She shaved my arm and placed the ink trace on my arm. After discussing the process, I sat down and she got to work. It didn't hurt much at all. I don't know if I have a high tolerance or if I have few nerves on the inside of my wrist, but it was an easy twenty-five minutes.

As she worked, she talked to me. She asked me if my mom knew that I was getting this today. She said that she asks everyone, no matter how old they are. I said that she didn't. Then I remembered I had mentioned it to my biological mother, so I said that, actually, she did. And then, in a fit of the weirdness that happens to me as an adoptee, I explained that I have two mothers, and one of them knew.

She then said, much to my surprise, that she was an adoptee, too.

Seriously. I mean, come on. There is a way this whole thing was unreal. She talked to me about my search and reunion. She asked me about my relationships with all my different families. She mentioned that she was from Kansas (one of two states that never sealed records) and had gotten her information five years ago, but had yet to actually search.

I knew, somehow, that this was right. In Devon, I had found the perfect person to design my tattoo. And in Stephanie, I had the perfect person to actually ink it into my skin. Sometimes, the universe will have its way with or without our planning.

I know you're probably wondering by now, so here it is...

Now I really want to take excellent care of this. I want it to look good for years to come. I think the lines are even sharper in person than in this picture, but this gives you a pretty good idea what it looks like.

I cannot stop looking at it. It's a beautiful piece. Thank you to Stephanie for doing an amazing job. And thank you especially to Devon for designing exactly what I wanted.

Confirmation and Loyalty

2010-08-11T08:16:00.000-07:00

Even while so many things seemed determined to fall apart... Okay, now I'm not owning my own agency... Let's try again...

Even while I seem so determined to torch so much of my life, this seems to be the week for validation.

Yesteday I had a long, and long overdue, talk with my best friend in the whole world. If my (biological) mom understands me so well because we are so alike, this friend understands me because she has been with me through so much. She has known me for over twenty years, and she has seen me at my worst. Repeatedly. And she is still my friend despite all of that.

We talked about a lot of things, but at one point we turned my search and reunion. I mentioned that my reunion had brought up a lot of things for me, including anger at my adoptive parents. I felt sheepish even saying it, but I was trying to explain everything to her. She immediately jumped in and said she was so glad to hear I was finally angry. She confessed that she had been angry at how my parents had failed me ever since she first met me. She seemed to think it was about time.

That took me aback. I think I had long worried that my anger was a product of my search and reunion, that that process had colored my perceptions of my childhood. Hearing from her that the problems I had come to see were really there, were evident twenty years ago, reassured me that it wasn't just that the reunion had changed my view. Rather, it allowed me to see things that had always been there. That was very therapeutic for me.

And yet, I still struggle with the loyalty piece. I still feel as though I owe my parents something. I still feel compelled to visit as often as I can manage and to be the good and happy son and adoptee. I don't want to be that, anymore. I don't think I CAN be that anymore. Somehow, I need to break that cycle. And I am working on it.

It amazes me how healing it can be to feel validated by people that know me.

Kindred Spirits

2010-08-09T22:30:00.000-07:00

I have been going through a really rocky time. I don't know what my life will look like when I come out of this. Right now, it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I'm trying to find that end, trying to find my way out.

At my wife's encouragement, I called my mom, my first mom. I was scared. So many times, I have tried to talk to people, and I have seen them run away, or dismiss me, or just fail to understand. I have faced ridicule and judgment. And I was afraid, too, that she might be disappointed in me. I'm pretty sure I could handle disappointment from almost anyone else, but not her.

But I didn't want to fall into the same patterns with her that I have with almost everyone else in my life, so I found some courage to talk openly and honestly with her.

And she was kind. And she listened. And she told me stories to make me laugh. And she gave me advice. And she understood.

It is impossible, I think, to explain just how meaningful that is to me. We are so similar, down to the mistakes we make and why we make them. Every sentence out of my mouth, it seemed, she understood because she was that way, too. To know that there is one person on the planet who gets how I think, and thinks it's normal, and who has been through it enough to be able to give me some guidance...

I don't feel okay right now. But I feel better than I have felt in a very long time. To know that she is out there, that she accepts me, that she loves me, despite everything, or maybe even because of it... It is the best thing that I could have at the moment.

I like feeling special and unique. I imagine many people do. But sometimes, I just want to know that, even if I am crazy, I'm not the only one. Tonight I know that.

She said, tonight, that more she knows me, the more she knows me. And I knew what she meant. For those that need a translation... The more she learns about me, the more she sees just how alike we really are, and she can understand me more and more by thinking about herself. And it's true, for me, too. In finding her, I've found myself. I can understand myself a little better because she is here as a model. And she seems to know exactly what I need to hear to feel a little better. I don't know if I've ever had that experience in my life.

Even while my world seems to be falling apart around me, my mom seems to be a solid point for me to hang on to. And that truly is a gift. To have someone who is insane, just like me.

Louisville Protest Video

2010-08-05T06:56:00.001-07:00

One more bit from the Louisville protest a couple of weeks ago. A YouTube video from still photos (including some taken by yours truly) has been put together by the organizers. I wanted to share it with everyone who might be reading here.

Please go view, comment, and add the video to your favorites.

That's it for the moment. I'm sure that details on next year's gathering will begin trickling out soon. Until then, you should go the Adoptee Rights Deomnstration website to see how you can help.

Trust

2010-07-27T11:50:00.000-07:00

Spending time with my fellow adoptees the past few days was amazing. It's hard to know, even, how to explain it to someone else. Being around people who get it, really truly get it, is so freeing and validating. It allows me to be myself in a way that I don't often get to be.

Yet, trust issues don't go completely away. It's frustrating, really. I'm around people who have shown nothing but kindness and compassion to me for years, and I still worry that they don't like me.

I mean, I know they like me. But part of me feels foolish around everyone, and it doesn't go completely away. I worry I've said something stupid or offensive. I don't think I did, but that feeling wouldn't go completely away.

It's so hard to believe people might like me. I don't know why. Maybe because I have never felt like I could be myself, and now I worry that being myself would mean being someone others don't like. I suspect that doesn't make much sense. But for whatever reason, I struggle to believe that people like me and want me to be around.

I don't want to feel that way around other adoptees. And I did feel more comfortable around them than around nearly any other people. But moments of self-doubt did creep up now and then. They were moments of frustration in what was otherwise one of the best weekends of my life. I just want to trust people more. If anyone deserves it, it's my fellow adoptees.

The Louisville Protest

2010-07-26T18:51:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, adoptees, first mothers, and other supporters marched to support equal rights for adoptees. In case you haven't picked up on it yet, adoptees in forty-four states are not allowed access to their original birth certificates. Every year they gather at the National Conference of State Legislators for the protest. This year that meant going to Louisville.

The night before, we made signs for use in the march. Much fun was had by all.

Sunday morning, we began to march to the convention center.

There was a lot of energy and excitement as we marched.

We got to talk to a few legislators on their way into to register for the conference.

But I would be lying if I said it wasn't hot. It was. Very. Everyone was committed, but we needed breaks from marching.

We were told not to sit on the wall, though, so we took our breaks in the park across the street. The heat index was supposed to be around 110, and it felt like it. By the end of the day, we were all pretty tired. But we were happy for what we had accomplished. Literature handed out, news interviews, people talked to, and awareness raised.

The party afterwards suffered from a lousy restaurant. Extremely poor service and a failure to provide adequate space marred an otherwise wonderful day. But once we quit the restaurant, several of us hit a nearby pub and enjoyed ourselves immensely.

The only downside to the whole event, for me, was how quickly the time passed. I didn't feel like I had enough time to visit with friends. Being surrounded by these people was both empowering and comforting. It was almost like a two-day long support group with a healthy dose of activism thrown in.

I originally did not plan to go next year, as San Antonio in late July is not my cup of tea. But now I don't think I can wait any longer to see this group of people. I wish I was still there. So now I'm going to try to find a way to make it again next year.

And I look forward to the day when we don't need the demonstration anymore, and we can just plan a weekend party. But until then, I cannot imagine a better way to spend two days than protesting with my fellow adoptees.

The Day Before

2010-07-25T06:48:00.000-07:00

We left by eleven to drive to the Adoptee Rights Protest in Louisville. It looked to be nearly a five hour drive, but that still got us there by four. Plenty of time to check in and eat before the sign-making party.

Plenty of time, that is, if nothing went wrong.

Twenty minutes down the road, and the engine maintenance light came on. We pulled off at a nearby gas station, and I checked everything I could, which basically consisted of the oil level and making sure the gas cap was on correctly. But neither seemed to be the problem.

There is something so typical about this, that I wasn't even surprised. Indeed, I think I would have been more surprised if nothing had gone wrong. It seems that lately all of our trips have some kind of snafu.

This was my grandmother's car, so we called my father, hoping he would tell us that it was normal for the car and we could ignore it. But it wasn't to be. Instead, he offered to switch cars with us. He drove down to meet us, letting us take his car, as he drove the other to get it checked out. (Turns out, it was the air filter.)

So we were back on the road, and on target to get to Louisville by five. The rest of the trip went smoothly and we found the hotel without a problem.

We met other adoptees almost immediately. First it was Theresa, then Jeff. There is something so cool about meeting other like-minded people, especially ones you have such great admiration and respect for.

We were starving and thought we had enough time to eat before the sign-making party. We found an interesting looking Irish pub, and it would have been perfect if the service had been timely. As it was, we got to the party about half an hour late.

I think I colored in one sign over the course of the next two hours. It was too hard to do that and meet people face-to-face who I had known forever online. Jeni, Kara, Julie, Dory, Joy, Elizabeth, Linda, Jim, Diane, Cheerio, Amanda, Spencer... I'm sure I'm forgetting people, but it was so much fun.

At the end, there was a brief workshop for how to talk to legislators. Gaye and Jeff did a terrific job. As a student of strategic nonviolence, it was fascinating to hear others employ the principles in a real training session.

After that, there was much drink to be had. Maybe too much. Though, for me, I'm usually so shy around other people, it may have helped loosen me up a bit, so I actually managed to talk to people. (I hope not too much. And I hope I didn't say anything too stupid.) We had a blast. We had been told the hotel bar closed at ten, but I think the bartender realized how much money there was to be made and stayed open until midnight.

I wish even more of my online friends had been able to make it. There is just something so amazing about meeting some of your favorite people on the planet.

And in just over an hour, we'll be gathering to go do what we came here to do.

Green Shirts

2010-07-19T21:06:00.001-07:00

In just over four days, my wife and I will be driving to Louisville. We're going to visit my adoptive family in Ohio, but we're taking a couple of days out of our visit to go to the Adoptee Rights Demonstration. I still feel a little a residual guilt over taking time away from visiting my family, but I'm trying to ignore it. I hope they understand, but whether they do or not, I need to do this for me.

In preparation for attending the demonstration, I bought us green shirts to wear at the protest. I think this is my sixth shirt emblazoned with an Adoptee Rights message. I can't have enough.

I am really excited to meet more of my fellow adoptees face-to-face. The visit I had with several of them last winter was terrific. And getting to meet so many more, while demonstrating for adoptee rights... Well, that's just too cool.

If you want your own green shirt, you can buy one at Cafe Press: The Green Shirt (just be sure to select Kelly Green as the color).

Hope to see you in Louisville!

New Open Records Report

2010-07-16T21:16:00.000-07:00

The Evan B. Donaldson Institute released its latest study on granting adoptees access to their original birth certificates. The summary is below. You can click on the title to read the whole report.

FOR THE RECORDS II: AN EXAMINATION OF THE HISTORY AND IMPACT OF ADULT ADOPTEE ACCESS TO ORIGINAL BIRTH CERTIFICATES

Authors: Dr. Jeanne A. Howard, Susan Livingston Smith, and Georgia Deoudes.

Published: 2010 July. New York NY: Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute

For the Records II: An Examination of the History and Impact of Adult Adoptee Access to Original Birth Certificates" is based on a years-long examination of relevant judicial and legislative documents; of decades of research and other scholarly writing; and of the concrete experiences of states and countries that have either changed their laws to provide these documents or never sealed them at all.

The Institute's report suggests that, while a growing number of states have restored OBC access to adopted people once they reach the age of majority, efforts to accelerate the trend have been impeded by misunderstandings about the history of this controversial issue, misconceptions about the parties involved (especially birthmothers), and mistaken concerns about the impact of changing the status quo – e.g., legislators often assume that negative consequences will occur but, in fact, they do not.

Among the findings in the 46-page Policy Brief, which updates and expands the Institute's November 2007 report, "For the Records: Restoring a Right for Adult Adoptees," are:

Barring adopted adults from access to their OBCs wrongly denies them a right enjoyed by all others in our country, and is not in their best interests for personal and medical reasons.

Alternatives such as mutual consent registries are ineffective and do not meet adoptees' needs.

The vast majority of birthmothers don't want to be anonymous to the children they relinquished.

The recommendations in the Institute's new Policy Brief include:

Every "closed" state should unseal OBCs for all adult adoptees, retroactively and prospectively.

States that already provide limited OBC access should revise laws to include all adult adoptees.

No professional should promise women anonymity from the children they place for adoption.

Pieces of the Puzzle

2010-07-13T22:01:00.001-07:00

My wife asked me, as we drove home Saturday, if it felt good to have all the pieces of the puzzle now. Never one to answer a simple question simply, I had to clarify. I don't think I have all the pieces of the puzzle.

Meeting my father was the last step. I can't imagine what more there is. Sure, there are some extended family members to meet, but that's not what I mean. I have the pieces. I can even see how they fit together, I think.

But, for me, there will always be some serious what-ifs. They can't be answered. I can speculate. I can contemplate. But I'll never have those answers.

And I'm okay with that, I think. That doesn't mean I won't ever wonder, but I'm okay with the realization that I'll never have the complete picture of my life because of adoption. Some of those pieces are lost, gone forever.

I know there will be drama. If my adoptive dad ever finds out about meeting my biological father, he may feel hurt. If my biological father wants to have a continued relationship, that could lead to issues. But overall, I feel rather comfortable with what I know and where I am right now.

I'm sure that means something is going to go wrong now, but I'm a pessimist that way.

The short answer, then, is that I do feel like I have a kind of peace and satisfaction with my reunion as it stands. I may not have all the pieces, but I have so many more than I did when this started. And that is a good thing.

The Reunion That Almost Wasn't

2010-07-10T20:31:00.001-07:00

My biological father and I very nearly did not meet. And I was ready to throw it in. I actually still feel a little conflicted about it all.

I didn't meet him yesterday as I expected too. When I first talked to one of his sons, he explained that my father wanted to meet me alone, before meeting me with the rest of the family. So I thought we would meet and then meet with his sons for dinner.

When I finally got in to meet with him, I heard from my brother that my father was busy during the afternoon, and wanted to meet me today for breakfast. So I just met my brothers and their families yesterday. We had a good time.

My brothers explained that my father would call me this morning for breakfast.

Nine o'clock came and went, and I began to figure that he wasn't going to show up. So I went to breakfast with my mother before coming home. Just as we started to wrap breakfast up, one of my brothers called and told me that my father wanted me to call him.

I have to admit, I didn't want to. I had driven half a day to meet him. And he bailed. He refused to talk to me directly, preferring instead to go through my brothers. And now he wanted me to call him to meet. I know he was feeling guilty, ashamed. I get it. But how many hoops would I have to hop through to deal with this?

I very nearly just left. Part of me still thinks maybe I should have. But I did the least I could do. I asked my wife to call him, tell him where we were, and tell him we were leaving in twenty-five minutes. If he wanted to meet, he had that long to get there. He said he would be there in ten to fifteen minutes.

So we waited. And waited. My deadline came and went. I decided, for some reason, to give him five more minutes. He should have been there fifteen minutes earlier, and he wasn't. The last five minutes passed, and we got up to leave. We were out the door when we ran into him and the older of his sons.

We turned around and went back into the restaurant. We talked for about forty-five minutes. It was a good conversation, if not terribly deep. I'm not entirely sorry I stayed. And maybe I reassured him that I wasn't mad about something that had happened forty years ago. I don't know when I'll see him again, though he seemed open to continuing to stay in touch.

After everything, I very nearly didn't ask for a picture. But at the last possible minute, I did.

All of this happened less than twelve hours ago, and I had a long drive after that. I'm still decompressing. But I did, finally, meet my biological father.

Eve

2010-07-08T20:51:00.000-07:00

In less than 24 hours, I should be meeting my biological father and my two brothers on his side.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. And that's putting it mildly.

It feels a little like the spinning in my stomach before my first reunion three years ago. I don't know if they will like me. I don't know if I will like them.

But I will know the answers this time tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Under Pressure

2010-07-06T07:29:00.000-07:00

I've been with my biological family for the last few days. I'll be here the rest of the week. So far it has been a great deal of fun. Hanging out with my mom and my brothers seems really normal. It has been over two years since my first visit and it is as though no time has passed.

Then I start thinking. I want them all to know how much I enjoy being around them, how much I like them. How important to me it is that they have accepted me as part of the family. But I worry that I seem aloof, distant. I don't know why I'm worrying about that, but I have started doing it. I still feel awkward talking to them, sometimes. Self-conscious. And I don't know why.

I put this pressure on myself to be a perfect son and brother. Funny, friendly, and considerate. I don't know why I'm doing this. They don't appear to expect such perfection. My mind likes playing head games with me, I suppose. I am so concerned about wanting to be perfect, I fear I'm coming across as distant.

Despite that, it has been a good visit so far. I just need to learn how to relax. Not a strong suit for me.

A Week

2010-07-01T21:48:00.001-07:00

In just a few days, I will travel to visit with my biological family again. This will be the first time I've seen my mom in over a year, and the first time I've seen my brothers in over two. I'm looking forward to it.

But it is also causing some agitation. I want this to be a normal trip to visit with family. But it doesn't feel normal. Even though I desperately want it to. I'm excited, but I'm also a little apprehensive.

Of course, it doesn't help that I may finally get to meet my biological father and his sons toward the end of the week (about a week from tomorrow, to be more specific). There was supposed to be a reunion. And just after I had resolved to go and told my brothers I would be there, I was told the reunion was off. I'm not sure why, exactly. But it's off.

Still, my brothers want to meet me, and I will be in the area. And they may convince my father to meet me. And if he doesn't, I don't know what to do. Do I try to force the issue? Or do I just let it go?

We're not there yet. And I am happy I may finally get to meet someone from his side of the family. And the emails I've had from my brothers have reassured me some that they do, in fact, want to meet me.

This whole trip just seems so... bewildering. I'm not sure what to think about it, and I'm trying not to have any expectations. I just want to go and enjoy the visit. And I think I will. But that hasn't made the agitation go away.

Adoptee Identity

2010-06-07T22:30:00.001-07:00

As though it wasn't enough to be confused about my identity because of my adoption, increasingly I seemed to be confused about my identity as an adoptee. How do I fit into those who identify as adult adoptees? Am I angry? Am I calm? Am I overly-simplistic? Am I too nuanced? Am I holier-than-thou about my exceedingly clever views about adoption? Have I not thought through the issues well enough?

I'm not making sense. I know this. That's okay. This is my blog. I don't have to make sense if I don't want to.

I read so much about adoption. And I see so many adoptees speak with authority about their ways of viewing adoption. In books. In articles. On the web. Some of them I admire. Some of them seem condescending. Some of them seem confident, and some just as lost as I feel.

How I feel about adoption, about all my families, is... complicated. And I'd be the first to admit that I "deal" with a lot of that complication by minimizing its impact on my life. I live nearly a thousand miles from any relative, adopted or blood. I keep distance between myself and my families, as a result I do not have to confront and settle conflicting emotions about them.

I would never claim nurture doesn't matter. Obviously how I grew up affected me in profound ways. But I have worked so hard to forget it, going back twenty years, long before I was really willing to confront adoption issues. And it seems obvious to me that nature matters.

Growing up without other adoptees around meant that I didn't know what was "normal" for an adoptee (if there is such a thing). I had no one to talk about it with. Now, reading about how others think through the various issues, I still sometimes feel like I'm a stranger in a strange land. And the problem is, I don't know anywhere that doesn't feel like that.

The Worst That Could Happen

2010-06-02T23:11:00.001-07:00

I often find myself doing things I don't always want to do because I don't want to disappoint others. I am, in short, a people-pleaser.

And it has to stop. At least a little bit.

I beat myself up over it. I inhibit myself, which causes me to feel more isolated and alienated, which causes me to withdraw further into myself, which causes... Well, you see where this is going, I think.

The latest case in point concerns the Adoptee Rights Demonstration in Louisville at the end of July. For the last six months or so, I've been planning on going. Indeed, I thought I could arrange my summer visit with my (adoptive) family around the trip. They only live a few hours away.

As we began planning for our summer travel, however, I began to feel more and more guilty about taking a couple of days to drive to Louisville. I began to worry my parents would be upset by my shortened visit. And I thought I was being selfish in wanting to go.

Just this past weekend, I resolved to go. Of course events could conspire against me, but assuming they don't... I have been wanting to go to this gathering for almost three years. And this is my first real chance at being there.

What is the worst thing that could happen if I go? My parents are upset with me? Are they going to abandon me? Probably not. They haven't done so yet, so they aren't likely to do it now. Either they won't be upset at all, and all the guilt is just from my own internal voice. Or they will be upset. If they get so upset that they write me off (very unlikely), then I need to wonder if I really need them. If they are mildly upset, well... they are still being unreasonable.

I need to do this. For me. I need to gather with other adoptees in the fight for our rights. And I need to meet some of my good online friends. It's good for my mental health. And if I don't, I will just wind up resenting my family, which seems especially unfair since they haven't expressed, as of this writing, any distress about me taking the time to go.

All I can do is go, and hope that it doesn't upset them. And if it does, hope that they can get over it.

I know this may seem like a minor thing. For me, however, if I stick to it, it will be something of a breakthrough. I'm not used to thinking of myself.

They Won't Like Me

2010-05-19T20:44:00.000-07:00

Being friends with my biological brothers (my father's sons) on Facebook has at least one serious drawback: I'm almost certain they won't like me.

It's not that I lean politically to the left. I'm pretty sure they do, too. Maybe I lean more to the left, but I don't think it's a major obstacle. After all, they seem to be more left than much of my adoptive family, but I'm still able to maintain a relationship with them. Of course, we have decades of history to bind us together. I don't have that with my brothers. And it makes me feel on much more shaky ground.

But the real hang up, for me, is that I get the impression they are much more supportive of the military than I am. At least, I think this is true of the elder brother. And I worry that if he finds out my real views on the world, he won't want anything to do with me.

Hell, much of the time, I don't like myself. How can I expect people who seem to think some of my views are downright un-American to like me?

I think I've almost resolved to go to the reunion in July, but I don't know why. I'm not sure they really want me there.

Pious Words

2010-05-04T20:49:00.000-07:00

This is cross-posted from Over A Candle. It Is a general post from me, applicable for many contexts. It seems especially relevant to adoption, though, as I have often been told similarly uncompassionate things by people when talking about adoption issues. So I thought I should share it here, as well. I hope you all don't mind.

Last Friday I attended a service at the local synagogue. It’s a reformed Jewish community, and I followed the prayer book carefully throughout the service. At the bottom of one page, I noticed this quote from Martin Buber:

When people come to you for help, do not turn them off with pious words, saying: “Have faith and take your troubles to God!” Act instead as if there were no God, as though there were only one person in all the world who could help - only yourself.

This is one of the most profound statements of compassion I think I have ever read.

Too often I have heard someone dismissively suggest something like “God never gives us more than we can handle.” Perhaps this gives comfort to someone, but I know too many people who have suffered mightily under the weight of their lives to believe it. It sounds rather unsympathetic to my ears.

Buber believes in God, but suggests that piety is not what is called for when someone is struggling. Rather, compassion is called for. It is not our job to tell someone to feel differently because God will handle it. We should instead listen to the person, not dismiss their pain. After all, they have come to us for comfort. It would seem heartless to pass the responsibility on to God.

Fathers

2010-04-26T21:31:00.001-07:00

I'm still struggling with the invitation to go the my father's family reunion. The end of the semester has been keeping me well occupied, so I haven't actually dealt with anything. I have arranged my summer travel so that I can go if I want to.

And I do want to. I know that much about myself. I want to go. Curiosity, in the end, outweighs all the other hard feelings.

But shouldn't we talk before meeting at a large gathering? Does he really want to talk to me? I know he said (according to his son) that he doesn't mind me being there, but does he want me there?

In the end, I keep wondering, why do I have to do all the work? Why does this whole thing seem to rest on my shoulders? I get to drive eight hours, to go meet a lot of people I've never met before, to meet a man who doesn't mind if I show up.

I'm just setting myself up for disappointment and sorrow. That's how it feels. I guess I just need to get over it. Either quash my curiosity and forget the whole thing. Or I can go, lower my expectations to the point where I cannot be disappointed, and see what happens.

Two crappy options.

Adoptee Voices

2010-04-19T21:41:00.001-07:00

Today I was listening to Minnesota Public Radio, as normal, when a show came on about Russian adoptions. I knew immediately I was going to be frustrated. But I listened to part of the show anyway.

The two guests were a doctor who founded the International Adoption Clinic at the University of Minnesota and an adoptive parent who adopted three children from Russia.

Anyone notice the problem?

It amazes me that people do segments and even hour long shows on adoption and do not include adoptees.

We heard a lot about the parents' struggles and some of the ways that early childhood trauma can affect children, but no adoptee appeared to give a first-hand account of his or her experiences.

Thirty-five minutes into the show, Kerri Miller, the host, finally read a comment from an online listener that an adoptee should really be included. I had sent in a similar remark as well. Thirty-five minutes in, and it finally dawns on her that maybe adoptees should be part of the conversation. And even then it takes a listener to point it out to her.

It's not as though adoptees aren't speaking out. There are so many blogs run by adoptees. Activists working on adoptee rights. And still, otherwise competent journalists do not think to consult us about adoption.

Sometimes it feels like screaming silence to an empty room.

An Invitation

2010-04-05T21:54:00.001-07:00

About a week ago I got an invitation from my half-brother (my father's son). Apparently they are having a family reunion this summer, and he asked me to come. He assured me that our father didn't mind if I came.

Never mind that my father has yet to call me, write me, or otherwise acknowledge me.

I would like to meet my brothers at some point. But I'm not sure why I should go all that way to meet him if he won't even contact me. I have spent years trying to get some kind of reaction from him. Still nothing. But I can act the desperate son, looking for some kind of connection no matter what. Ugh.

And I don't know that a large gathering (though I don't know how large) is the best time to meet this part of my family face-to-face. That could get overwhelming.

I do want to meet both my brothers, and this might be an ideal opportunity for that. But still... There are so many conflicting thoughts and feelings running around inside me...

Sometimes I wish I had no family at all...

Subtle Digs

2010-03-08T21:57:00.001-08:00

So I called my adoptive mom yesterday. I explained how busy I had been and had lost track of time. I apologized for missing her birthday, and she seemed okay with it. Who knows if she really accepted my apology. I don't. But she seemed to.

The conversation, however, took an odd turn at one point. She began to express some hurt over being slighted by one of her other children. Apparently, they delayed going out for her birthday by a day because they attended another birthday party (or two). So because they had been with other people, they couldn't be with her.

She was clearly upset by it. And she also clearly was trying not to dwell too much on it. She couldn't help feel hurt, but she was trying not to make a big deal about it.

I expressed my understanding that you want to be with family to celebrate special occasions.

I have to say, if she picked up on my dig, she didn't let on. I appreciated the karmic symmetry of her being abandoned on her birthday after abandoning her children for two holiday seasons in a row. Whether she understood the karmic implications, however, is beyond me.

I almost said something else, something to make it more obvious, but I realized I would be drifting into the realm of cruelty. As it was, I felt a little guilty for what I had already said. But I also felt a little better for having said something.

I don't want her to be hurt. And I'm sorry her children aren't always as thoughtful as she would like them to be. But she did teach them to be like that. And I would like her to understand how we have been made to feel by her absence.

Still, I'm not interested in punishing her. Even while I appreciate the symmetry, I have compassion for her, and I'd like to see her happy.

*sigh*

There's a lot of ambivalence wrapped up in all of this for me.

Bad Son

2010-03-06T21:56:00.001-08:00

Well, my crazy life has finally caught up with me. I've barely been keeping my head above water, staying ahead of all the deadlines I face, and now I've finally managed to miss something important. Today was my (adoptive) mother's birthday. And I forgot to call her.

Is it that big of a deal? Maybe not. I don't know. I meant to call her. But today was another crazy day in the middle of a crazy year. And I lost track of this one familial obligation until it was too late. By the time I remembered, it was too late, and I was away from home with a phone whose battery had completely drained.

I think a few years ago, it would have just been a bad thing. No harm done. I quick (sincere) apology, and all would be forgotten. At least, I think so.

After the strain in our relationship over the past couple of years, I'm not so sure. And maybe I shouldn't have been five years ago. After all, in the past, she has held on to various slights and offenses. (It seems out of her character, I admit, but she's done it. She doesn't get mad; she gets hurt. And she seems to hang on to it.)

The main worry is that she might think I'm punishing her for all the things that have bothered me the past few years. But it was just an honest oversight. And I do feel badly about it.

There's nothing I can do about it now. And that, right there, is going to bother me until I can call her tomorrow and try to apologize and wish her a happy birthday a day late.

Birthdays... They always seem to get me, one way or another.

True Family

2010-02-16T22:06:00.001-08:00

I've written a couple of posts on Over A Candle about quotes from Richard Bach that have significance for me. There is a quote from Bach that seems adoption related, and that I have a changing relationship with.

The bond
that links your true family
is not one of blood, but
of respect and joy in
each other's life.
Rarely do members
of one family grow up
under the same
roof.

For the longest time, this made me think of my friends in college. They were my real family. We hadn't grown up together, but we took great joy in each other and respected each other.

I still think of my college friends, my third family, when I think of this quote.

But I also realize that, for an adoptee, this is such a layered quote. The quote works so well for people who were raised by, but didn't fit into, their biological family. For adoptees, we didn't grow up under the same roof as those people we're blood related to.

For me, I didn't fit with people I was raised with, but there was little reason to think I would: they weren't blood related. So how surprising is it that that bond was missing? And if the bond was missing between my blood relatives and me, well how surprising could that be since we didn't grow up together?

I had to go through two families before I found my true one.

Of course, I've gotten a little older. And I do find some joy with my adoptive family. And my blood family is still new, and we have connected pretty well, all things considered.

So maybe I come out ahead. And I hope so.

But with everything, I still relate better to people I am not related to, by law or by blood. Whether it be my third family, from college, or my fourth family, my wife, or my fifth family, my fellow adoptees. I often feel more myself around non-family than I do around people who are nominally family.

I think, for a long time, that seemed like a sad state of affairs. Now it just seems to be a normal part of my life, a simple observation that doesn't have to be awful. It is what it is. And I have a big family, some of whom I'm related to without relating to them all that well, and some of whom I relate to well, even though I'm not related to them.

If any of that makes any sense.

Worse than "Grateful"

2010-02-10T06:40:00.001-08:00

I hate the word "grateful." In this, I know I'm not alone. Adoptees are often told they should be grateful for being adopted. To be sure, I don't often hear the word from adoptive parents. My parents, for instance, never said anything to suggest I should be grateful to them for adopting me. Most commonly it seems to come from either other adoptees who feel an intense loyalty to their own (adoptive) parents or from people who have no immediate connection to adoption at all.

Yet, there is something worse than being told to be grateful. Sometimes adoptees feel as though they are expected to bear the weight of hopes and dreams of their adoptive parents. Frankly, every child can experience this. It's not a uniquely adoptee experience, though I do think it's even more onerous when it falls on adoptees, who already have other issues to struggle with.

There is a song that gets at this, one that has always made me feel sad...

"What a Good Boy" by Barenaked Ladies

When I was born, they looked at me and said,
"What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy."
And when you were born, they looked at you and said,
"What a good girl, what a what a smart girl, what a pretty girl."

It's hard to hear that song and not think about the expectations that children are supposed to live up to.

For some, it can be more than just doing well and being successful. It can be an expectation to save the parents from some wound or other. People sometimes have children in the hopes that they will save their marriage, or provide what's missing. That puts a kind of pressure on a child that no one should have to bear.

And when people adopt with those ideas, it seems even worse. An adoptee has already lost so much, and now to be asked to fill some hole... It just breaks my heart.

So when I heard the story of a woman adopting twins from Haiti after the death of her husband, I felt a great deal of empathy for the children. Her husband died in the collapse of the 35w bridge in Minneapolis several years ago, itself a tragedy. And now she has adopted twins from Haiti.

The comment that really struck me?

"I don't think I rescued them," Sathers, 33, said of the twins. "I feel like if anything, they've rescued me."

Think about the pressure this puts on those children. How much will they have to stuff because they do not want to disappoint their mother, who already lost so much herself, and has invested so much in them? How could they ever find the courage to express how they might feel, knowing that they are expected to fill such a gaping hole in this woman's life?

You can read the whole story, if you want: Minn. bridge collapse widow adopts Haitian twins | Minnesota Public Radio NewsQ

I feel for this woman. But I feel even more for these children from Haiti.

Birthdays

2010-02-01T21:09:00.001-08:00

Honestly, I don't think I hate my birthday. I just think I'm incredibly ambivalent about it. It's hard to explain, I guess. Who doesn't like cake, and ice cream, and presents, and being the center of attention?

Well, this adoptee, for one.

I don't know when I realized it, but at some point, probably in my teen years, I realized that everyone who wanted to celebrate my birthday had missed it. They weren't there for my actual birth. And I don't know why that bothered me, but it did. And I didn't want people making a big deal about the day because it just reminded me that I didn't know ANYONE who had been there for my birth. Except for myself, of course.

I went through different phases about this, but sometime in my mid-20s, I think I began to mellow a bit. I still didn't much care for the day, but I wouldn't hide from people who wanted to celebrate it with me. (I did do that for awhile earlier in my life.)

And when I met the woman who I would marry, she seemed to take so much joy in celebrating the day, that I couldn't resist going along with her, even while the ambivalence remained.

Now I'm in reunion. And last year, I actually got to spend my birthday with my first mom. And I was thrilled. This year, she couldn't make it. I completely understand. I didn't expect her to make it. But the ambivalence came back, a little stronger than last year. I still enjoyed dinner with my wife. And I appreciated all the well-wishes from family and friends. And I do like presents, even if I suck at accepting them.

And I know that the day won't kill me. That it's not even a horrible thing. But there is still that old habit of feeling melancholy about the day. I still feel as though, for too many years, I missed out on something. I try not to dwell on these things too much, but today, of all days, it gets harder to ignore it.

Still, as much as I still have my issues with my birthday, I'm glad I get to talk to my mom when it comes around, even if only on the phone. I don't think that will ever get old.

Discordant Notes

2010-01-31T20:16:00.001-08:00

Reading the newspaper today was a nasty experience.

First was the story of the Baptists from America getting arrested for trying to spirit Haitian children out of the devastated country. Their story is that they were trying to take the children to the Dominican Republic to set up an orphanage. From there, of course, the children would be available for adoption.

It is a disgusting display of cultural imperialism. I must say I experienced a good bit of Schadenfreude at the thought of their arrest. I suspect, somehow, they will get out of it, but I thought I would enjoy it for the moment.

Then I turned to the Life section, and I find this story...

Americans Rush to Adopt Orphaned Haitian Children:

Gage, 38, of Stanberry, Mo., said her oldest daughter texted her the phone number of the National Council for Adoption while on the school bus. The family knows that adoption can take a long time, but plans to stick it out.

'Of course the sooner, the better, but I know kind of the process,' she said.

Gage and her husband Brad had discussed adopting before, but she was moved by the devastation in Haiti. 'Really, I wanted to get on the next flight out and help these people,' she said.

And I wanted to rip my hair out. I mean, seriously? She wants to help these people? By adopting? How does that help? Donate money. That'll help. Taking children, out of the country, away from their culture, how does that help Haiti?

And the newspaper seems to see no conflict between these two stories.

And it only gets worse. As I was locating the original stories on the web, I found an update on the Americans who were arrested. Here's an excerpt from the beginning:

Baptists say they were trying to do good in Haiti:

PORT-AU-PRINCE, Haiti - Ten U.S. Baptists arrested trying to take 33 children out of earthquake-shattered Haiti say they were just trying to do the right thing, applying Christian principles to save Haitian children.

Prime Minister Max Bellerive told The Associated Press Sunday he was outraged by the group's 'illegal trafficking of children' in a country long afflicted by the scourge and by foreign meddling.

But the hard reality on the ground in this desperately poor country - especially after the catastrophic Jan. 12 quake - is that some parents openly attest to their willingness to part with their children if it will mean a better life.

It was a sentiment expressed by all but one of some 20 Haitian parents interviewed at a tent camp Sunday that teemed with children whose toys were hewn from garbage.

'Some parents I know have already given their children to foreigners,' said Adonis Helman, 44. 'I've been thinking how I will choose which one I may give - probably my youngest.'

Rather than adopting actual orphans, rather than donating financially, we have Haitian parents giving their children away to "foreigners" in order to give them a better life. Is this what we want? Is this help? Can't we find a better way?

My heart is breaking for this whole situation.

Simple Truths

2010-01-26T21:45:00.001-08:00

Sometimes I need to remind myself of some things...

* I am an adoptee. It is not the whole of my identity, but my identity is not complete without mentioning this. Being an adoptee shapes so much of who I am.

* I do not dislike adoptive parents. I just don't want there to be any more of them.

* "Everyone goes through difficulties" is both true and a poor excuse for not having empathy for people going through a rough time.

* There is no way to make up for missing 30+ years together, but that doesn't mean I can't try.

* Not everyone can understand everything, but having one person who can understand even one thing is sometimes enough.

* Everything happens for a reason, but it doesn't always happen for a GOOD reason.

Unfriending

2010-01-22T22:02:00.001-08:00

I'm still sort of in the closet. On Facebook, at least. Some of my relatives (both adoptive and first) are connected to me on Facebook, so I keep my anti-adoption stuff to a dull roar. (The sort of roar you might expect to hear from a very, very quiet church mouse.) I don't want to alienate my family. Any of them. And I don't know how they'd react to it.

So when I saw someone on my friend's list become a fan of "Adoption not Abortion" (I kid you not), I unfriended her. I wanted to just start railing. I hate, HATE the thoughtless promotion of adoption as an alternative to abortion.

But I couldn't bring myself to go on a tear. So I simply unfriended her and walked away from the whole thing. Probably not the most mature thing to do. Probably not helpful, either, as I didn't really spread any information, nor is she even likely to notice that I'm gone from her friends list. But for my own sanity, I had to get rid of that post, and the person who put it up there.

I wish I knew how to be more open about my feelings about adoption. I wish I knew how to civilly express my distaste for the practice in order to better educate people. But I don't. I hate it. And yes, it sometimes makes me feel like a phony. But I don't want to risk my familial relationships. I hope that doesn't make me too bad a person.

Compounding the tragedy in Haiti

2010-01-19T21:23:00.001-08:00

This story is indicative of the several stories I've been exposed to today...

Klobuchar seeks help for Americans poised to adopt children from Haiti:

Alarmed about the fate of hundreds of Haitian children being adopted by Americans, Sen. Amy Klobuchar is pressing federal agencies to speed up the process.

Klobuchar has written to the departments of State and Homeland Security asking that officials "expedite the adoption process so that loving American families can finally welcome their children home."

A longtime advocate of streamlining international adoption, Klobuchar, D-Minn., is asking that the departments grant "humanitarian parole" for as many as 900 Haitian children matched with American parents whose paperwork has not been completed.

"Americans poised" seems so apt a description. I have images of predators waiting to pounce. Maybe I shouldn't have such a mental picture, but I didn't write the headline.

Senator Klobuchar is a good senator. I have supported her and want to continue to do so. But it seems another example of how an otherwise perfectly reasonable person gets completely turned around when it comes to adoption. Rather than focusing on the needs of the children, the emphasis is on the adoptive family's wants.

We ought to be facilitating getting aid where it is needed most rather than how to get kids out of Haiti, away from what relatives they may still have and the culture that is their heritage.

By all means, let us by pass various waiting periods, subverting the few checks their might be on making sure the adoptions are ethical, and streamline removing children from their native land.

Some days, it seems that there is no public figure we can trust to do right by adoptees.

Honest Discussion

2010-01-18T22:12:00.001-08:00

I got an email from my (first) mom. In it, she expresses her sadness and guilt at having given me up. And because of a television show, she was reminded that the experience may not have been the greatest for me, either. And she was sad for me, too.

It caught me off guard. My (adoptive) family is not terribly open about talking about feelings. They aren't completely repressed, but we often don't talk about such things. So I'm not used to family, especially parents, opening up about something so raw.

I felt badly for her. I don't want any of my parents to feel guilty. I don't want any of them to feel badly. Indeed, that's probably why I haven't really talked to any of them about how I feel regarding adoption. While I don't like adoption, and I don't like that I was adopted, I am not angry at any of my parents. I don't think any of them have anything to feel sorry for. They all did the best they knew how to do. And they have all showed me nothing but love.

That's basically what I told her in my response.

Adoption sucks. But that's different than saying any of my parents suck. They don't. At least not in a way that makes me want them to feel badly about my adoption.

Still, I have to admit, I was glad to get the message. It helps me that I'm not the only one who feels so ambivalent about my adoption. I don't like that my mom is feeling down about things, but it would be worse if she were happy about my adoption.

This whole thing (which I know has come up before) just reminded me that I come from someone who communicates a bit more like how I wish I did. I wonder what it would have been liked to be raised in a family where emotions were more a topic of discussion.

Just another thing I'll never know the answer to.

The Very Definition of Ambivalence

2010-01-12T20:49:00.001-08:00

Sometimes I wonder how I really feel about adoption.

On the one hand, I cannot stand the very cavalier attitude that seems so prevalent in our society. People seem to think that adoption is such a good and noble thing. My experience with it, and that of many others, is that adoption is not such a good and wonderful thing.

This prevalent attitude drives me to the extreme of hating adoption. And often, I do hate adoption. With everything that I am. With everything that I've been through. Even though I don't hate my adoptive family. I just cannot stand the thought of more people suffering through the life that is adoption.

And yet... I wonder sometimes, if I really hate adoption. I certainly hate the way it is treated in the media. I hate the way it is often glamorized. I hate how adoptees' feelings are often ignored and minimized. I hate that our identities are stripped from us and replaced with falsehoods.

Is that enough to hate adoption? I don't know. I don't hate people who adopt. I don't hate people who relinquish for adoption. I sometimes have issues with their attitudes, but that isn't hate.

I don't know. I'm not interested in absolutes merely for their own sake. But I see so little straightforwardly good about adoption, and so much unacknowledged complication, that that I don't know what, if anything, could be salvaged about it. I just want to wash my hands of all of it.

But there's always the skeptical part of me that wonders if I haven't missed anything.

Surviving

2010-01-04T22:16:00.001-08:00

One of the stranger visits home is finally over. I survived.

After the bastard meet-up a week ago, it was all family, all the time. It was nice to see them all. But I won't deny that there were strange moments.

Truthfully, it was a fine visit. I have noticed, however, that the longer I'm there, the more I feel different. It's like my brain changes when I'm home. I begin thinking differently. I fall into old patterns. I feel more distant from the world. I begin shutting myself off from all my emotions.

That last one is just a return to form, but it's not ideal now that Ronni is with me. Shutting down emotionally is not conducive to maintaining a healthy relationship. But this is the habit I'm used to being in with my family. I just get to feeling like I'm walking through a fog. It's hard to think or to stay motivated.

I don't exactly know why. I mean, there are all the obvious explanations for why I was like that when I was growing up. But reverting feels so unsettling when I realize it's going on. It's not their fault, really. They never required this of me. It's just how I reacted to all the things around me.

Still, I love them. And I miss them. My sister and her kids, especially. But my youngest brother also seemed to warm up to me a bit, and that was a nice change of pace.

I'm glad I saw them all. And it was relatively drama-free, for which I'm eternally grateful. But I'm also very glad to be back home. And I feel a little guilty about that, too.

I want to spend one Christmas with my first family at some point, but I don't know how to juggle all of those people. And I know I can't just not see my adoptive family. It's a problem to which I don't see a solution yet.

For now, I'm just glad to have gotten through another visit to my family, and that it went passably well.

Bastard Meet-Up

2009-12-29T10:12:00.001-08:00

For the first time ever, I got to meet some of my adoptee friends from the online community. We got together at a restaurant in town, with a number of adoptees (and a couple of first moms) driving in. We camped out for over six hours, drinking and eating and laughing hard enough to scare other patrons into asking to be moved.

(The pictures sort of small. But it's the only way to get it to fit on this page. You can click on it to see a larger size. And more pictures.)

It's a bit nerve-wrecking to meet people you've known for years, but never met in person. My fellow bastards were different (voice, mannerisms) than I might have expected, but they were exactly like I knew them to be, if that makes any sense.

Having this group of people online has been such a life-saver over the last few years. And meeting them in person was an amazing experience. It's how I wish my (in person) support group was. That's a good group, and it is helpful, but it feels restrictive with the presence of a social worker. Meeting my fellow bastards meant being able to be myself (as much as I can be in the presence of other people).

Such a validating experience. I didn't want it to end. Saying goodbye was hard. Even though they are only a mouse-click away, I miss them. We're such different people with different lives, but adoption binds us together. The next time someone asks me if there is anything good about adoption, I just have to remember my fellow bastards. I wouldn't wish this on any of us. But I'm glad, if any of us have to go through this, we at least get to go through it together.

Family

2009-12-25T07:14:00.001-08:00

Though I'm not Christian, and haven't been for decades, I always want to be with family at this time of the year.

And I feel lucky to have so many families: my biological family, my adoptive family, my family by marriage, my friends from college, my online adoptee friends... I won't pretend there is never any angst because of having so many families, nor that there is no drama within those families.

Yet, at this time of the year, I try to focus on all the good that comes from having so many wonderful people in my life. Even when they disappoint, I still love them and want to be with them.

I hope, whatever you believe, whatever your traditions, you get to be with people you love this time of the year.

Early Christmas

2009-12-16T21:59:00.001-08:00

Tonight my first mom and I opened the gifts we sent each other while we spoke on the phone. She sent us a lot of neat things, and she really liked the dragon I sent her. It was good talking to her.

And it made me wish I could be with her and my brothers on Christmas.

I mentioned this, and she said she would like that, but she also knew I had other people who wanted to see me, and she didn't want my family to be disappointed. I understood what she meant.

And yet...

I've been playing the "don't let anyone down" game for so long that I'm not even sure what I want. If someone were to ask me where I wanted to spend the holidays, I'm not even sure what the answer is. Home? Missouri? Ohio? New York? I don't know. I just want everyone to be happy.

But that's not possible. And it's not compatible with me being happy. I don't know what I want. But I know trying to make everyone else happy is probably the best way to ensure I won't be.

I know it's important to consider other people's feelings. But I also know that it's important to take care of myself, too. I just don't know how to balance those different things.

So when it comes to spending time with people over the holidays, I don't know what I want. I just want everyone to be happy.

Finding a Voice

2009-12-14T21:27:00.001-08:00

For years, I did not know I could feel the way I do about adoption. I didn't know it was okay to be ambivalent. (This is perhaps evident in the fact that I still seem constantly to apologize for how I feel.)

Not knowing anything about the experiences of other adoptees, I thought I was weird for feeling so ambivalent about my adoption. Now I know that it is common, if not universal, to feel this way. For myself, it is incredibly validating to find out that I'm not alone.

Expressing my frustration and ambivalence about adoption has led to some pretty annoying reactions from others: why are you so angry? don't you realize other people have problems? why can't you get over it?.

I'm reminded of the different descriptions I've heard of typical male and female conversational styles. Men often (not always) try to "fix" problems. Women often (not always) are looking for empathy for their problems, not solutions. While I bristle at such stereotyping, I can't deny that it ever is true.

I'm not looking for a "solution" to my "problem" of being adopted. That ship has long sailed. Finding others who would listen to me, who could understand and empathize, was terrifically useful in giving me a measure of peace about adoption. Just having someone acknowledge my ambivalence and even anger is helpful.

It's not about fixing anything. It's not about lashing out. It's not about hurting others. It's not about getting over it.

It's about knowing I'm not alone. It's about having my feelings validated. It's about having someone empathize with me.

Not pity. Not sympathy. Empathy.

Finding a voice can be a scary thing. And it's the most important thing I can think of.

Language and Reality

2009-12-11T06:54:00.001-08:00

Less than a month ago, I posted about Positive Adoption Language. I hate to revisit the issue so soon, but it reached up and smacked me yesterday, so it's on my mind.

Listening to NPR's Talk of the Nation yesterday, I heard them discussing family reunions. Families separated by various events finding one another again after years. The story that kicked off this segment of the show was two children finding their father who had left years ago. They found him because of a newspaper story about the homeless. It was an interesting story.

Then one of the callers told his story about he and his wife relinquishing a daughter for adoption before they were married. In telling his story, he emphasized that they did NOT give her up, they made a thoughtful, considered decision to place her for adoption. He was insistent on this point, it was as though he had argued with others about the proper language and was familiar with the arguments.

I cringed as I always do. But I also stopped to think about it.

He clearly needed to think that he had done the right thing. (Everything he said about the decision to put the child up for adoption was aimed at explaining how they had done the right thing.) That was his reality. They did what they could. They did what they had thought best. They had not abandoned their child; they gave it to a loving home. He needed people to understand his reality.

And even while I cringed, I could empathize. I understood why he was adamant with his description of his actions, even while I was curious how his wife would describe the event.

While I did understand his need for the language to reflect his reality, I couldn't help but wonder about the adoptee. The fact of the matter is that for many adoptees (please note I didn't say "all"), it does feel as though we've been given up. Often, the biological parents weren't around to explain their reality. And the reality for adoptees is that we have been given up and abandoned.

I get that biological parents often can explain the adoption. They made conscious decisions or they were coerced. I believe that many (most?) did not simply walk away as though it were nothing. The "given up" language seems to paint them in a negative light and ignores the details of the situation that led to adoption.

I do not use the phrase "given up" to accuse my biological mother of anything. I don't do it to invalidate her reality.

I talk about being "given up" for adoption to explain my reality, my experiences. This is what being an adoptee has felt like. I felt given away. I felt abandoned. I don't want to pretty up the language to spare someone else's feelings, not because I want to hurt them, but because it hurts me. It does violence to my feelings, my reality. Changing the language might more accurately reflect the experiences of the relinquishing parents, but it invalidates my own feelings and experiences.

I do not mean to hurt any parent when I talk about being "given up." But please don't ask me to stuff my own feelings in order to spare someone else's. If you would ask me to empathize with the adults in my adoption situation, surely you can understand my own desire to have those adults empathize with the adoptee.

Opening Old Wounds

2009-12-08T21:56:00.001-08:00

I am an awful person.

I know this. I have no illusions about it. I do feel badly about it, but it doesn't change the initial reaction.

Yesterday, I got a Christmas card. Any other year, I'd just be mildly annoyed that I got a CHRISTMAS card from anyone. I know they mean well, and I try to ignore the really blatant religious themes. (I'm not talking about cards that say "Merry Christmas." I'm talking about cards that quote Bible verses at you.)

But this card was from my aunt. The aunt who last year was dying. The aunt whose last Christmas on Earth was last year. The aunt that was so sick, my mother had to drop everything, including her promise to me to be home for the holidays, to spend this last Christmas with her sister. The card was from that aunt. Who will apparently be around this Christmas.

Included in the card is the annual Christmas letter. The first two paragraphs of the letter extol the virtues of my mother for caring for my aunt.

All I could think was that my mother was a rotten mother for abandoning her children, AGAIN, to care for her sister during her final days... And they weren't even her final days!

I am an awful, rotten, horrible person. I know this. I wish I weren't. I wish I could just forgive, forget, and move on. And I have. Mostly. But not fully, apparently.

I should just be happy she's still alive. I should be glad that she appreciates that my mother gave up so much to help.

Instead, I read her letter as a personal attempt to convince me that my mother is a wonderful person. I know it's a form letter. I know it's the Christmas equivalent of spam, not directed at me in any way, shape or form (probably).

It just showed me how much I really still feel annoyed at my mother's decision.

And I know I should be over it.

That's how I know I'm an awful person.

Seriously?

2009-12-07T16:44:00.000-08:00

I generally do not enjoy reading my local paper's editorial page. There is a lot of tripe printed on the page. I won't bore you with all the details, but it's not just because I disagree with much of it. It's bad reasoning and ignorance. I like listening to intelligent people I disagree with. I learn from them. But what my local paper chooses to print... Well, there's not much learning there to be had.

So I suppose it's no surprise that I didn't like opening today's paper. But what really bothered me wasn't a letter from one of my fellow citizens; it was an editorial cartoon from a nationally syndicated cartoonist.

I get it. I do. I dislike the Afghanistan war. I dislike Obama's decision for the troop buildup. I get that the war is a legacy from the previous administration.

But for crying out loud, why does he have to say that the war is an adopted child?

I mean, I wouldn't be surprised to see the NCFA running a strip like this, with the shirt reading adult adoptee (given how they seem to feel about adoptees who grow up). But do we really need more imagery making adoptees seem to be the unwanted, unasked for, wild and evil children?

If it kept people from adopting, I would almost put up with it. Instead, it just perpetuates imagery that adoptees struggle with enough as it is. We get it, we aren't wanted. Could we please stop now?

It Really Does Follow Me Around

2009-12-04T23:22:00.001-08:00

We were watching the series finale of Monk tonight. By the end, my wife turned to me and said, "Adoption really seems to follow you everywhere." It's true. Even on a show that has not brought up adoption before (at least while I've been watching), it comes up when you least expect it.

So I'm sitting there, watching a fictional adoptee, talk to the man who married her mother. And I'm getting teary from listening to him tell her about the mother she will never get to know.

I mean really... this isn't even a real adoptee. But I know people this has happened to.

It wasn't the point of the show. It wasn't even a main element of the scene that it was in. But it struck so many chords, hit so many triggers...

And I sat there wondering how anyone could think this wasn't important. That knowing where we come from doesn't matter.

I can't imagine that thought process. I just can't.

Getting Caught

2009-12-02T22:04:00.001-08:00

I often talk about my mothers. Actually, I talk quite a bit about my family. I use them as all sorts of examples in class. I try not to give away any crucial information, but as with most families, mine is the source of endless amusing stories and useful anecdotes.

And so I sometimes make comments about my mom. But I also make comments about my mom. (Confusing, isn't it?) Well, last night in class, I finally got caught out. One of my students finally realized I had referred to my mother both as a fundamentalist Christian and as an English professor. (I didn't say both at the same time, but he remembered I had mentioned one earlier.)

While these are necessarily mutually exclusive, he found it odd that she was both. Of course, my mother isn't both. One of them is the fundamentalist Christian, and one is the professor.

But I didn't want to explain it. So I simply said it was complicated. But he didn't drop it right away. He asked, "do you have two mothers?" I think he thought he was joking. I said "yes," and quickly changed the subject.

I don't really care if my students know, but I didn't want the conversation to turn into a discussion about me being adopted.

Oddly enough, I had gotten caught earlier in the day, too. At a meeting, we wound up discussing a movement to outlaw divorce in California (funny story, that), I mentioned that annulment would still be allowed. Which others in the room thought was odd, pretending the marriage never really happened. I pointed out that it's especially odd when the parents have children, such as what happened in my (adoptive) parents' case. So someone asked me if that left my status in doubt. I pointed out that I was adopted, so their annulment didn't affect my status. (That was screwed up years before when the government created falsified documents regarding my identity. But I didn't mention that.)

I can't believe I was outed twice yesterday (Tuesday). Very odd. Maybe I'm getting more comfortable 'fessing up to my own status as an adoptee. Or maybe I just made the best of uncomfortable situations that my own inability to shut up landed me in.

The End of the Month

2009-12-01T21:57:00.001-08:00

National Blog Posting Month ended yesterday. I can't believe I made it the whole month on both blogs again. There were days I wasn't sure I would be able to pull it off.

I think it's harder to do this on Finding Jane Doe. This is a raw place for me. Every time I talk about adoption, I feel raw. It isn't easy to open up about this. I worry that people will think poorly of me for what I feel about this stuff. Or that... I don't know. Talking honestly about adoption feels pretty unnerving. For so long, I had to keep my feelings to myself.

So to spend an entire month talking on a blog that, while no family members read here (as far as I know), it still feels... unsafe.

Still, I think it's good for me to talk about it somewhere. So once again, I'm going to try to keep up posting regularly here.

We'll see how long it lasts.

Finding Jane Doe

2009-11-30T20:34:00.001-08:00

I don't know if I've ever explained the name of this blog. When Shelly and I came up with this, the idea was to talk about our respective searches for our mothers. We didn't know their names, so we were looking for anonymous people.

Almost as soon as we set up the blog, my search came to fruition. I haven't heard from Shelly in a while. Last time we talked, she hadn't started her search and wasn't sure when she would. I hope she will check in at some point and let me know how she is doing.

With the completion of my search, the name of the blog became less important to my posting. But the more I think about it, the more I realize how much the name is still relevant. I started off looking for my biological mother. As I got to know her, and as I got to know other adoptees, I realize how much more I have been looking for myself.

So much of adoption is focused around identity issues. Who are our biological parents? This is a secret hidden from us. More importantly, though, who are we? Are we the children of our adoptive parents? Are we the children of our biological parents? Are we anyone's children?

I have spent so much time trying to figure out who I am. Not just since I started my search, but for my entire life. I have wanted to figure out who I am. I have always felt lost.

My search did not answer these questions. If I thought that it would, I was mistaken. I don't think I believed it would, but I'm not sure. Still, it has given me more grounding than I had before. I do feel more a part of this world than I did before my reunion. It's not the answer, but it has provided some pieces of the puzzle.

I guess I am still looking for Jane Doe. I'm still trying to find myself. I think I'm in here somewhere. And I feel more optimistic about finding me than I did for the first thirty-some years of my life.

But the search didn't end with reunion. It only really just got started.

Not Just a River in Egypt

2009-11-29T21:18:00.001-08:00

In general, when talking to adoptees about their feelings regarding adoption, I try to take them at their word. In other words, if someone tells me they are fine with adoption, I don't immediately assume they are in denial. Nothing in my experience requires that all adoptees feel the same way I do to validate my own feelings.

I do understand why the "denial" charge is often bandied about. Many adoptees report feeling as though they have come out of a "fog" with respect their own attitudes about adoption. They explain their own stories with reference to their own denial. And given that the experience is common (if not ubiquitous), it is easy to think that other adoptees may be going through the same thing. And I have no doubt that some adoptees are in denial.

But I don't know someone else's heart. And even were I to suspect denial, it's not my place to share it with the person. Someone who is in denial will only dig their heels in if they are not ready to confront whatever it is. And someone who isn't in denial is just going to be turned off. So even when I do wonder, I keep my thoughts to myself.

But there is another form of "denial" in adoption. It is the tendency to deny the negatives of adoption.

Most people are willing to acknowledge, especially when confronted with cases, that there are bad outcomes in adoption. There are adoptees who are abused, neglected, and even murdered. But it seems a strong tendency to deny problems with adoption itself. These are just bad experiences, exceptions to the beauty that is adoption itself.

I suppose I understand. Parents (whether adoptive or biological) want to believe they are doing right by their children. If they believe that adoption itself is harmful, then they have to wonder about their own roles in that. Adoptees themselves do not want to be thought of as broken, damaged, or victims.

But it is the constant denial, that refrain, that keeps ringing in my ears. I don't mind the individual that looks to their own situation and sees it as a positive. But when that is generalized to all adoptions, what is being denied, by others, is my experience. In order to preserve adoption, adoptees who are angry about adoption are told that they are wrong.

That turns denial outward; it becomes a denial of the reality that many adoptees experience. And just as I don't accuse others of being in denial, I don't deny injustices and injuries that I don't experience. In other words, whether or not every adoptee experiences the injustices and injuries of adoption, that doesn't make them not real. Just because some individuals would rather believe that the world of adoption is just fine, doesn't make it so.

It's true that denial is not just a river in Egypt. And any adoptee who has ever spoken up about the problems of adoption can attest to it.

(Clearly, I have to quit reading adoption blogs that I stumble upon. At least, I have to quit reading the sunshine and rainbows blogs. I do appreciate all the positive comments on yesterday's post. I'm trying to talk myself into believing all of you, instead of the voices in my head.)

The Problem with Adoption

2009-11-28T18:42:00.001-08:00

I'm almost sure I've talked about this before, but I've seen enough comments about bitter adoptees who have turned out badly because of crummy parents that I feel the need to revisit this. I apologize if I'm just repeating myself.

I often see adoptees who complain about adoption be dismissed because they had bad experiences. They should, it seems, be quiet so they don't ruin it for the children that will have wonderful experiences if only people are allowed to adopt them.

This response seems to be an attempt to explain away adoptees' concerns and criticisms. If it's just a matter of who our parents are, if they just messed up, then it isn't adoption that's the problem. We just got lousy parents. Thus, people are free to adopt as long as they aren't "lousy."

Here's the thing, my parents weren't lousy. Were they perfect? No, of course not. But they weren't lousy, either. Some adoptees did get lousy parents, which seems to me a doubly-whammy. Because if I'm this screwed up over adoption and I didn't get lousy parents, imagine how someone who did must feel.

Am I mad at my adoptive parents? No. Am I mad at my first mom? No. But that doesn't mean that I'm okay with my adoption.

Some people seem to be willing to admit that it wasn't the fault of my adoptive parents. But then they seem to want to turn it on me. There must be something wrong with me. Lots of adopted kids turned out okay and happy, so there must just be something broken in me.

I'm presenting ideas that I've seen elsewhere on the internet, without giving direct quotations because I'm not trying to take anyone to task. I'm after an idea, here, not people.

The problem I have, with all of this, is that it strikes me as so obviously delusional. Could that many adoptees just be screwed up? Could that many have had horrible parents? The answer, it seems, has to be no.

But the real problem for me is that all of this criticism of adoptees sows doubt in my skull. Did I just get lousy parents and not realize it? If so, does that mean that's what I should be pissed off about?

That doesn't seem right. Am I just broken inside?

And there it is. The worry that I'm broken. That's something is deeply wrong with me. I don't want to be happy. Or I'm incapable of it. That no matter what my life had been like, I would be a miserable person.

Am I a miserable person? Am I not okay? Not happy? I didn't think so. But all these defenders of adoption tell me that I must be. That the problem is I'm deeply flawed.

Why should I listen to them?

Because it's the predominant voice in our society. Our society lauds adoption, views it romantically, sees it in the best possible light. When that is the message you hear day-in and day-out, you begin to doubt yourself. You can't help it. I can't help it.

So even while I have always thought there was something deeply wrong with adoption, I have always kept it to myself. I knew it would just give people one more reason to think there was something different about me. Something wrong.

And when I see people dismiss adoptees and their concerns about adoption in these ways, I feel my deepest fears about myself confirmed. What if it's true? What if I'm broken?

I lash out, sometimes vehemently, against such criticism. Not because it really angers me, but because it cuts too close to home. It touches that deepest fear and brings it to the surface. Like a cornered animal I lash out, because there is nothing left to do.

Would it be better if I could quit listening to those voices? If I could just conquer that fear and let it go? Yes, of course. But it's so hard to quit listening when the voices seem everywhere, and there seem to be so few voices to counter them.

"You're broken. You're broken. You're broken."

In the Closet

2009-11-27T21:06:00.001-08:00

Despite everything I've been through the last few years, I still don't talk about adoption much in my every day life. I can't say I don't think about it, but I often keep it to myself, even when it might be appropriate to inject it into a conversation.

I feel strongly about adoption, and about sealed records. These are things that matter to me. So why don't I talk about them more?

Maybe that question answers itself. As an adoptee, I have wanted to just fit in for so long. I don't like rocking the boat. I don't want to be considered weird or different. (I suspect this goes beyond merely my adoption, but I think it must play a part.) I was the odd one out in my (adoptive) family. And I just wanted to belong.

Bringing up adoption, and more so my feelings about it, would serve only to distinguish me, to make me stand out from the vast majority of people. So I regularly find myself holding my tongue, when all I want to do is correct misconceptions and to educated about the discrimination against adoptees.

I feel wrong about that. Yes, I blog about this stuff. Yes, I participate in activities online and in my every day life. But I keep so much of it private. And talking about it makes me feel so uncomfortable when I'm face-to-face with someone. I wish it weren't that way. I wish I could do it differently.

Maybe I'm getting better at it. But it's slow going. I do feel trapped in this facade. Trying to keep everyone comfortable and happy so that they don't have to deal with my realities. I'm thankful my wife is so supportive about these issues. I don't think I could take it if I had to keep them from her. But from so many others... I pretend to be a well-adjusted adoptee, when I often feel like anything but.

Well, that puts it wrong. I think I'm relatively well-adjusted. But I'm pretty opinionated about adoption. And I don't speak up as often as I might. Does that make me a phony? Or merely a pragmatist? What is a pragmatist but someone who is a phony with excuses?

For now, all I can do is try to educate people when it seems appropriate. And hope that I can extend my comfort of what counts as appropriate.

Being Thankful

2009-11-26T21:09:00.001-08:00

I know that adoptees bristle at being told they should be grateful for having been adopted by their adoptive family. I know that I bristle at it. We shouldn't have to be grateful for that. As a result, the word "grateful" has become something of a four-letter word around adoptees. And I don't blame them.

And yet, on this day, it's hard not think about those things that I'm thankful for. This year, despite the turmoil, I do find myself when many things to be thankful for, in addition to my wife who has always been supportive in all of this.

I'm thankful we survived the spring flood, despite all the upheaval and damage it caused.

I'm thankful I found my brothers (my biological father's sons) and that they accepted me as their brother. I'm still working on how those relationships will play out, but I'm glad that I made that contact and it continues to go well, if slowly.

I'm thankful that my relationship with my (first) mom and her sons continues to go well. I miss them. And I wish I could see them more frequently. It's been almost a year since I've seen her, and almost two since I've seen my brothers.

I'm even thankful that my relationship with my (adoptive) mother is normalizing a little. I still feel awkward around her, and sometimes still a little upset for last year, but I feel like we're finding our way to a new normal. And that's a good thing.

There are things I have to be thankful about. I don't ever want to take them for granted.

Family Traditions

2009-11-25T20:52:00.001-08:00

Last year at this time I mentioned my annual tradition of baking cookies the day before Thanksgiving. Then, I was very upset over my (adoptive) mom's decision to not be home for my holiday visit. This year, though our relationship is not exactly back to normal, making the cookies once more had the feeling of being a part of a long-standing family tradition.

I also made rugelach for my wife. She loves it, and I wanted to make something special for her. It has been part of this annual ritual for years. As usual, there are pictures on Over A Candle.

I wish there was something I could think of including in this day that would connect with my first family. I love the sugar cookies. And the rugelach is very tasty. These connect my childhood with my life now. But I would like something to bring in my first family, too.

My (first) mom has told me that she's made Christmas sugar cookies for decades. They probably aren't the same recipe as the cookies that I make (that recipe comes from my adoptive grandma, who made it up herself). Still, even though I suspect the recipes are different, I do feel like there is a bit of a connection through the sugar cookies.

It still feels good to have some tradition of my own, based on other traditions from my past. That I spend the day baking feels right, somehow. It puts me in the holiday spirit. It gives me some of the stability that I have long craved in my life.

Positive Adoption Language

2009-11-24T20:34:00.001-08:00

A blog post I stumbled upon in the last couple of days keeps poking at my brain, trying to get me to write something about it. I'm not sure what I need to say. I'm not sure I have anything to add to the debate about adoption language.

Maybe it doesn't have to be new, though. Maybe simply being another voice in the chorus will help get through to some people. Or maybe I'm just banging my head into the wall. Either way...

When I look at the typical lists of so-called "Positive Adoption Language," it just sets off so many emotional triggers.

One of the most well-known terms of PAL is "birthmother." There have been a number of very good articles written about why this term is offensive to women who have relinquished their children for adoption. (One good article on this point is "Why 'Birthmother' Means 'Breeder'" by Diane Turski.) For me, as an adoptee, I find it demeaning of my relationship with my (first) mom. She's not my "birthmother." It sounds wrong to me. And the term also doesn't help me talk about other people in my biological family. I don't have a "birthfather" (as Turski and others have pointed out). No man gave birth to me. And my brothers aren't my "birthbrothers." They weren't even born when I was born!

So why is this a "positive" term? What's positive about it? Is it just an alternative to "real mother" and "natural mother"? That's what it seems. So it's positive for adoptive parents. But it isn't positive for two-thirds of the so-called triad. So why is it the "correct" language? It's minimizing. And in the end, I find it offensive.

Similarly, when I see people claim that the correct language is "was adopted" rather than "is adopted," I want to scream. By turning my adoption into an event in the past, those who advocate such revisionist language seek to minimize the gigantic impact adoption has in my life, and the lives of other adoptees.

Also, we're not supposed to say that a child is "given up" for adoption. Rather, they were "placed for adoption." The idea is that being "given up" signifies that the child was discarded, that the child wasn't valued. But here's the thing... That's how adoptees often feel. We feel abandoned. We feel as though we've been given up.

Why is it "positive" to sugar-coat the experience of adoptees? To gloss over the pain that is too often a part of adoption? Who is it positive for? The adoption industry? I don't see the positive of this language. I see an attempt to alter reality. To deny reality. To deny the negatives of adoption.

I guess I would hope for some honesty in the way we talk about adoption. Language is important. It shapes ideas and opinions. And if we aren't willing to talk honestly about adoption, we cannot be sure we are doing right by the children that adoption is supposed to be about.

Me? I'm adoptee. I've been an adoptee most of my life. That's not going to change. I have four parents, one of whom still hasn't spoken to me. Two moms. Two dads. I only use adjectives to distinguish them when it's necessary. And I never use the "birth" adjective. If people don't like it... well... tough. This is my life, my experiences. I'm not going to listen to someone else tell me how to talk about it. Especially when their proposed language seems a denial of reality.

I think people need to ask themselves... Why do we feel such a need to pretty up the way we talk about adoption? Is it because people have a deep suspicion that there really is something wrong with adoption, and they need to bury it with language?

That would be my guess.

Holiday Guilt

2009-11-23T20:41:00.001-08:00

I know no one is perfect. I really do. And I don't expect them to be perfect. I really don't. I think I am a patient person, a forgiving person. If for no other reason then that I know I am not perfect and need the forgiveness of others.

So I don't know why it's so hard for me to get over my disappointment at my mother's absence last Christmas. It's not like I think other parents are perfect. I know my dad isn't perfect. I know my first mom isn't perfect. I know other people's parents aren't perfect. So why can't I just let this go?

I don't know. I just don't.

But in making plans to visit family over the holidays, I made a hotel reservation. In the past, we have stayed with my mother. Because of my own conflicted feelings, I thought we should stay in a hotel. Then I started feeling guilty about that.

It seems like too much a slap in the face. Granted, I have no idea if my mother is going to be home when we visit. And if she is, I don't know if she wants us to stay with her. But if she will be there, and if she asks us, I think maybe I should just say yes.

Staying in a hotel wasn't an attempt at punishing her, but I worry that she would take it that way. I don't want to make the rift between us even wider. I'm not assuming that we will stay with her, but I want to leave open the possibility for now.

I just hope it's not a mistake.

Fixing the Past

2009-11-22T17:49:00.001-08:00

So often, in discussions abut adoption, I hear people talk about adoptees "getting over it" or "wanting to undo what has already happened" or some other such nonsense.

The mistake is thinking that, because we share our stories, what we want is sympathy for our traumas. The fact is, I don't want sympathy. I don't want to fix anything that has happened, and I'm perfectly capable of "getting over" any of my traumas without sharing them with perfect strangers online.

I believe I'm not alone in saying that I don't share my story with others in order to get sympathy. As people who know me personally could attest, I have a tendency not to share my feelings in general. Certainly not to get sympathy. Why I share my story is so that others my learn from my example.

I speak out against adoption so that I might prevent other children from going through its traumas. And I share my story so that other adoptees might know that they are not alone in feeling ambivalent about their own adoption.

I appreciate those people who have supported me in my own journey, both in person and online. And I'm glad for their friendship and companionship as we all struggle with this crazy little thing called life.

But my attempts at speaking out are aimed at helping those who have not found such support, and maybe - in my idealist fantasy - to help prevent someone else from knowing what I know.

Adoptees are not whiners. We are advocates for potential future adoptees. We don't want them to go through what we have.

National Create More Lies Day

2009-11-21T20:08:00.001-08:00

Today, across this country, in various courtrooms, many children were stripped of their identity. Their identities legally changed, birth certificates amended to show them born to people to whom they are no biologically related.

Feel good stories about new families being made abound. But no one wants to talk about the families that are destroyed to make adoption possible. How do we, as a nation, celebrate the trauma of these children?

Then I remember that Columbus has a national holiday. It all makes a little more sense.

If only people would be as interested in protecting the rights of these children, maybe we could have something to celebrate. Perhaps we could all donate to the Adoptee Rights Demonstration in honor of National Adoption Day.

In fact, that's what I think I'm going to do...

This isn't much of a post. But I hate this day. A lot. And I can't think of anything else to say.

Annual Rituals

2009-11-20T20:03:00.001-08:00

This week, we made plans to visit family over the holidays. Once again, we'll be visiting my adoptive family. I'm okay with that, I think. I want to see my father. After losing his father this year, I want to be there for him.

Of course, this trip means that I'll see my mother, too. Possibly, that is. I haven't spoken to her in about a month. I honestly don't know if she will be home this holiday season or not.

To be honest, I'm not sure which I would prefer.

If she's not there, that would suck. To have her gone three years in a row from a holiday visit would seem absurd.

But if she is there, I have to wonder how it will go. In addition to making the airline reservations, I made a reservation at the hotel we stayed at last time. How will she react if we don't stay with her?

I am not trying to punish her. I'm not angry with her. I just don't feel right staying with her. And I'm worried that she will see it as a form of punishment, or revenge.

It's just that things aren't the same. I don't know that they ever were how I really saw them, but if so, they aren't that way now. And I don't know that they can ever go back. I feel the need to distance myself. I need to keep a part of me safe from the emotional turmoil that she causes in my life.

It still feels like an awful thing to say about my mother. But a year after she abandoned me, again, I still feel that way. I love her, and I want a relationship with her. But I don't know how to trust her. Not completely. Not now. Maybe not ever.

One more reason for me not to like the holidays.

Pointing out the Obvious

2009-11-19T20:59:00.001-08:00

There are some things I can't let go. When someone passes off crummy rhetoric as a competent argument, I have to point it out.

Today, in my Google alert on adoption, I received the following article, apparently from a news website focused on Northern Arizona. In it, the author links adoption to being anti-abortion. This is, as nearly any adoptee can tell you, incredibly problematic. But before we even get to the crummy adoption part, we have to wade through the crummy anti-abortion part.

Adoption is solution to abortion issue:

The first excuse given is the most common: A woman should have rights over her own body. This is probably the easiest point to argue against. If a woman has rights over her body, mothers should be allowed to drink and smoke with their children inside them.

Pregnant and non-pregnant women should be allowed to do heroin, cocaine and meth. Legalize all illicit drugs, and acquit all those guilty of attempted murder by means of fetal alcohol syndrome. To say a woman has free reign over her own body is to allow her to dissolve drug laws and mistreat an unborn baby.

There are several problems with this "reasoning." The first, and most obvious, is that it assumes something which is actually a major point of contention in the abortion debate. It assumes the fetus is a child with rights. While some pro-choice advocates have argued that this is an irrelevant point, it is clearly a controversial point that many arguments on both sides turn on. What the author has done has assumed something that must be argued for. He uses that assumption to make his case. It's called begging-the-question, and it is a well-known fallacy.

Further, he assumes that something being illegal is also immoral. But that grants the law too much (and too little) connection to morality. Many things are against the law that are not immoral. (What side of the street you drive on, for instance, is determined by the law, not morality.) Other things have been legal but are not (and never were) moral, such as slavery. The law cannot serve as moral justification. At best, the law is an attempt to codify morality. The author reverses this, suggesting that the law justifies morality.

Then there is the whole business about "illicit drugs." This is a slippery slope fallacy. Recognizing that people have the right to self-determination is not identical with allowing them to do absolutely anything with their body. There are lots of well-worn examples of the slippery slope fallacy.

That's three fallacious bits of reasoning in one argument. That would be impressive if it were intentional. As it is, it's just sad. I hate to think how little critical thinking goes on in the majority of people.

As far as that goes, I might as well have posted this on my regular blog. (Indeed, it's a nice rant along the lines of what often appears at Over a Candle.) But then he gets to the adoption part of the insanity.

But many ask: Why should a woman have to spend her life with the child? She doesn’t have to. The answer is simple: adoption.

To pregnant rape victims: My sincerest sympathies to you, and may your burdens be eased. However, a piece of advice in your suffering: Abortion does not solve rape. Adoption, however, gives another couple a chance to have a beautiful baby boy or girl.

Most of this ground has been tread by many people in many different places. I think I was struck by how flagrant an example this is of someone who is clearly ignorant about the complexity of adoption.

Somehow, it's okay to make a woman go through nine months of a pregnancy and the discomfort and dangers of childbirth because we're not going to make her spend her life with the child. Never mind the damage done to both mother and child with adoption. At least she won't have to raise the kid.

In one paragraph, we go from "sincere sympathy" for rape victims to the real motivation behind adoption: babies for other couples. No real concern for the women who were raped. No concern for mothers coerced out of their children. And absolutely no regard for the children who are stripped of their identity and put through the adoption mill.

I'm tired of being a solution for other people's problems. Adoptees, whether children or adults, are people. They are not gifts. They are not solutions.

Do I really have to say that again?

Holding My Tongue

2009-11-18T19:44:00.001-08:00

Should I have said something? I don't know.

I was with some students tonight. I am the advisor for a student organization and we were playing a game. One of the students got a text from her father. And a couple of the students joked that he was telling her she was adopted.

I stayed quiet. It was a joke. And no one seemed to be saying anything nasty. But I didn't really understand why they thought it was funny. They are students. They are young and say a lot of things that they don't think about first. They don't know I'm adopted. They don't know what it means to me, how it has affected me. It isn't really appropriate for me to talk to them about all of this.

So I said nothing. And I really am not sure I did the right thing. I mean, this is important to me. I want to educate others about the importance of adoptee rights. And I certainly don't think people should use adoption as a way to tease one another.

But I kept it to myself. I feel badly that I did. I guess I'm just not comfortable outing myself in that setting. Maybe I should be, but I wasn't. And now I find myself wondering what I could have done differently.

Adoptee Rights: Louisville, KY - July 25, 2010

2009-11-17T13:45:00.001-08:00

Just this morning, I realized that I have let way too much time go by without either saying anything about the Adoptee Rights Demonstration or, at the very least, updating the badge in the right-hand column. I need to correct that failure now.

On July 25, 2010 adoptees and their supporters will gather in Louisville, Kentucky for the purpose of demonstrating on behalf of the rights of adoptees. The demonstration is organized to coordinate with annual conference for state legislators. This is an opportunity to raise awareness of discrimination faced by adoptees and help work towards legislation that will restore our rights.

This third annual demonstration is the first that I will finally be able to attend. I have been dying to attend this gathering over the last two years, and my schedule was uncooperative. Now I think the stars have finally aligned and will allow me attend and gather with my fellow adoptees.

I hope that you can join us. If you are an adoptee, or if you support adoptees, I hope you will attend or, if you are unable to attend, might consider supporting our efforts in other ways. Spreading the word about the issue, about the demonstration is one way to help. Writing your legislators, letting them know that there are many people who support adoptee rights is another. There are numerous ways to get involved. I hope that you will consider helping.

If you are interested in the demonstration, please click on the badge to the right. Or follow this link: Adoptee Rights Louisville.

Please support adoptees. We deserve equal treatment.

Profiting from Adoption Loss

2009-11-16T19:43:00.001-08:00

So we've had The Locator on television for awhile now. And it looks like ABC will premier Find My Family next week. Both are shows that seek to reunite families that have lost contact. In many cases (though I gather, from what I've heard of The Locator, not always) these are families that have been broken up by adoption. So now we get the feel good reunion stories.

I feel torn. I am glad that these families are being reunited. I'm glad that good reunion stories are out there in public, as it may gain supporters for adoptee rights.

But it just doesn't feel right. Search and reunion are so personal. These are real people (I assume) and real lives. The pain and suffering experienced by a child who loses his or her family is not, should not be, the source of prime-time entertainment. It shouldn't be a source of entertainment at all. A child loses his or her family. And then we compound that loss by broadcasting the reunion on national television.

Am I wrong to doubt that this is a good thing? Do the benefits outweigh the problems? Should we hope that this helps the cause and gets people thinking positively about reunion, and celebrate the reunions that are facilitated by this work? Is it okay to serve this up to the masses and not raise questions about it?

I just don't know. I don't know. I'm tired of people using adoptees for profit. I want us to be people, not commodities. Is that so much to ask? If the government would simply give us our birth certificates, these reunion shows would be unnecessary.

Dammit.

Pathologizing

2009-11-15T19:00:00.001-08:00

One of the things I worry about in talking about issues in adoption, particularly my issues, is that I'm going to over-pathologize adoption.

I do think that adoption harms children. I think its harm is real, describable, and something to avoid. But I do not think that adoptees are irreparably broken. I do not think we are damaged goods.

Adoptees are some of the strongest people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. They are resourceful. They deal with adversity, and they fight for what they believe in. They are competent, functioning, and contributing members of society. They are not hopeless and broken.

Having said that, they shouldn't have to have put up with the adversity that they have. They shouldn't have been put through that emotional turmoil. They should have been free to grow and develop without losing their identity.

Adoptees are survivors. But they shouldn't have had to be.

The Numbers Game

2009-11-14T20:01:00.001-08:00

How many adoptees want their original birth certificates? How many biological parents don't want their information given out to adoptees?

The first question is something opponents to open records like to use to argue against open records. The second question is ignored, or if it's addressed, it is argued that it's irrelevant.

The reason behind why opponents like to toss around claims about how many adoptees want open records is obvious. As I discussed last week in my post "The Rhetoric of Marginalization," opponents want to paint a picture that it's only a small minority of adoptees who want open records. Given that collecting such numbers is nigh impossible (because no one even knows how many adoptees are out there, much less where), such arguments should be easily dismissed.

Because of the trouble getting hard numbers, this is a hard argument to refute, but it should also be pointed out that it's irrelevant. It doesn't matter if only a few adoptees want equal treatment. It is something that belongs to us a civil right, even if only a fraction of us want to assert it. (This seems unlikely to me, but I don't pretend to have evidence.)

The number of biological parents who aren't interested in sealed records seems more clearly on our side. The range I usually see bandied about is that somewhere between 90% and 95% of biological mothers want their children to have access to their original birth certificate. The response, however, is obvious: we cannot allow the majority to trump the rights of the minority. It doesn't matter what the majority want; the minority has rights that should be protected.

In general, I believe, this form of argument has merit. The minority ought to be protected from the tyranny of the majority. But the specifics don't support sealed records; indeed, the case is the reverse.

Opponents of open records suggest that the majority of adoptees don't want open records, and that fact is somehow supposed to support the invented right of anonymity for biological parents. But no such right truly exists. And in as much as it exists in practice, it should be trumped by the adoptee's right to their identity, a human right if ever there was one.

It is incumbent upon the opponents to show the basis for the supposed right to anonymity, and then to show that such a right is somehow more basic than the right to one's identity.

Failing this, opponents attempt to change the conversation to a discussion about what the majority wants. This is a losing argument for either side to rely on. We cannot find definitive numbers (so either side can make themselves look good with bogus surveys and the like). And what the majority wants is irrelevant to what rights people ought to have. Human rights are not things that can be given up just because the majority want to (or, more commonly, want to take them away from some minority group).

Different But Equal

2009-11-13T11:21:00.001-08:00

Problem-solving usually requires creativity. I always think of that when I get into discussions about being anti-adoption. People always think of worst-case scenarios and wonder, "what about the children?" (I'm going to ignore the rampant corruption for now, which too often gives the lie to the feigned concern for the children.)

If we don't have adoption, how we will care for the children who are abused, abandoned, or otherwise cannot be cared for by their parents?

The mere fact that the only solution people can think of is adoption points to the lack of imagination necessary to solve various problems. We think the only solution to children who need love and care is to falsify family records and relationships.

Adoption itself, the language used and the way it is viewed by society, helps to mask the problems that give rise to it.

Adoption, as I've pointed out before, involves loss. A child loses his or her parents. Either they cannot or will not care for him or her. That is a loss.

When we "create" familial relationships through adoption, we cover over the loss, making grieving that loss more complicated. Instead of acknowledging that loss, allowing the child to grieve it, acknowledging the complexities that arise with new familial relationships - ones created by the law instead of by biology - instead of all of that, we pretend as though the problem has been solved.

Rather, all we've done is bury the problem. We complicate an already complicated situation. By insisting on using the term "mother" for the adoptive mother, we confuse and obscure what is already an emotionally dangerous arrangement.

Don't misunderstand me. An adoptive mother may be as important, or more so, emotionally as the biological mother. But she isn't the biological mother. But because we think in such simplistic terms, we co-op the term, and then insist that it doesn't indicate the biological relationship.

I get the impulse. We want to make the situation as easy for the child as possible. We don't want to confuse him or her. Tell the child "I'm your mommy now" makes it easy for the child in conversations with other kids. Trying to explain the intricacies of adoption to the child in terms that will make it possible for the child to explain it to other children is too much for the child to accept. I'm sure that's how we can explain it in terms of thinking about the welfare of the child.

But is it worth to save the child that heartache only to cause more lasting problems? Instead of facing up to the complexities in adoption, and trying to address them, we'd rather ignore them.

I really think we need to jettison adoption and it's problematic terminology and thinking. We need to recognize that there are many important people in our lives, from our childhood on. Parents are important. But so are teachers, aunts, uncles, grandparents, mentors, friends of the family, and the like. For some people, like myself, there were other people who were crucial in our lives. They weren't our parents (biologically-speaking) but they raised us and cared for us. Did they do it only because we call them my parents? No. They did it for ten months before they legally became my parents. Why gloss over our relationship with the same words we use for other relationships? Why pretend that I didn't lose my parents at a young age by calling other people my parents?

We need to think about this in more robust ways. We can invent institutions and language that honors the complex origin of those people we currently call adoptees. I have to believe we, as human beings, have more creativity than this.

Understanding Loss

2009-11-12T19:46:00.001-08:00

My sister-in-law had a miscarriage. This was a year ago. I know that it was a year ago not simply because of the brief blog post about it but because she posts about it on Facebook. She still mourns the loss of her son.

I feel badly for her. And I've certainly never noticed that anyone on her Facebook account has ever told her she needs move past it, to get over it.

I think it stands out for me because it reminds me of the loss inherent in adoption. I see this woman mourning for her child. And I see the outpouring of support for her.

And I'm befuddled by the failure of people to understand the loss of relinquishment. I don't pretend to know what she's going through. But I know she hurts. And she deserves understanding.

And it bothers me that the loss of adoption requires so much explanation, and is so easily dismissed by others. A parent loses a child, and a child loses a parent. And we are supposed to spend the entire month of November celebrating this sort of thing? Celebrating?

Further, no one doubts that my sister-in-law was her son's mother. No one questions that. And they shouldn't.

And yet, some of the insensitive people I've seen talk about adoption refuse to acknowledge that the biological parents ARE parents. They give weird definitions that entail your mother is the person who raises you, is the person that is always there for you. These descriptions would entail that my sister-in-law is not a mother, but I don't know anyone insensitive enough to make that claim. Yet people have no trouble doing it when it comes to biological parents who relinquish.

I have sympathy for my sister-in-law. And I'm not sure I feel right dragging her story into this discussion. I don't mean to minimize, in any way, the loss she has experienced and continues to experience. But the mind boggles when I see people deny the loss of adoption.

Miscommunication?

2009-11-11T18:47:00.001-08:00

I'm reminded once more of the pitfalls of having only casual interactions with people on Facebook.

One of my brothers, one of my bio-father's sons, posted something on Facebook asking why deer always wait to cross the road right before a car comes. I was feeling badly that I hadn't really written to him in a while, so I wrote something back about getting to the other side, and then said I hoped everyone was okay.

He wrote back and said that they were. But this morning, a friend of his wrote that he thought it had something to do with chickens. And my brother wrote that it wasn't funny.

And I got worried. Had my lame attempt at humor offended him? I don't know him, and he doesn't know me. Had he misunderstood my comment? Or had he understood, but thought it was in poor taste? I don't know him, so I don't know how to take his response to his friend.

This internet reunion thing is crazy-making. Maybe if we met in person he would hate me.

Why do I care? Why do I fret about this? Why does it matter whether someone I don't know likes me?

Ugh. Some days I wish I could just forget all of this.

Poser

2009-11-10T20:22:00.001-08:00

I'm not sure why, but sometimes I feel like a fake. I can't quite explain it.

I know adoptees who were abused. Adoptees whose biological parents were lied to. Adoptees who were lied to for decades about being adopted. Adoptees who have been denied by their biological family. Adoptees who have found graves or never found anything.

What do I have to complain about? What pain have I experienced?

I feel like I don't have the right to talk about adoption. I feel like I had it good, and I ought to be happy with what I've got.

Maybe that seems silly. Or maybe it's the gratefulness shtick. Or maybe something like Catholic guilt. I don't know.

I just don't feel right being upset about adoption.

And yet, I am upset about it. And I don't know how to stop being upset about it, so I just keep hoping no one finds out that I have no right to complain.

Conflict of Interest

2009-11-09T20:16:00.001-08:00

I just got back from my monthly search/reunion support group. It's open to adoptees, relinquishing parents, and adoptive parents. And it's run out of a family services center. A service center that facilitates adoptions. And I try not to think about that.

You see, when this whole thing started, I needed to be able to talk to people. I needed face-to-face support. I think I still do. And I also want to be there for other adoptees going through this emotional roller-coaster of adoption, search, and reunion.

And yet, it's a group, run by an agency that, among many other helpful services, facilitates adoptions. And the group is facilitated by social workers who both search on behalf of adoptees and natural mothers, as well as oversee adoptions.

As a result, it's hard to feel free to speak my mind about adoption. I don't want a group I do nothing about rant about adoption. But I want a place where I can be angry about adoption. Where I can express my anger about society's views, the proliferation of adoption, and the denial of basic human rights to adoptees.

When we are talking about individual stories and situations, the social workers are helpful and supportive. The group is good. But every now and then, somehow we get on the topic of adoption in more general terms. And I feel like I have to sit there with a fake smile plastered on my face. I glaze over and wish I were somewhere else.

I wish I had an unaffiliated support group to attend. Especially one just for adoptees. But I will still go to this one for now. I do find it helpful. And I do want to be there for others. I just wish that it was more socially acceptable to question adoption. Until people begin to understand the harm adoption inflicts, there is no incentive to look for alternatives.

And yes, that makes me angry.

Twin Traumas

2009-11-08T21:17:00.001-08:00

There are two things that seem to be everywhere. Adoption has popped up in the strangest places, as though it won't let me forget it. That seems to have been increasingly the case over the last few years. The other one is divorce.

I've been "lucky" enough to live through both. And they each affected me in different ways.

Brodzinsky, et al., compare and contrast the losses suffered by children of adoption and children of divorce. I get to reflect on how they can reinforce one another. After all, when one set of parents abandons you, it sets you up to think that relationships are impermanent things. Who knows when the next person will leave.

And with divorce, they do just that. You go from two new parents, back to one (depending on the custody arrangement). And when it happens at a relatively young age, it's hard to really understand that it's not about you, and that it won't keep happening.

So as I'm watching the season finale of Mad Men tonight, I'm struck by the scene where the two leads sit the children down to explain that daddy won't be living in the house anymore. All I can think about is how unfair this is to the children. I want to scream at the parents that their own shit is stupid, that they need to suck it up and do what's right for their kids. Never mind that they can't figure out how to make their relationship work, they have a responsibility to those kids, and their divorce is going to mess with them for the rest of their lives.

My reaction to this story is nearly as visceral as my reaction to every dumb adoption story I've seen on television since I started seeing adoptions stories on television. I hate how children are treated, and I hate how self-absorbed adults can be. Yes, it sucks to be responsible for another human being, but you had a kid, suck it up and be the adult.

I know it's just a television show. And I know this is the sort of thing that happens. But it still bothers me. I hate that it happens. What bothers me more is that we have little trouble recognizing the harm that divorce does to children. But we are still so unwilling to acknowledge the harm adoption does.

Maybe I just need to quit watching television.

Confusion

2009-11-07T08:25:00.001-08:00

I think I have search on the brain right now. I'm not exactly sure why. But there it is, and I figure I should just run with it.

However, in my fixation about thinking through the issue of search, I want to be clear about something. The NCFA and other opponents to equal rights for adoptees would have you believe that open records is about search and reunion. It's not, and that is important.

By conflating the two issues, the NCFA avoids the equal rights argument and tries to suggest that what we are fighting for is the right to have relationships with our biological families. Of course, no one has the right to any relationship, so it seems easier to refute this position. It's called a straw man, and it's a fallacy. But if done well, it can be rhetorically effective.

The fact of the matter is, adoptees have a right to access government documents about themselves, the same documents every other citizen has access to. It doesn't matter for what purpose they want them. These are their documents. They have a right to them. We have a right to them.

Open records is simply about giving us the same rights everyone else has. It's about providing us access to documents that no other person is denied.

The issue of search is important. And it requires each adoptee to decide how to approach it, how they need to go about answering the questions, for themselves. Some may never search. But it is their decision.

The issue of open records is about equality and civil rights. We are owed these documents. And any discussion that avoids that simple observation is really avoiding the true issue. This is what it's about. And anyone who cares about adoptees should support open records.

The Rhetoric of Marginalization

2009-11-06T20:19:00.001-08:00

There are a number of commercials on television now whose first line of dialogue begins with the word "Fact!" Indeed, I just saw an Advil commercial that begins that way.

Of course, many times, what follows the exclamation "Fact!" in such commercials is almost never an actual fact. This is a corollary of something I often tell my students: Whenever someone uses the word "clearly" or "obviously," what follows is almost never clear or obvious.

I thought of this as I was doing a little bit of research for today's post. I was looking through various materials trying to recall where I had read that, according to the NCFA, few adoptees search for their biological families. Sure enough, it was in their "Adoption Factbook IV." In several articles, they claim that few adoptees search. Those who do are in the minority. And yet, curiously, they don't cite evidence for this "fact." They simply assert it over and over again. (This is the same method George W. Bush used to "prove" that Iraq had WMD.)

Of course, the NCFA has a vested interest in maintaining the perception that few adoptees search. There are political and economic motivations. Further, in perpetuating the perception that few adoptees search, they help discourage more adoptees from searching. If adoptees who are considering searching are told that it is abnormal to search, they are less likely to do it.

The reasons why are clear enough. There is, as I pointed out yesterday, a great deal of ambivalence for many adoptees regarding searching. There are emotional obstacles to doing so. Putting out the message that they would be in the minority of they searched simply reinforces those inherent obstacles.

I think that's part of why that passage I quoted yesterday from Being Adopted seems so important to me. Every adoptee searches. Every adoptee goes through these questions. How they resolve them varies. And I won't sit here and say that there is only one right way to resolve them. For me, I needed to hear the story from her. If someone else doesn't, that's okay. But that doesn't mean the person hasn't thought about the story, hasn't asked him or herself the questions.

Every adoptee needs to know that it is not unusual to ask these questions, to want to find some answers. They should be allowed to grapple with them in their own way, at their own pace, to be sure. But this repeated message that "most adoptees don't search" is harmful. Adoptees who hear it learn to stuff their curiosity and their emotions regarding their origins. However they decide to resolve these issues, they should be allowed the freedom to do so in their own way. They shouldn't have to hear, over and over again, how one way of doing so is strange and something most (normal?) adoptees never do.

Every Adoptee Searches

2009-11-05T19:51:00.001-08:00

When I started actively searching for my first mom, I started getting a little crazy. The emotional turmoil of deciding to move forward with a search, the waiting, the wondering, the ambivalence, the feelings of disloyalty... All of it drove me a little mad. (For those that know me, a little MORE mad.)

I began scouring the internet for resources to help me. I'm sure I've mentioned this before, but I didn't really know anyone adopted when I was growing up (or really, until I got into reunion), so I didn't know how other adoptees felt about this. I just wanted some insights into what I was going through.

I stumbled upon a review of Being Adopted: The Lifelong Search for Self by Brodzinsky, et al. I ordered it from Amazon and began devouring it immediately. The book was a life-saver in many ways: for the first time in my life I realized I wasn't alone in how I felt about adoption. I think that's why the book is still the first one I recommend to anyone when it comes to books about adoption.

One passage, in the first half of the book, has stuck with me:

We are often asked, "What percentage of adoptees search for their birth parents?" And our answer surprises people: "One hundred percent." In our experience, all adoptees engage in a search process. It may not be a literal search, but it is a meaningful search nonetheless. It begins when the child first asks, "Why did it happen?" "Who are they?" "Where are they now?"

Those questions are some of the earliest ones I can remember. Asking them helped shape my childhood and, ultimately, my identity.

We usually take "search" in such a literal way. And it is heavy with implications and pitfalls. What does it say about our feelings towards adoption, towards our adoptive family, towards ourselves? But I have to believe every adoptee searches, in precisely the way that Brodzinsky and his co-authors suggest.

Some adoptees may resolve those questions without ever performing a literal search. Or some might abandon the search before it ever gets that far. But I have trouble believing that any adoptee never asks these, and related, questions. Never wonders about where they came from.

Those questions, that wondering, is a form of search. We may forgo carrying it through to the end, to finding out real answers, but the questions are always there to be asked.

I'm glad I found some of my answers.

Rebelling and Adoption

2009-11-04T11:09:00.001-08:00

One of the things that has been amazing for me during my reunion with my first mom is how similar we are. Our interests, our fears, our peculiar neuroses... I had long suspected that, in the nurture versus nature debate, nature had a lot to do with things.

That's not to say nurture doesn't have a role to play. I know that my (adoptive) family had an impact on the person I would become. That was never really in doubt.

But I have to admit I didn't fully appreciate the nature side of this until I reunited with my mom. I know that not every adoptee experiences the connection that I did. For me, though, it was huge. My mom noticed it, too, as she has said a number of times that she thinks she and I have more in common than she does with any of her other boys.

And I've thought about that. I know that often, when children are raised by their biological parents, they often go in very different directions than their parents. Academics often don't have children who are particularly interested in school. Very religious parents often find their children are somewhat apathetic towards religion (or vice versa).

Which has gotten me thinking... Am I so much like her because she wasn't around to rebel against? Instead of rebelling against those parts of me that are most like her in order to establish my own, separate identity, it seems as though I embraced those parts. Maybe as a way to hang on to whatever connection with her I had even in her absence?

I don't pretend to fully understand human psychology, or even my own psychology. I never really took an interest in developmental psych. But I have to admit this question fascinates me.

Demons of Adoption Awards 2009

2009-11-03T06:34:00.001-08:00

Just a quick note to let you all know that the annual Demons of Adoption Award was announced by Pound Pup Legacy yesterday. The "winner" was Bethany Christian Services. From the announcement:

To raise a voice against adoption propaganda and the self congratulatory practices of CCAI's annual Angels in Adoption Awards^TM, Pound Pup Legacy initiated the Annual Demons of Adoption in 2007. This year there were many 'worthy' nominees, but members and visitors of PPL's website decided Bethany Christian Services to be most deserving to receive the award. Bethany Christian Services has over the years used coercive tactics on pregnant women to obtain infants for adoption and has used its influence, both in the US and abroad to create 'orphans' to further expand their business.

You can read the whole announcement, with a lot of history of the adoption industry and it's self-congratulatory "Angels in Adoption Awards," at Pound Pup Legacy: Bethany Christian Services recipient of the Demons of Adoption Awards 2009. It's a really informative read. It's also a pretty disturbing read.

Identity

2009-11-02T19:12:00.001-08:00

Identity is a social construction. Who we are is shaped, in part, by the messages we receive starting at a very young age. It is not just that, of course. And there are elements that are ingrained in us from birth. Our temperament, for instance, is basic building block of our personality. It helps shape our reactions to things that happen to us.

So many different bits play a role in shaping our identity, it's hard to tease them all out and understand how they impact us. All of which leaves us with a temptation to oversimplify the situation. We want to point to just one thing, or a couple of things as essential to our identity. But we have to resist that impulse.

When I try to explain the importance of reclaiming my original birth certificate, it usually results in blank stares. "I have my birth certificate and it didn't affect my identity." Of course, the person who says that cannot really know it didn't affect his or her identity. They've always had that information.

The adoptee who lacks it often can't escape the sneaking suspicion that something magical might be contained in that document. That something essential to identity is hidden there, and they are being kept from it.

While I don't deny I have, at times, been tempted to overblow the importance of my OBC, part of me isn't sure that it's possible. After all, it is a part of my identity, and something I should have.

Maybe even more than the information is what it symbolizes. After all, when I did get my OBC, I already knew what it said. But that isn't why I wanted it anymore. I wanted it because it returned to me a measure of control. A measure of what was lost all those years ago. I got back a bit of power over how my identity could be defined.

There is a power in these kinds of symbols. It is obvious that there is power or groups wouldn't be trying so hard to keep adoptees from them. They wouldn't be trying so hard to keep us from reclaiming this piece of ourselves. And the harder they try to keep them sealed, the more adoptees become convinced that there really is something magical hidden inside.

What could be more magical than a piece of yourself?

Fear

2009-11-01T19:54:00.001-08:00

The comment left on Tuesday's post has had me thinking.

I was struck by the fears that Shari, an adoptive parent, expressed about failing her daughter and how her daughter might feel about her later in life. I suspect that many adoptive parents would be able to relate. The one that stuck with me most forcefully was the fear that her daughter might one day hate her.

I can honestly say I don't know too many adoptees that hate their adoptive parents. I'm sure there are a few. Many of those, I suspect, were abused and have good reasons. And there may be some who weren't abused and still hate their adoptive parents. But there are also biological children who hate their biological parents. It happens. But I suspect it's rare.

That's not to say I don't understand the fear at all. I do have some sense of it. Indeed, I often don't talk to my (adoptive) parents about adoption. I suspect that even if they could hear my feelings about it without feeling as though it's about them, they might still feel upset. They might wonder if they did something wrong.

The answer is, they didn't. I mean, sure, they did things wrong. What parent doesn't? But they didn't do anything wrong to adopt me. Just because I hate adoption doesn't mean I hate them. I don't. I don't think I ever have.

They made mistakes. They were bound to. No parent, adoptive or otherwise, can avoid making mistakes. And children, adopted or biological, survive those mistakes. And most, I think, don't forever hold them against their parents.

I don't know if it's useful to hear me say this, but I've been thinking about it a lot the last few days, and I wanted to put it out there.

NaBloPoMo (again)

2009-10-30T21:51:00.001-07:00

You may have noticed a new badge off to the right. The month of November isn't just about celebrating children losing their identities and families. It's also National Blog Posting Month.

Once again, I'm going to take this November to refocus on this blog and think carefully about adoption. This is probably not what the industry intends when they want to celebrate adoption this month. But I'm not terribly in the mood to celebrate adoption.

Still, it gives me some motivation to write every day. I always work better with hard deadlines. Well, maybe not better, but I certainly get something done.

I hope it's useful for me, and interesting for my readers. I just wanted to give you all a heads up before the madness begins. It all starts Sunday. We'll see if I make it another 30 days.

Adoption: The Same but Different?

2009-10-27T22:23:00.001-07:00

One of the things that has always puzzled me in discussions about adoption is the need, by some, to claim that adoption is no different than having biological children. They are both ways of starting a family, and both equally good. Indeed, adoption is often portrayed as better, a blessing that should be shouted from the mountain top.

Of course it's utter nonsense, but it fascinates me. I say it's nonsense because I don't know a single parent that wouldn't admit, if they are being honest, that they feel differently about their different children. My (adoptive) parents feel differently about each of their three biological children. And I'm sure they feel differently about me than they do about their other children.

Please note, I didn't say better or worse. But different. I don't doubt that they love us all a great deal, and probably as much equally as one can measure such things. But they don't feel the same about all of us. As it should be; we are individuals, after all.

Still, I'm curious about this need to normalize (and treat as no different) adoption. I don't mean to suggest everyone does this. Or that all adoptive parents do it. Or anything so universal (and thus, obviously, wrong). I simply notice that many (a sizable minority, perhaps?) seem to think that adoption is no different than having biological children, or to overcompensate and hold that adoption is superior.

Maybe I could feel better about adoption if I saw more people willing to openly acknowledge and discuss the pitfalls and difficulties peculiar to adoption. I don't know if I could ever accept it, even as a necessary evil, but I would feel better for the next generation of adoptees if we were more open about the differences.

I have read some things from adoptive parents on this, and they are some of the best people suited to come clean on this score. I don't know what it's like to be raised by my biological parents. I can't compare what the differences might be. I can only talk about my experiences as an adoptee, and those raised by their biological parents can try to make comparisons. Maybe, in that way, I could ask one of my (adoptive) siblings to write and compare notes. But none of them seem to be interested in that endeavor. However, adoptive parents that also have biological children are uniquely situated to at least draw some comparisons in their own family.

Reforming adoption, better helping adoptees deal with some of their unique challenges, requires us to be more honest about the differences. Until we are, I worry that adoptee voices will continue to be drowned out by the "adoption is beautiful" crowd.

Adoptee First

2009-10-19T22:25:00.001-07:00

My mind has been all over the place. I'm still sorting it all out. And until I do, I'm very hesitant to write again. I'm fearful of hurting someone or being misunderstood. As a writer, I'm far too aware of the limitations of my medium. It is a joy, but it isn't perfect. Much gets lost in the written word.

But I need an outlet. I need to talk out loud. I do that, you know. I talk out lout. To myself. I carry on conversations as a means to sort stuff out. And sometimes I need to write in public, even if it scares me, even if I fear I'm going to mess up. Because sometimes I need to bounce things off of other people, even if no one is listening.

I get the big-picture focus on adoptee rights that is at the heart of the disputes over what should and shouldn't be said by adoptees. It's important to gain allies and win people to the cause. I get the practical impulse here. I really do.

And maybe, in the end, that's my problem. As interested as I am in reform, and in opening records, as important as those things are... Maybe I'm just not as committed to them as I might be. For me (and this has been true in so many areas of my life), I'm much more interested in the individual than in the cause.

This is not a self-congratulatory thing. I'm not holding myself up as a bastion of goodness or perfection. Indeed, there is a short-sightedness to it. Many more individuals will be helped by reforms and by opening records than by any act that happens at the individual level.

But, as an adoptee who didn't know anything about other adoptees for three and a half decades, I can't help but focus on the individual adoptees I've gotten to know over the last few years. I know they want reforms and open records, too. But I also know that some of them have anger and pain and frustration. And I know what it's like to have that bottled up and to be felt misunderstood and to be felt ignored and neglected.

I know there is a bigger picture out there. And I know that, in some way, it might be better to focus on that. But I can't do it. I have, and will, defended my fellow adoptees when attacked by others because they are my people. I don't care if they did something or said something that upset someone else (unless it was another adoptee). I know all too well what it's like to hurt and feel alone in that hurt. Or worse, to have others pile on because you dared express that hurt.

I'm sorry if other members of the triad, if other people involved in some way with adoption, are hurt by what adoptees say. But frankly, it's not my problem. It is time for some thicker skin.

For example, I have never used the term "baby stealer." I don't endorse it's application to adoptive parents. But I'm not going to lambast an adoptee for saying it.

Instead of trying to understand where these hurtful attacks come from, adoptees are merely told to stop the name-calling and understand the perspective of adoptive parents. See, this works both ways. Instead of assuming adoptees are just angry and nasty, why don't we encourage adoptive parents to understand where these attacks come from. Step back from the personalization of it, and understand why adoptees are this pissed off.

Heaven forbid we demand adoptive parents stop thinking about their feelings and start trying to understand the feelings of adoptees. Rather, we feel the need to protect them, to get them on our side, and to keep them safe from the nastiness adoptees (some of us anyway) harbor inside. I get why they are hurt by the language used. But that language points to something basic in the adoptee experience. And it's time to get over the hurt and start trying to really get the adoptee perspective.

That's where I'm coming from in all of this. I'm sure it's wrong. Just as I'm sure most of the things I say are wrong.

I certainly don't think that taking the pragmatic, big-picture view of reform is at odds with caring about the needs of individuals. I firmly believe we can and should do both. Further, I believe that just about everyone I know who cares about this stuff also believes we can do both. But I will say, if something has to be sacrificed, I'm going to care for those people here and now who are hurting and who are justifiably pissed off by how society has treated them, big-picture be damned. My hope, which is nearly always both naive and eternal, is that adoptees looking out for each other is the central building block of that big picture. After all, no one else has been looking out for us all these years. I don't expect them to start.

More Harm Than Good?

2009-10-18T00:32:00.001-07:00

In the past couple of years I have become more active in the adoption community. This happened in large part because I searched for, and ultimately reunited with, my first mother. The emotional turmoil that search brought about sent me looking for other adoptees.

I hadn't known many adoptees in my life before then. And I didn't realize I wasn't the only person who felt the way I do. It was such a relief to find out I wasn't alone. To finally have people to talk to. To find my people, my tribe.

And now, after a few years, I'm beginning to wonder if I really have anything to contribute. I've butt heads with more than a couple of people who work actively on reform. I come across as abrasive, even when I don't mean to. And I've been told by more than one person that I don't approach some of this stuff in the right way.

So what use am I to the adoption reform movement? At the moment, I can't think of anything. I have never attacked adoptive parents as a group. And I don't think they deserve it, but apparently supporting my fellow adoptees, even when they do so attack adoptive parents and others, puts me on the wrong side of this movement.

I don't want to be a hindrance. I don't want to turn anyone off. And frankly, I don't need yet another lecture on how I should behave.

I'm tired. And believe it or not, I have a great deal of respect for everyone who works on this cause.

But right now, all I feel is that I'm done. I won't stop being an adoptee. I won't stop thinking about this. But I'm tired of being told I am hurting the cause. And I'm fearful they are right. That's not what I want.

And all of this serves to make me more angry. And feel more alone than ever before.

Putting the "Adult" in Adult Adoptee?

2009-10-16T10:21:00.001-07:00

Lately, there has been some discussion at various "locations" on the web that I frequent about how to talk about adoption. I have a tendency to get angry when I talk about things that I feel strongly about.

I do believe in rational, respectful discourse. I have long lamented that our society seems unable to disagree without demonizing. I do try to understand people I disagree with. And I think every human being deserves to be treated with respect. (Not "the respect that is due them" because that opens the door to saying that someone doesn't deserve respect. I really believe that everyone deserves respect. Period.)

As with most people, and most moral principles, it is an ideal I aspire to, rather than one I always consistently live up to. It is something I always want to be getting better about. I'm sure I still have a long ways to go.

Of course, those who are discussing this are not focusing on the moral principle that everyone deserves respect. They are concerned that "angry" adoptees will cause adoptive parents (and maybe even first parents) to tune us out, costing us invaluable allies in our fight to open records and reform adoption. If we are angry, we are easily dismissed.

When I talk about adoption, when I get angry about adoption, I am often not angry at someone. I'm usually angry at the system, at the discrimination. I try not to take that out on parents (whether adoptive or first). I don't blame them for the problems of adoption. Of course, it's also true that, without the demand of adoptee parents, the push to get women to relinquish may be eased. Still, the basic underlying problems are not due to the actions of individuals. It is the way adoption has evolved, to continue treating adoptees as children, unless they speak out, then we dismiss them. We keep their origins hidden, and we expect them to be grateful.

And if they have a problem with that, we expect them to be respectful and speak civilly to other members of the triad.

And I hear all that. I don't feel good when I take my frustration out on other people. But there comes a point when civil discourse seems to fall on deaf ears. If I'm civil, I can be ignored. And I don't know how to balance that. Sometimes, I have to scream at the top of my lungs to be heard, to be noticed, to be given a chance to air my grievances. Sometimes you have to make some noise.

Further, not every adoptee who speaks out about this has had the support, the opportunities, to process their own feelings, their own pain. How do I tell them to stuff that down when in public (even if it's the public internet)? Sometimes that pain has to come out.

All our lives, adoptees are expected to hide. As children, we receive the message that expressing curiosity about our origins is not allowed. Expressing distress about adoption is thought to be disloyal to our adoptive families. And now, as adults, we must continue to hide our feelings so as not to rub people the wrong way, so as not to scare them off.

Our origins have already been stripped from us. And now we are to lose our anger, too?

I'm not comfortable with that.

At what point do the adoptive parents and the first parents have to meet us even halfway? How much bending over backwards do I need to do to get them to see things my way? To show me a bit of respect, and accord me my rights? To show a bit of concern for the next generations of adoptees?

I'm really not out to get parents. I understand that sometimes my words might seem scary or angry. They might disrupt your notions of adoption, and they might make you concerned for your role in all of this. And you may be tempted to dismiss me.

But I would hope that even when the angry adoptees speak, they might be accorded some respect, too. They have a voice, and good for them for finally finding it. It might be scary to listen to, but that doesn't make it any less important. Indeed, I think the anger signals that it is very important indeed.

I don't know how to balance these competing concerns. I feel the pull of each of them. In the end, the adoptees have been getting the short end of the stick for so long, I don't know how to ask them to rein it in a bit. We may be angry sometimes. But the anger is justified. And it needs to be heard.

Better...

2009-10-09T10:09:00.001-07:00

I am feeling better, but being sick for a week has created a good backlog of things to do. I'm sorry that my return to regular posting was so short-lived, but I'm trying to get back up to speed. I might have to do National Blog Posting Month again (in November) to get back in the swing of things here.

For now, I wanted to share something you with you, written by a good (online) friend of mine... She wrote this on Facebook, and I don't think she minds me sharing it. It so beautifully sums up the experience of the adoptee, I cannot imagine how to improve upon it:

The bastard in love, lust and agony by Andraya

Being adopted is hard work. It takes more effort to trust, love, accept and believe. Not to give those things, mind you, but to allow others to give them to me. I trust, love, accept and believe too intensely, too soon and without thinking it through. But to receive them from others is heart wrenching. I can list off a thousand reasons why I am simply, not good enough. If I sit down and actually think about it I AM good enough, often TOO good, but in the moment my inner strength backs down like a puppy shit kicked one too many times. This can not be the way to live, this can not be how I spend my life, angry and alone because of fear. Fear that yet another person will walk away, die, be taken or otherwise removed from my life. It cripples every personal relationship in my life, friends, family, lovers and even my children. Putting this out there on facebook is probably the stupidest thing I can do... already my brain is pushing. It's like tempting the fates, "See! I told you I wasn't what you needed or wanted! Neener, neener, neener!"

So here is my promise to myself and to all of you. I will try not to sabotage my relationship with you, whatever form of relationship that is. I will accept whatever you are able to give and give whatever you are able to accept. I will initiate conversation without letting my brain finish it for you based on what I think you will say. I will not read your mind, only my own. I will be more tolerant of what others are able to offer. I will enjoy the time I have with each and every one of you and never push you for more than you can give at any moment. I won't put my shit onto you or my words in your mouth.

And if I can't and you see me acting in a way that is putting our relationship in jeopardy all I ask is that you tell me one thing...

STOP ACTING SO FUCKING ADOPTED YOU BEAUTIFUL BASTARD!

H1N1

2009-09-25T21:16:00.001-07:00

Sorry for the lack of update this week. I seem to have come down with flu-like symptoms. While I can't be sure that it's swine flu, that would be my guess. Nothing serious, but I'm spending much of my time just resting. I hope to get a new post up next week.

Curiosity Killed Privacy

2009-09-17T21:46:00.001-07:00

Last month I gave a paper on Open Records at a conference. I also submitted a proposal to another conference to be held next spring. It's all by way of trying to think through the issues here.

One of the things that struck me came during lunch after I had given my paper. Someone at lunch asked me why it was important to have the original birth certificate. Part of me wanted to stick with equal rights.

But I always want to explain things. Motivate them. And I do feel something more than a mere concern for equality. There is something deeply distressing about not having the information on that form.

Of course, the birth certificate is not really enough. But it's something. And it does feel like the only thing I'm entitled to fight for. The rest is nice. But what I'm owed by the government is that equal treatment.

The reason I fight for it, though, is that without even that barest piece of information, something is missing, something is incomplete.

Those who oppose Open Records chalk it up to curiosity. And the reason for doing so is obvious. Why should our curiosity be satisfied at the cost of someone else's right to privacy. If the opponents to Open Records can win that rhetorical point, the battle is over. If it's curiosity versus rights, curiosity will lose every time.

But it's not curiosity. It is much more than that. This is part of my story. It's a small piece of a bigger puzzle. This is part of who I am. It's not idle curiosity versus privacy. It is part of my dignity and identity as a human being. Why should someone be able to hold that from me?

I do think some people understand. But even people who aren't opposed to Open Records don't always seem to get why this is a big deal. I don't really know how to explain it to them.

It's my identity. It's important.

Now to convince the rest of the world.

Brothers

2009-09-10T19:36:00.001-07:00

I knew I had a brother.

Maybe it would be more accurate to say that I knew I had a sibling, and I had very, very good reason for thinking I had a brother. I knew my father had had another child. And some research last year revealed that there was a man who fit all the details I had, and so I believed, with very good evidence, that I had a brother.

Because of a fellow adoptee contacting some natural family on Facebook a while back, I decided to see if I could find the person I thought was my brother on Facebook. It took almost no time at all, and after deliberating for less than an hour, I sent him a message.

He responded, tentatively at first, but it didn't take long. He accepted me as his brother, as did my other brother, whom he contacted. In almost no time at all, I was finally in contact with my father's family. Both of them have said that they think my father feels guilty, and that he will probably get in contact with me at some point. (Of course, this was a couple of months ago now. Still nothing on that front.)

They have been great. Immediately welcoming me and treating me with kindness.

And yet, I jumped into this with very little forethought. I don't know what I expected or hoped for. I guess I thought I might get his attention, and get to know my brother(s). But now that I'm in touch, I don't know what to say to them. They have both offered, on several occasions, to answer questions that I have, but I can't think of what questions I want to ask.

This whole thing feels so primal that coming up with meaningful questions seems beyond me at this point. I want to form a relationship with them, but it's hard. I don't even exactly know why, or what would make it easier. I wish I had thought about this more before flying off half-cocked. But now I'm in it, I don't want them to think I don't want to get to know them. I just have no idea how to go about it.

I seem to have this uncanny ability to turn even a good thing into a problem.

Catching Up

2009-09-03T18:57:00.001-07:00

It has been far too long. I know this. I can only offer apologies and hope that, if anyone is still ever reading here, they will forgive me and know that I will try to do better.

This has been something of an insane year. The flood finally ended, and we got back into the house after only being out for a week. Of course, that began several months of trying to put things back in order.

From that I moved on to summer school, where I was teaching too much and barely go through the five weeks. But I did, just in time for adoption to once more take over my life. I wish I had been posting more. I could have used the outlet, I think.

Ronni and I took a trip to Ireland, one of the lands of my ancestors. Indeed, probably the one place I've really been desperate to go since I learned what my biological heritage is. If anyone is interested, I posted a bunch of pictures and stories from that trip on my other blog, Over a Candle. It was amazing to see that land.

After we got back, I had a couple of weeks to get ready for a conference in Philadelphia where I was to present a paper on Open Records for adoptees. Just as I began to work on that paper, though, I got word that my grandfather, my (adoptive) dad's dad, had passed away. It wasn't a surprise, really, but it meant a scramble to try to get back to Ohio for the funeral.

As it turns out, not only did I manage to make it home for the funeral, but my aunts and uncles asked me to do the eulogy. That was an odd experience. I kept wondering why they wouldn't ask one of the biological grandkids to do it. Of course, I don't think it occurred to them even once. In that way, I realized that I am luckier than some adoptees: I was never made to feel different or second-class in my family. Not every adoptee has had that experience.

After coming back from the funeral I turned almost right around to go to my conference. That was an interesting time. I still hope I might do something more with my paper, and it led me to making a connection with someone who told me about a conference next spring devoted to adoption. So another opportunity to combine my profession with my interest in working on this issue.

Then I had a couple of weeks before the school year started. So what do I do? I find my brother, my biological father's son, on Facebook. After considering it for about an hour, I decided to write him. Now I'm in touch with my father's two sons. That is a whole 'nother can of worms. It's been very good, but I'm still not sure how to move forward with that piece of this gigantic adoption puzzle.

That reunion is the major thing in my adoption life right now. And I need to start writing about it. And I will. Tonight was just about getting any readers we still have left up to date with where I've been and what I've been doing. More to come soon.

Father's Day

2009-06-21T21:58:00.001-07:00

Seems appropriate that the last post I managed on here was for Mother's Day. I can't seem to manage to find time for real updates here, but I always manage to update for the difficult events.

Not that I have anything to report, mind you. My biological "father" still hasn't acknowledged my existence. And I'm still working on being okay with that. I'm not, mind you. But the one upside of the insanity which has been life the last few months is that I don't even have time to worry about these issues. Not that they've gone away. Just that they aren't in the forefront of my consciousness.

I did call my (adoptive) father. We didn't talk long. We never do. But it was still good to touch base with him.

When I stop and think about the impact my father had on my life, I think I'm startled a bit. I always thought I was closer to my mom. But there is part of that that comes from taking him for granted. He was often there, in the background. He wasn't always good at the emotional stuff. But when it came to practical problems, he was always willing to help.

My dad isn't perfect. But he has supported me. And as I get a little older, I find myself appreciating that more.

I think the reason I want acknowledgement from my biological "father" is that I was hoping I might find a man who was more in touch with his emotions. No such luck.

But it doesn't make me not appreciated my father any less.

Mother's Day

2009-05-13T22:21:00.001-07:00

Mother's Day has come and gone. I spoke to both my mothers. It was nice talking to my first mom. It was a little strange talking to my adoptive mom. But both conversations were pleasant. And they were both happy to hear from me.

And it got me thinking... What ever hang-ups I have with my father, they seem to pale in comparison with the hang-ups I have with my mother (my adoptive mother).

Is it because he was around and she wasn't? Is it because I expected more from her, and so could have a bigger let down? Is there something different about the way we think about our mothers?

It seems bizarre. I love my dad, but he's not exactly been emotionally available. Still, he provides a kind of comfort and support that I value. My mom has often not been that for me. I don't know why. Did I just not lean on her? Did I try and find that she wasn't strong enough? Did I expect too much of her? She always seemed to need supporting, rather than being able to support.

I'm not looking to trade one mom for another. I'm not trying to compare my mom unfairly to my dad. But I've pulled away so much from her, I don't know how to find my way back to our relationship. And I don't know what kind of relationship I would want to get back.

Nothing like a Hallmark holiday to get me thinking about my bizarre familial relationships.

Mother's Day Cards

2009-05-03T21:44:00.001-07:00

I'm desperately trying to resume some kind of normalcy in life, with some success. Our basement is being returned to its previous state, albeit slowly. The semester is winding down (though the meetings haven't eased up). In general I'm beginning to think we might just come out of this without too much more difficulty. *knock on wood*

So today I looked for Mother's Day cards. After two months of not thinking about adoption, today I couldn't avoid it. It seemed the every card either made direct reference to birth or made some observation about how mom was always there for you.

Only one of the two people I was buying cards for was there when I was born, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't want to be reminded of missing out on the next three and a half decades. So cards about giving birth seemed right out.

And given the situation with either of my mom's, especially some of the things my a-mom and I have been going through the last six months, I didn't think reminiscences about all those times together as mother and child seemed to hit the right note, either.

It was aggravating trying to find cards that still showed the love I feel for these two women, without sounding false. It's these little struggles that reminds me of my odd status.

I'm really not all that fond of Mother's Day, even while I'm fond of my mothers.

Still Nothing New

2009-03-31T22:58:00.001-07:00

We had to evacuate over the weekend. Our house survived, mostly, but we're not back in it yet. We hope to be in a few days. I hope for an update next week.

No Real Update

2009-03-23T19:32:00.001-07:00

Sorry for the lack of any real updates. I hope to post next week. I'm currently in the middle of helping my community prepare for what could very well be a record flood. I'm spending much of my days sandbagging and hoping for the best.

Probably not this Information

2009-03-16T18:52:00.001-07:00

So today is Freedom of Information Day. It kicks off the beginning of Sunshine Week. It is an effort by the media to draw attention to the vital role that freedom of information plays in our society.

From the website dedicated to it, sunshineweek.org:

Sunshine Week is a national initiative to open a dialogue about the importance of open government and freedom of information. Participants include print, broadcast and online news media, civic groups, libraries, non-profits, schools and others interested in the public's right to know.

As I heard about this today, and heard stories about, for instance, a foster parent who unsealed the records kept about his (or her, I'm not sure) status as a foster parent, I thought about myself and my fellow Adoptees.

The government has our information. The government keeps our information from us, sealing it away so that we cannot touch it. We are not allowed to know where we come from. We are not allowed to know who we are. We are not allowed to know the story of our origins.

The government has this information. The government could give us this information. But no FOIA request seems likely to pry this information from the government.

If you want to help Adoptees get their records, please support the Adoptee Rights Demonstration (the badge and link is at the top of the sidebar). Attend the protest. Write letters to your state legislators. Do something.

I'm all for freedom of information. And Adoptees deserve their information, too.

The Dark Side of International Adoption

2009-03-09T12:45:00.001-07:00

Scott Carney wrote a piece on the case of a kidnapped boy in India who was adopted out to America for Mother Jones. It is an amazing (and heart-wrenching article. In case you haven't already heard about it, I thought I would share the link to the article here. And if you haven't read it yet, you should:

Meet the Parents: The Dark Side of Overseas Adoption

It is upsetting and awful and illustrates some of the worst in adoption. So be prepared.

Scott has continued to follow up on this case and writes about it on his blog. You can see the current post (and search through the rest of his blog): Meet the Parents: When Adoption Means Kidnapping.

It is good to see some work being done to bring this story to light. It's sad that the story exists at all.

Thank you to Scott for his work on this issue.

A Slap in the Face

2009-03-05T20:47:00.001-08:00

From the "devaluing motherhood" file...

Carla Bruni says she would adopt a child:

'I would like (to have a baby with my husband), but I don't know if at my age it would be possible,' the 41-year-old singer and former supermodel told Figaro Magazine.

'If it's not biologically possible, I'll adopt one,' she added. 'Adoption is perhaps the purist form of motherhood,' she added.

There are lots of things I would like, but the ones that aren't possible I don't try to force by taking it from someone else. But never mind that, I guess.

What really struck me about this was the "Adoption is perhaps the purist form of motherhood" crack. Really? How is adoption the purest form of motherhood? It's not the natural form of motherhood. There is no immediate connection, based on biology and nine months of biological dependence. There is no genetic tie.

Does she think those women who give birth to their children and raise them aren't really mothers? Is there motherhood somehow less pure?

People have such an amazing need to glorify adoption that they say completely ridiculous things. Whatever one thinks about adoption, whatever one thinks about the nature of adoptive parents, no one really believes that adoption is the purest form of motherhood, do they?

My Tribe

2009-03-03T21:14:00.001-08:00

I've been devouring the new edition of Betty Jean Lifton's Lost and Found: The Adoption Experience since getting it for my birthday. I could probably post whole chapters that speak to me, but I have no interest in violating copyright laws.

Still, something grabbed me today, and I need to post it.

Call them what you will - a pseudo-species, survivors, exceptions - adopted adults insist they feel outside the mainstream of human existence. Instead of asking "Who am I?" they ask "Who are we?" Speaking an emotional shorthand, they compare common traits in their adoptive parents as if they had emerged from a communal womb. They sound like brothers and sisters reminiscing about the family. The gravitational pull of their shared experience holds them together in their own private galaxy. Just as society has kept secrets from them, so they kept secrets from society. It is this private world of tribal secrets that binds them together in a new kind of kinship. Together they have a chance of discovering who they are. (p. 63)

I may have said this before, but bears repeating: I didn't know any other adoptees growing up. Not that I knew of, anyway. So when I started meeting adoptees at the beginning of my search a couple of years ago, I was shocked to discover that I wasn't alone. Others had had the same experience I had. Others felt the same about their adoption. Others felt just as lost and confused.

It was reassuring in a way that few things have been.

The Adoptees I've met in real life and on the web were instantly recognizable to me. I don't feel like I have to explain everything to them. They often seem to understand intuitively what I'm talking about.

Indeed, meeting Shelly was a weird experience. I told her about my search for no apparent reason. I didn't know she was an adoptee. But it just seemed that she might understand somehow.

Adoptees are definitely my people. And those of you who aren't one of us may never fully understand us. And there's a part of me that's jealous of that.