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Race Matters

Well, at 27 years old, I can say quite confidently that I am:

~Possibly the world’s biggest dag;

~A confessed book nerd. I would rather spend money on books than clothes;

~A spelling nazi. I can spot a spelling mistake from a few kilometres away (well… maybe not quite that far!);

~A nerd. A nerd that would prefer to spend her Friday and Saturday nights at home feeling comfortable with a book than out on the town;

~Anti-social. I really dislike social events. Mainly ones that require being around a lot of people I don’t know;

~NOT a workaholic. I like to go home and not have to think about what I do from 9-5

…and I’m sure there are many more.

The saying “just be yourself” has become something of a cliche in our western societies. And although it has some nice connotations, it’s definitely one of those things that’s much more easily said than done. It has taken me 27 years to accept the above list of things about myself. Ten years ago, I was struggling to be something I’m just not: social, loud, attractive, popular, grammatically stupid. There’s no place more like high school that teaches you the contrary to “just be yourself”. But you know what? I have struggled to “just be myself”. And a lot of the time, that’s still not good enough for a lot of people, but I’m kind of over caring.

You know what I love about being around my Mum, Dad and sister? Is the feeling that I can just be myself. And things like my racial heritage and hobbies don’t really matter. I mean, I like having somewhat intellectual discussions about books and (stupid) people (LOL), but it’s nice to think I’m not being judged purely on those things. And that’s great. I’m sure that’s something my parents strived to achieve in having children: a place where their kids can feel accepted and loved (awww). And I’m sure many adoptive parents have this same sentiment in mind. Why wouldn’t you? But unfortunately, the outside world just isn’t this way, and it can be a bit of a contradiction to the values you’re being taught when you’re an adoptee of a different race to those around you behind closed doors.

One adoptive parent recently wrote about her frustrations with the things people say in regards to race and racial difference. It seems she got a little annoyed, saying how race shouldn’t really matter because we’re all human: why does it matter what piece of land we all come from? And that’s a nice thought and sentiment. It really is. But I think that what a lot of adoptive parents fail to realise and accept is that as much as it sucks, that’s just the way the world is. Furthermore, race does matter, and I don’t agree with telling this to children. Why? Because as soon as we walk out our front doors, we’re taught that it does matter, and we realise later on that it matters, because it makes up for a huge part of the people we are. Like it or not, race partially defines who we are as human beings. Yes, it might suck, yes it might make people uncomfortable, but it matters. Colour blindness is just that: blindness. It’s ignorance and it’s a failing to accept the world for what it is. Colour blindness doesn’t make you more moral than the person next to you who thinks otherwise. You’re not doing the world a favour by adopting a child. Adopting a child from a different country doesn’t mean you’re making some huge change to the world. Regardless of whether or not you adopt, the world is going to keep on spinning, and people are going to be just as narrow-minded as they always were.

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Speculation: What Has Adoption Given Me? What Has it Made Me?

Warning: this post is pure speculation and assumption. I haven’t done any background academic reading, nor have I even thought about this topic with other adoptees in mind. It is based purely on my own thoughts that have gone around in my head on my 3km (one way) walk to and from work everyday in the freezing cold. So excuse me if it comes off as complete and utter baloney. It could just be my brain freezing everyday. LOL.

*****

It was my birthday on Saturday. My 27th. I feel very old. LOL. But aside from feeling old, it was a nice, relaxing one, spent with my family. We had a BBQ, Robert made a honeycomb house and I got lots of books and other things. =D Despite the fact that I’m only getting older (who isn’t?), I was never one to dislike birthdays. And as a child, I never thought about my adoption or my birth mother or anything. It’s only been recently that I’ve begun to wonder: ‘hey, does my birth mother think about me on my birthday?’. As a child, my birthday was the second best day of the year. Second only to Christmas. It was a day all about me and the day that I got lots of presents and got to eat cake and feel special. I think this is what it is for many children, and in my opinion, that’s what they should be about for children: days of excitement and presents and balloons and wishes. As a child, I used to blow out my candles and wish I could fly like a bird. =P A simple, childhood wish. But there were never any about adoption or Korea. Which – I think – is a pretty good sign that my parents were doing something right.

I am usually making rather depressing and sad posts on this blog. And it’s so common for adoptees to focus on what they’ve lost by having been adopted. But I’ve been thinking about the type of person adoption has made me, as I believe it has really affected and influenced the way I think and act.

When I was a school student (at various ages), I remember watching and experiencing certain things my peers at school would do, not understand their reasons for doing such, then go home and say to my Mum: “why did such-and-such do this? Don’t they think it’s just going to… (insert-repercussions-of-actions-here)”. My Mum would answer with things like: “people don’t think. They’ll learn when they grow up“. Which is all very well. So for most of my childhood, I found myself thinking: ‘oh that’s stupid. I can’t wait ’til I’m in my 20s, ’cause then hopefully people won’t be so stupid’. (Bah. So much for that!) But ultimately, I think adoption has given me some sort of ability to think, and to think about things in a way that others don’t. I thought this was normal, but I don’t think it is, and after having read the blogs of lots of other adoptees, it seems we have this in common.

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Protected: Childhood Memories Part 1.5

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Childhood Memories Part I

I have been quite absent from this blog lately. Robert and I got back the other night from a small holiday and work trip (for me) in Melbourne. So I’m only just getting over feeling rather pooped. I also got up insanely early yesterday and went and waited outside the Apple store to purchase a new iPhone 4 (who needs a life, anyway? LOL). So that didn’t do much for my recovery, either. But oh well. Sometimes new, shiny things like iPhones are just too tempting. =P

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Anywho, I noticed the other day a few school mentionings by Melinda. And as well as her writings, writing this memoir/novel/thing (that hasn’t been touched in over a week. Not good. Not good at all) has also pulled up some memories like radishes being pulled from the ground in me. So I thought I’d make a few posts about my childhood when particular memories are brought up.

I wouldn’t say I had an unhappy childhood. Quite the contrary, really. My home/family life was one that other kids would probably envy. And Christmases and birthdays were gold. But I don’t only get the warm and fuzzies when I think back to my childhood. Like everything, it definitely wasn’t perfect. And I think school experiences had a lot to do with that imperfection. But no one has a perfect childhood, life or school experience. So why is it different for anyone that’s adopted?

I think adoption is slowly growing in awareness. Which, I guess, is a good thing. Sort of. But when I was a child, I think it was severely overlooked. School topics that are usually “simple” no-brainers became (almost) rather traumatic for me and only increased any shame I may have felt in myself and the differences I had with my family.

I trained to be a primary school teacher a couple of years ago (even though I’m not in the area anymore). And I was sad to see that the curriculum here hasn’t really changed that much since I was five years old. As part of my prac (while I was still a uni student), I had to teach a unit of work on family to kindergarten students, and it still made me wince. Thankfully, all the kids in that particular class were all “of” their natural families, and none of them seemed to have any issues at explaining where their families originated from in the world. But I know that had I been in that situation when I was their age, I would have been devastated.

“Family” seems like a pretty basic, regular topic for young children at school. I mean, it’s pretty relevant. It’s a natural part of understanding themselves, so why shouldn’t it be a part of the school curriculum? It plays a pretty large part in NSW’s (and probably the rest of Australia’s) syllabus. I think it’s the teachers, though, that need to be the people who facilitate their students’ learning in this area. I think there are lots of teachers that approach this subject with little sensitivity, assuming that it’s obvious, so “all” kids need to do is get up and talk about their families. It should be a cinch, right?

But as the world goes on, I think this is a subject that should have more awareness around it. Adoptees are not the only kids now who live in “unconventional” families. And we shouldn’t really assume anymore that we’re all of the “normal” nuclear family, y’know, with a mother, father and siblings.

I – like many children – had to endure the “studying” of our families and origins. I don’t think there have been many other times in which I’ve felt more uncomfortable as those moments when I was sitting on the classroom floor, listening to my teacher/s talk about origin and relatives. I remember wanting to just sink into a hole and die, while other kids around me eagerly raised their hands to tell the class about how they were born in Sydney and their Mums had them at such-and-such a time of the day; how they look like their Dads, but not their Mums; how their siblings both have blonde hair; how their parents cook food from their cultural heritages… bla bla bla bla bla. Now maybe I could have been the only one in the class, but it’s obvious that teachers bring up this topic with little consideration into any other kids that might be anything but “normal”. And what better way of making those kids feel even more ashamed of themselves than by focusing so heavily on the “normal”? (Whatever that is.) Seriously… isn’t that the last thing that children should feel: weird? The odd one out? Not normal? Not like everyone else?

Things might be different now. Sure. Sure, I don’t like it when people assume things of me, or overlook things of me and my experiences as an adopted person, but I’m also 26 (27 in a couple of weeks). I’m not five. And isn’t that young age the one that adults are meant to look out for? There’s such a huge uproar nowadays about paedophilia and child abuse. And I’m not saying that adoption comes anywhere near those things, but shouldn’t teachers and most adults that have anything to do with kids, be a little more sensitive to those that may not be the stereotypical?

Honestly, I think my heart would break to know that a child I had (or was in my care as a teacher) had felt as though they just wanted to shrivel up and die simply from being at school: a place where they’re meant to feel safe, welcome and a valued member of the class community. Why should we feel condemned at such a young age simply from having been adopted? Sure, you may read this and think: ‘what’s the big deal? It’s just learning about family’, but when you’re five, six, seven… it’s a huge deal. It’s a huge deal to realise that you’re not like those around you and that there’s something different about you. Something that makes you almost less of a person than them. Why should school make us wonder what others have that we don’t? Like I’ve said a lot on here, realisations around adoption come surprisingly easy to children. I had these feelings and realisations at ages where parents like to think their kids are just having a great time. Instead, I was going to school everyday hating it because there was nowhere else that said to me: “there’s something wrong with you”. Is that how children are meant to feel? Obviously, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with me now… but that’s come from a whole life of a lot of thinking, wondering and experiencing: stuff that’s been overly time consuming.

Here are some thoughts that used run through my mind regularly when I was a primary school child:

~’What can I say today that will make people think I’m just like them? What can I say that will make up for the fact that I don’t look like my family?’

~’Maybe if I just sit over here, people won’t see me and they won’t ask things… but then I’ll be a loner and I’ll be made fun of, and then people will say things even more. What can I do to fit in? To be popular so people don’t ask me things?’

~’If I went to a different school to my sister, people wouldn’t ask/assume things.’

~’If I only wasn’t Asian, I wouldn’t have any problems.’

~’I wish I had white skin so I could do the family unit without any problems.’

~’What’s a good reason as to why I can’t bring in anything to do with my family?’

…and the list goes on.

Reading these, it would seem as though I’m overtly ashamed of my family. But I think ultimately, it was about being ashamed of myself. Because I was the one that was different: I was the one that stood out like a sore thumb. I was the one that needed “fixing”. Asian. Korean. Adopted. Three things I hated so much as a child. Because it was these three things that made me stand out, when all I wanted was to be like everyone else around me. At home and at school. School, because that’s where people didn’t know me, and it’s where they judged and assumed things of me: made me different and weird.

Like I said, teachers need to have more sensitivity toward their students, even when they think that a topic they’re teaching seems somewhat simple and trivial. I hated school all the way along. And I often wondered why/how there were people that actually liked it. But thinking back to my earliest school days, it’s not really hard to see why…

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Belonging and Isolation

This may be one of my last public posts for a while. At the risk of sounding ridiculously over-dramatic, I believe I am still linked on this “Family Petey” blog, regardless of my post asking to please be removed from it, or to be given access to it. Although protecting many posts would probably be hypocritical and going against the ideal that adoption information and insights should be shared amongst many people involved with adoption, I am somewhat annoyed to be excluded from a blog when it’s clearly obvious that I’m being spoken about. I don’t appreciate it, I think it’s rude and it’s also disrespectful. If these people have access to my experiences and thoughts, I feel it’s only fair to be given access to their blog, or at least have contact details of them. It’s not always easy to confront adoption issues and feelings, nor is it easy to make them available to complete strangers. So I won’t be making the entirety of this blog protected, but I will probably make a lot more posts protected, at least for a while. For those that are human enough to treat me as such, please don’t hesitate to contact me for said password. And I thank those that do treat me as anything but an information machine and for talking about and sharing your adoption journeys and stories with me. I think that’s what families should be about. At least partially.

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Anyway, today I read this article here about quite a large adopted family, and the adoptees’ experiences in going back to Korea. In it, they mention the idea that we adoptees don’t really fit in anywhere. We don’t really fit in with our Caucasian societies, but it can be even worse when we merely attempt to assimilate with those of our natural heritage:

“She’s just a white girl; a banana; she doesn’t really get it; Maree is brainwashed and really not like us,” were some of the things her Asian peers used to describe her, Maree said.

I – along with many other adoptees, I’m sure – can totally relate to this sentiment. And I’ve written about it in here quite often. I think it is possibly one of the worst things about being adopted: not *really* belonging anywhere. Sure, we “belong” with the people that love us etc, but really, that only goes for when we’re inside our comfortable homes. Once we step out our front doors, it’s a completely different story. People don’t know us, so we just automatically “belong” in whatever groups we look like. And that goes for everyone, adopted or not. What’s different from adoptees is that we don’t truly belong in the groups we look like. Nor is belonging in those groups something we can “just” learn. I cannot walk into a Korean person’s home, automatically begin speaking the language and “doing” the “normal” Korean customs and ways. I’m not going to lie: I hate coming up against Korean people. I hate the feeling I get when they speak to me in Korean, expect me to speak back, then get completely perplexed when I don’t. I hate the looks I get, and I hate the obvious assumptions that are so loud in my ears without them saying a word at all. Truly, I hate it.

Equally, I hate it when people that aren’t Korean make the same assumptions of me, only… backwards. I hate it when they ask me if I speak Korean. I hate it when they look at me when I speak in perfect, unbroken English. And I hate it when they say racist things in front of me without even knowing it.

Hate. Yes, it’s a strong word, but there you go. Sometimes I hate being adopted for these things. For not belonging to any one group.

‘Who cares?’ you think. ‘Just be yourself’ you think. HA. You try “being yourself” when “yourself” isn’t up to par with everyone’s standards. I don’t hate myself, but I wouldn’t say I’m perfectly happy with myself, either. Sometimes it’s like constantly wearing clothes that just don’t fit you. Are you going to walk around in clothes that are overly tight, loose or just plain uncomfortable? No. But luckily for you, clothes can be stripped off to be changed for others. Your skin and outside appearance can’t. Not without a lot of pain, anyway.

Quite frankly, this not-belonging thing is tiring and lonesome. (And I wonder why I’m such a homebody? *Scoff*) I honestly just tire of it. And I wish I could “just” be like everyone else, at times.

So… where do adoptees belong?

You know what I wish sometimes? Sometimes I think to myself: ‘how wonderful would it be: for all the interracial adoptees in the world to come together, go find some uninhabited island and populate it: create our very own race of people that look like something, but are completely different on the outside’. As unrealistic as that is, it’s a crazy fantasy, but it would be great. And truthfully, I think adoptees – in some sense – belong with other adoptees. I mean, what makes people of one race “belong” at all? Isn’t it because they share a set of experiences, outside appearances and cultural understandings? Yes, yes and yes, I’d say. Who shares adoptees’ unique experiences in life: other adoptees, right? Really, it comes down to this sharing thing. For me, Korean people can’t really relate past my external appearance. Sure, I have the “squinty”, Asian eyes; the dark hair; the short stature; the pale-ish skin… but underneath, what do I have? I have understandings of A, B, C;  eating with knives and forks; surviving on pasta, steak and BBQs; and the list goes on… I don’t wholly share anything with anyone… except for other adoptees.

Following my recent post on siblings, wouldn’t it, therefore, make sense to adopt more than one child? And if you’re not doing as such, at least have a lot to do with other adopted families? I mean, think about your own life: you live your culture day by day: it’s something you don’t think about as you drive to work everyday, talk to your colleagues everyday and go shopping. Why should anything be different for adoptees? Why should we be reminded of our adoptions all the time? Why shouldn’t we have the luxury of just… not having to think about it and be reminded of our differences everyday? Why shouldn’t we have lots of people around us who have just inherently shared our experiences of the world and our lives?

Food for thought? Maybe… for newly adoptive parents. But where does that leave us “old” adoptees? To just go mad over our inherent isolation? Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just quit my job, go live in the sticks and write in an emo corner for the rest of my life. Sounds pretty good to me. =P 

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