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My Birth Mother: A Victim?

Yesterday I came across this blog – another adoptee blog. In it, the author has written an entry about Korea and who – really – should take responsibility for the huge amount of children it’s sent overseas for adoption. As many people know, Korean overseas adoption really took off during the Korean war, and since then, has just… kept going. Korea has become rather notorious for being the country that puts many of its children up for adoption, and I am only one of thousands of us that have been sent away from Korea to a “wealthier” western country and society.

As many readers of this blog know, I have the tendency to have a bit of a love/hate relationship with my birth mother and the image in my head of the woman who brought me into this world. Although I don’t know her face-to-face, I still feel like I know her intimately (which is a strange feeling, mind you: feeling like you know a virtual stranger), despite not knowing her at all. One frustrating aspect of this is that even though I’m her flesh and blood, I don’t know what her specific situation was when she chose to give me up. I’ve often wondered things like: ‘did she just not want me to make her own life better?’; ‘was she forced or coerced into giving me up by her family and peers?’; ‘am I the result of an awful, abusive relationship: the result that she could never face ever again?’; or simply ‘was she a “victim” of Korea’s somewhat harsh Confucian society?’:

Neo-Confucianism defines formal social relations on all levels of society. Social relations are not conceived in terms of the happiness or satisfaction of the individuals involved, but in terms of the harmonious integration of individuals into a collective whole, which, like the properly cultivated individual, mirrors the harmony of the natural order. From here.

Even through my somewhat limited experience with Korean people and Korean families, it’s still obvious (after having lived in Australia all my life) that Koreans and Korean society still has a very strong idea of the “group mentality”: that everything you do is for the benefit of the whole family, not just yourself. I have trouble accepting this ideal, as it sort of clashes with my own upbringing and the values that have been passed on to me, not just through my parents, but simply through the values of western societies. In thinking about the Korean “way”, I can’t help but wonder about the effects that my birth and existence in the world would have had upon my birth family, not just mother. With their complete lack of understanding and respect toward single mothers and “illegitimate” children, along with their history, I can’t help but think that I would have only tarnished the appearance of my family. Perhaps my mother didn’t have a choice in giving me up…? Young Sook/Leanne said:

Yes, I was thrown away.  But was it by my parents?  I think I was thrown away by my country, through the design of others’ deceit.  I was severed from this country by foreign forces intervening in the delicate structure of a country at its most vulnerable.  In the minds of Korean parents at that time, their children were not being thrown away, but handed up.  Up to what?  No parents (my parents) would leave a child alone on the street, in the middle of the harsh Korean winter, if they hadn’t known HOLT was there collecting children to send to magic lands where the streets were lined with gold.

I’ve always said “yes, it was my mother that gave me up”, but… was it really only her? Or was it also the outside forces and the beliefs instilled in her, also, that prompted my adoption? Sometimes I say with defiance that my birth mother “only” gave me up for the betterment of her own life and her own happiness. And perhaps that is true, but did she do it for others, other than herself? Did she also do it for her/our family? Her parents, siblings, Grandparents?

Furthermore, is the industry and influence of adoption so strong, that unwed mothers in Korea really do feel like it’s the best thing for their children? Are they really given no other option, or are they really made to believe that adoption is the only option available to them in their moments of vulnerability and confusion? What if adoption didn’t exist? What then? Sometimes I can’t help but think that in adopting, adoptive parents are only encouraging adoption to continue, and in turn, encouraging mothers to give their children up and send them away from their birthright.

A few years ago, Robert and I lived in a suburb that was mostly populated by Korean people, and this was where I had exposure to the culture that I was sent away from. On the one hand, it was interesting, but on the other it was really quite confronting and it made me dislike and resent Korea (for reasons other than what I did as a child). It was sort of… harsh and I didn’t like feeling that I almost had to bow down to people that were older than me, despite their personalities, personal differences and the fact that I didn’t know them at all. It was hard living around people that looked like me and expected me to act just like them when I didn’t. And I didn’t like having strangers come up and ask me how old I was (Korean society, manners and relationships are based on age).

When I was a teenager, I rebelled more than my sister did. One thing I remember disliking were the “rules” that went with living under a family roof, and feeling like I couldn’t simply do “whatever I wanted” (yes, it was difficult as a 16 year old to just let my parents know where I was during the day). I’ve never liked being told what to do, and I like being able to make my own decisions in life. Yes, I’ve screwed up many times and gotten myself into strange situations that were (very) regrettable, but I’ve learnt from them and I feel like I’ve come out the other side OK. And I like feeling like I have responsibility and ownership for my life. In living amongst Korean people and a virtual Korean society, it felt like my teenage years all over again: being expected to succumb to inherent rules and expectations that I didn’t like, nor did I understand. Was my birth mother really just a victim to a society that didn’t tolerate difference and “illegitimate” children being brought into tight family units? Did she not have the luxuries I have today of independence, individuality and ownership of one’s own life? Would I have been a burden not only to her, but everyone I was acquainted with, also? Would I have simply brought shame down upon all whose blood I share? Is all of that really worth giving up your own flesh and blood for? Or did she really feel like she had no other choice?

I feel extremely conflicted with these thoughts and possibilities. Despite the fact that all these things are possible, and perhaps it softens my blow of opinion on my birth mother, but how am I supposed to deal with and handle that? Knowing I was shameful: a plague upon one’s house and household? In thinking about that, maybe it’s better that I was adopted? Have I really a more fortunate life here, knowing I’m not bringing shame on the people who care about me? It’s hard to accept that my birth mother could have “simply” been an innocent victim, caught up in a whirlwind and complex web of a harsh society and the pull of money and power because it has repercussions on me: me as a human being and my identity. It means that not only was I just a pox on her and her family, but that also the culture – the world – that I come from and I apparently love (to a degree) is also to blame for losing aspects of myself as a person that others simply have, inherently. There’s a bigger picture to the “simple” fact that a woman sent her child overseas: it brings into play many other people: people that are both alive and dead, along with a culture that is thousands of years old. It means that adoption isn’t as “simple” as a woman saying: “oh no, I’m pregnant! Bah, I’ll just give it up for adoption”, but it’s an issue and an industry that is plagued and riddled with manipulation, power-hungry humans and values that are foreign to me and who I am right now.

…and in the end, all I can really ask is: how are adoptees meant to handle that weight? As children and adults. How is all that to be reconciled?

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I Am Not Your Stereotypical Asian: I Fail At Mathematics!

Give me a topic and I’ll write you a 2000 word essay on it, no problem. Give me a simple maths equation and I’ll flounder around and freak out like a fish out of water. I have struggled with mathematics since the get go. My earliest memories of it include frustrated arguments between myself and my Mum as she’d try and help me with my primary maths homework. My sister (who is two years younger than me) would be standing by, saying “I know! I know!” before she’d even begun school. My family would spend more time explaining how change worked to me in Monopoly than they would actually playing the game.  Nowadays financial things are done by my husband (who is very good at maths, mind you) and I somehow avoid anything to do with numbers. They have simply never made sense to me.

I have recently been answering some questions for people doing research on adoptees. Normally I don’t really like the idea of being a “research specimen”, but I kind of think that the world needs more information and insight into adoptees, so I’m somewhat willing to help people out. One topic that has come up quite often is stereotypes. People have primarily asked what effect/s stereotypes have had on me as an adoptee. Normally people think of stereotypes and say: “they’re just stereotypes. Doesn’t mean you have to be that way” and other such things. And I agree: why should we be live up to stereotypical expectations? But it recently hit me: stereotypes have affected me all my life. They still do. Why? Well… because Asian stereotypes have (often) been the only example/s I can look to as to what Asian people are “meant” to be.

The problem with adoption is that no matter how good a person you are, if you adopt a child they’re not going to look like you. You might be a Nobel Prize winner, you might be an elite athlete, you might be the person who cures cancer, you might be the world’s most moral and ethical person. It doesn’t matter. Adoption means that the child is not going to look like the parents.When people adopt, it seems common to think things like: ‘We’re open to other cultures of the world’, ‘I don’t mind that my child won’t look like me. I’ll love them all the same’, ‘we live in a multicultural area’, ‘I have lots of Asian friends’… bla bla. That’s all fine and well. But Dr Phil isn’t lying when he harps on about parents being the primary role models for their kids. But being a role model isn’t always “just” about the things you do. It’s about who and what you are: the things that aren’t said.

Even at a very young age, whenever something was mentioned about genetics, outside appearance and physical traits and commonalities I remember thinking: ‘well that doesn’t apply to me because I don’t come from there’. But furthermore, the topic wouldn’t even have to be talked about. It was simply that whenever I looked at the people around me, I’d sub-consciously think: ‘their physical traits don’t apply to me. So what should I look like? What should I be like?’.

The “problem” with stereotypes is that regardless of whether they’re true or false, they can become the only thing adoptees have to “look up” to in terms of having something to identify with, particularly if we’re not constantly around other members of people of similar backgrounds. Although I’ve always known I’m not good at mathematics, the stereotype and assumption that Asian people are good at such actually became a pressure that I felt I had to live up to. It might sound stupid, but it was a reality for me to quietly think to myself: ‘what’s wrong with me? Why am I the only Asian person who’s bad at maths?’.

I guess that when you don’t have “real” people around you to refer to, you just start looking at whatever you can to build an identity around what you know you are, inherently.

I think the other big one is body image. Asian people seem to have this stereotype for being small, thin and frail. Sometimes “exotic”. I think this stereotype is more dangerous than the academia one. I have known people to have serious eating disorders throughout my life and so I have had experience with the health risks eating disorders pose. And although I haven’t ever had one, I believe I’ve felt a pressure that others haven’t. I don’t look at western magazines and think I have to be like the skinny, Photoshopped celebrities. But I have looked at the Asian celebrities and wondered whether that’s really what “all” Korean people are like. If so, is that how I’m meant to be? Again, it may sound ridiculous, and you may be inclined to say: “the people in the magazines aren’t real. They’re dolled up, Photoshopped and changed”… but when you haven’t anyone else to look to that shares your biological traits, who do you look to?

There are many, but for me this is one of the reasons why I’ve told adoptive parents that love isn’t *really* enough when it comes to adopting a child. I think it’s very easy for adoptive parents to be confronted and even offended when we say that love simply isn’t enough, but I think people underestimate how strong a biological example can be when you’re growing up. Again, I think that’s the paradox and somewhat contradictory issue with adoption: people adopt with their good intentions and all the love in the world, yet no matter what they do, it’s not really enough…

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Understanding: A Challenge for all Parents, Adoptive or Not

Arg. I’m really failing at keeping this blog updated regularly. I’m developing quite the backlog of unfinished posts in WordPress, and I keep thinking of things to update with, but just don’t manage to get them finished. So to any readers that have been hopeful for new posts, I’m sorry about my absence.

One of the most commonly used phrases in my vocabulary is “I don’t understand”. And I’m certain my husband would agree! For me, this sentence/outburst applies to many things. Recently, it’s applied significantly to Sunday’s naming ceremony that I wrote about previously. Since I was a child, it’s applied greatly to all sorts of mathematics. LOL. And it often refers to my husband’s family (most recently, the fact that my husband’s own mother has chosen not to come to his upcoming 30th birthday event). Today we went to my sister’s (first) university graduation. It was a wonderful day and the ceremony was followed by a lunch on Sydney Harbour. One of the speeches during the graduation ceremony had something in it about a “search for knowledge”. It just made me think about knowledge in a wider sense – the search for knowledge outside of an academic context. Despite the fact that I have two university degrees, I don’t learn particularly well within a school/uni environment.

But I’m still always on the search for new knowledge, and I love learning new things. But I love learning new things through experience and immersion, part of the reason why going to Korea will provide me with so much more than what I can gain from reading books and even watching things on YouTube and listening to them on podcasts. Yes, modern technology is great, nowadays, but I still don’t think it’s the same as really experiencing something for yourself.

Like I said recently, my cousin had a baby about a month ago. This child has an extremely mixed background. She’s a quarter Malaysian, a lot Caucasian (don’t ask me of the percentage), with who-knows-how-much Aboriginality. It seems a very eclectic mix, and I can’t help but notice the attempts they’re going to to incorporate the child’s background (even though it confuses the rest of us) into her life. It would be very confusing for a mix like this, and as a bystander, it’s confusing to know what they’re doing, exactly, but on the other hand, I can totally understand why.

About three to four months ago, I received a heap of paperwork that directs me where to “go” in the next phase of my birth mother search. It included a heap of information about Korea, its culture, language etc. I guess it was put in there, in the assumption that I didn’t know the first thing about my “motherland”, due to having been adopted and raised in a different country. In a way, this sort of made me feel a bit bummed. Not toward any “fault” of the Department here that provides me with assistance, but just because it was a bit of a slap in the face. It was kind of like it was saying: “in being adopted, you’ve had a chunk of your identity taken away from you. Let us attempt to give a little of it back to you”. Ouch.

With a lot of people my age around me getting pregnant and having babies, I can’t help but consider important things I’d like to do if/when Robert and I have a family. Last year I decided that it’d be nice to do things for certain Korean events, such as Chuseok and Seollal (Lunar New Year). Why? I guess because I’ve come to accept that I’ll always be Korean. LOL. It may seem obvious, but it’s a pretty big thing to accept when you’ve spent such a long time trying to deny it. So why not embrace it? I feel that if we have our own family one day, I’d probably try and make an even more definite point of these events that are an integral part of Korean society and culture.

I didn’t grow up with a lot of Korean knowledge or Korean customs. It’s had to be a conscious decision, on my part, to incorporate it into my life. But I’ve come to realise the importance of having an understanding of one’s cultural/racial background: regardless of how aware of it we are, racial background makes up a huge part of who we are as individuals, and it’s really not something you can/should ignore: it’s ignoring a part of what makes you you. Growing up in Australia, I was taught and surrounded by Australian history, European history and the histories/backgrounds of my adopted families. But these histories and sets of knowledge have never really resonated with me. When Kevin Rudd gave his apology speech to the Aboriginal people of Australia a few years ago, I don’t think I could have been more indifferent, because although I live here, I just didn’t/don’t feel connected. However, when Japan apologised to Korea last year for the oppression they put the people of Korea through in World War II, I actually felt something: an affiliation and soft spot for “my people”. It was a strange feeling, really…

In being married to a Caucasian guy, I’m quite happy with the fact that any children we may have will simply be half Korean and half Caucasian. I feel that with the current knowledge and understandings we have about our backgrounds (well… Robert’s pretty indifferent when it comes to this sort of stuff), we’d have enough to pass on to them; to help them develop secure senses of self, without having to wonder about it later on in life.

But I definitely feel that it’s important to have an understanding of where you come from. Having an understanding of your background, I feel, is kind of like the roots that trees and plants have – it’s the foundation for an individual identity and sense of self. “Normal” people, I feel, don’t really need to think about it. Their backgrounds are things that are just lived day by day. In being born wholly Australian, Robert (for example) lives his background, and it’s simply a part of everyday life. Whereas this is something that we adoptees miss out on (and is probably a huge reason as to why many of us yearn to (and do) go back to our original countries), and so we have to try and make up for it in any way we can. I don’t like having to learn Korean via podcasts and text books; I don’t like seeing people of non-Korean heritage knowing and understanding the language I should be fluent in; nor do I like having to sit in (mostly) silence around my Korean friends, simply because I haven’t lived the lives of Korean people that they have.

I guess this can be a challenge for adoptive parents, because it’s probably like making something from nothing. But it’s the challenge they have chosen. And I don’t think it’s one that should be avoided, simply because they now have a child and the family they’ve wanted. As a parent, I believe it’s your job to encourage your kids to grow up healthy and sure of themselves. And I really do feel that in order to do this, you need to give kids a solid understanding of where they come from. Let them decide whether or not they like it, but at least give them the options to choose.

In other news, I could make a whole post about this, but I think it’s all pretty self-explanatory:

I really hope I don’t “have to” make a whole post on this…

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What Does it Take to BE a Member of a Nationality? Choosing to Adopt a Nationality VS Not Choosing

Robert and I have been casually watching this year’s Winter Olympics. I’m not normally into any sort of sporting events, but there’s not much on Australian TV nowadays, so we often end up having the Olympics on. Plus, my new boss is heavily into the hockey and is very Canadian, so it’s been impossible to avoid hearing about how Canada’s going in the hockey! One thing I’ve noticed, though, is that Korea’s not too bad at the Winter sports, particularly the speed skating. Almost every speed skating event I’ve seen has featured a Korean skater, and I can’t help but go for Korea. More so than Australia. Whenever someone Australian’s competing, I find myself to be very… indifferent. But when Korea’s competing, I actually get interested in the event and watch to see how they go. It’s weird, but that’s just what my reaction’s been the past couple of weeks.

When I was thinking about it today, I made a Facebook status that was something along the lines of: Is it bad that I go for Korea more than I do Australia in the Winter Olympics? One of my friends said that she goes for Korea more than she does the US (she’s American). Funny thing about that is… (as far as I know) there’s not a drop of Korean in her. Emily has been studying Korean much longer than I have. And I think she even went to Korea a month or so ago. As far as I know, one of her primary interests is Korea, and it’s almost as if she considers herself Korean. Or at least partially. A similar person is Matthew. I was chatting to him over email sometime last year, and in a similar way to Emily, it’s like he almost considers himself Korean, even though he’s American.

On the surface, I’ve always found this attitude sort of funny. Sometimes I see people like this, and I want to say to them: “why don’t you just accept who you are? Why bother putting in all the effort to be something you’re just… not?” That’s nice that you have an interest in Korea and all, but… aren’t you going a bit far? But then I thought about it… and thought: ‘well, really… what’s the difference between me and them?… Why is it weird when we see caucasian people attempting to assimilate into an Asian culture, but it’s almost just accepted the other way round?’ What does it mean to be a member of a particular nation? A country? A people?

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Who is Really Doing the Adopting in Adoption?

Aside from it being Valentine’s Day this weekend, it’s also the Lunar New Year, or Seollal (pronounced Son-nal) in Korea. Until recently, my family has sometimes done things with my aunt, uncle and cousins because my uncle’s Malaysian. They’ve usually held big parties and such for it (which I’m not too fond of, ’cause I’m not really one for big parties). It’s always been something they’ve celebrated, and it’s always been “their” thing, when it comes to my extended family. I’ve always sort of felt like it’s never really had anything to do with us. I mean, why would it? No one’s Chinese in our family.

But the Lunar New Year isn’t only a Chinese thing. It’s also one of the largest Korean holidays. And it’s celebrated quite widely, as a part of Korean culture. We haven’t done anything this year (being Valentine’s Day and all. This year Robert and I have a nice brunch on the water organised. Hallmark holiday or not, I really like V-day.^^), but it’s something I actually intend to start doing something for. Even if it just means going to a Korean restaurant somewhere and having dinner. Why? Because I’m Korean. That’s all.

Adoption is normally defined as:

To take on or assume.

Pretty simple, yeah? Normally when a couple adopts a child, it’s assumed that the child takes on the culture and life their adoptive parents lead/live. Like most of us, we’re the ones who have to take on the culture we’ve been brought into; we have to learn the language of our new country; we have to grow up being… whatever it is we’ve been newly introduced to and just accept it as our lives. We’re expected to “just be happy” with our new surrounds and families. I guess because most of us are adopted when we’re very young, and like any baby, adopted or not, we don’t really have much in the way of choice.

But as another Seollal passes, it has me wondering why it was never celebrated as a Korean thing while I was growing up. Why is it that we adoptees are basically forced to be the only ones to really adopt anything when it’s our parents that have done the adopting in the first place? Really… why is it that it doesn’t work the other way? Why haven’t our adoptive parents thought to adopt our cultures? Our histories? Our backgrounds? Why is that of less importance than our adoptive cultures and lives?

In the documentary part of Adopted the Movie, I’ll never forget some of the advice that was given to people considering transracial adoption. They said something like:

When you adopt a child of colour, you become a family of colour.

I’ve never forgotten that. I guess because it’s a great way of thinking about things, and it’s a great way of putting things I felt as a child into words. And it begs the question: why shouldn’t adoptive parents partially adopt their child’s background culture/heritage? Why is it normally just the adoptee that’s supposed to make their adoptive culture their own? Why shouldn’t it work the other way round?

In my situation, sure, I’m the only adopted child – I’m the only one with Korean background. But still… does that mean it should just be ignored? Is my background of less importance, simply because I’m the only one with it? Where does that leave my history? My ancestors? Why is it that I’ve had to have consideration for my adoptive families’ backgrounds, histories and ancestors, when mine have never really even been acknowledged?

Like I’ve said before, I don’t like the word “adoption”. I think it implies and assumes too many things, and it often has a negative connotation on us adoptees. Maybe it’s taken for my generation of adoptees to grow up and voice our opinions and feelings for certain things to be known about what it really means to be adopted. But I certainly feel sometimes, that being adopted means that part of us has practically been erased. And I think that’s kind of sad.

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