Starting in 2022, we asked adoptees on our social media platforms to submit one thing they would want to highlight during National Adoption/ee Awareness Month. Thank you to all the adoptees who have worked to make this page possible and thank you to our readers for taking the time to hear their stories and experiences.
I have struggled in the past with abandonment. I always wondered why. Why would they give me up? Was I not good enough? Who were my bio parents? I not knowing was the hardest part. I did a DNA test to help with some of the unknown (medical, genetics, etc). I have also had an amazing support system and talking to them helped me process the emotions I was feeling. Having a good support system also helped me realize that without my adoption I would've never met these people who mean so much to me.
The hardest part about being an adoptee is noticing the intersection between race and my adoptee status, but knowing the general public has no understanding. Being adopted means that I can escape ignorant comments that I also hear because I’m black (ex: I know an adopted person, so I understand adoption). This is similar to saying, “I know a black person, so I’m not racist.” It can be so frustrating to hear this because a “relationship WITH” someone doesn’t equate to an “understanding of” that persons life hardship. Part of my platform addresses incorporating discussion around adoption and how race and ethnicity can complicate things. I hope that one day people can come to understand this community, but until then, the work continues.
I believe that the most common conflict an adoptee faces is the feeling of rejection and unimportance. People say “at least somebody choose to adopt you” without the thought that somebody also choose to abandon me. This never bothered me when I was younger, but once I began high school, everything I thought about was being the unwanted friend and last chosen. I struggled with this for about a year until I realized it was about who you surrounded yourself with that makes you feel like that. Avoid the kind of people that judge other people without actually knowing them, the kind of people who wouldn’t help somebody they didn’t know at school. I found myself surrounding myself with people who freely helped and showed kindness to everybody, who were accepting to all and any. The people you spend your time around, changes the way you see yourself.
I am struggling with my identity of what I could have been if I wasn’t adopted. What my life would be like and how different it might have been if wasn’t adopted and what my life could’ve been in China instead of the US. But how I manage to work through it is by cherishing the little moments and know I have people who care about me and being in the present looking forward to what life brings me instead of looking backwards and how a life would’ve been if I wasn’t adopted.
When I was a child, I was extremely sensitive about my adoption. My parents always discussed it with me, but the topic itself always pushed me over the edge, and I would burst into tears. As I got older, I began to compartmentalize the vast range of emotions conjured up by my adoption. I remember a particular experience in high school where a kid was being a bully and asking the usual intrusive questions meant to get a rise out of me. “Where are your real parents?” “Why’d they give you up?” This kid’s friends were clearly uncomfortable and told him subtly to stop, for their own self-preservation and not out of sympathy for me. I remember feeling myself getting choked up, and felt tears coming, but I somehow compartmentalized my feelings at that moment and pretended that everything was fine. Looking back now, I started to unhealthily view this moment as a sign of my “maturity.” I spent the rest of high school and the entirety of my college years believing that I was “over it” and at peace with my status as an adoptee. I would tell people I was adopted, but I would never actually share anything about it with them. I’d just say, “it’s fine.” Despite the compartmentalization strategy I was using, I would have sudden little “reality checks” in which I was reminded that I was adopted and had a lot of mixed feelings attached to it. Things like a doctor asking for my family history, or friends discussing what they were like as newborns, even sitting in a genetics class in college would always remind me. I’d feel a pang and think, “oh yeah, I’m adopted.” I would then get angry at the situation and inwardly think that people around me who triggered the reminder of my adoptee status were being insensitive. When that happened I would remind myself that they weren't doing it intentionally and compartmentalize again. No one ever knew that I was struggling emotionally for maybe even less than a minute. I barely even knew. I would just berate myself and force myself to believe I was fine and that I had no right being upset about my situation. I kept suppressing my emotions around my adoption until about two years ago. As I previously stated, my parents have always been very open about discussing my adoption. They've made a few mistakes here and there in regards to some of my mental health struggles that stem from being an adoptee, but they never tried to hide my adoption. I know that I’m privileged to have a family that I feel comfortable and safe discussing adoption related topics. Despite my parents’ openness with me, I still compartmentalized, and would even tell them that the one sure aspect of my life that didn't bother me was my adoption. Going back to two years ago, I was helping my dad go through old video tapes he had from my childhood, and digitally converting them onto my computer. I distinctly remember sitting alone in my room and finding a video of the day I was handed over to my parents in a hotel hallway in China. I’d seen an edited version of the video for most of my life, but it was cut down to perhaps a three minute clip that only showed the “highlights.” But what I found was hours of footage of my entire adoption process in China. As I watched the videos, I began sobbing. I watched as my parents cradled me as I belted out loud and mournful cries in their arms. I spent hours watching all the videos, feeling a range of emotions. This was without a doubt the most emotion I’ve ever physically expressed about being an adoptee in my adult life. After that I began to understand that it was okay to have mixed emotions about my adoption. I’m not claiming that I’m completely open and never compartmentalize, because I’m not and that's a work in progress. But I’m able to have those little reminders that I am an adoptee, I give myself a chance to sit with my thoughts. They're mixed and can be uncomfortable, but I’ve realized that it's normal to feel that way.
How do you instill national pride into your child? How do you make sure your child grows up with a sense of identity and self assurance? I don't know. What I heard growing up was how bad China is. “China is communist. If you lived in China, you'd be put in a factory. Your mom didn’t want you cause you weren't a boy. You're lucky to be here.” Yet, I was never American to anyone. I was always just the Chinese child. As any child would, I rationalized that as I’m Chinese, therefore I am bad. Children long to feel like they belong somewhere. Where did I belong? Too Chinese to be American. Too white to be Chinese. My therapist asked me what validation from my parents would look like and I couldn't give her an answer. She cried for me. For so long I’ve been yearning for my parent's validation. Real emotional personal validation. I have recently come to conclusion I don’t need my parent’s validation. I’m still trying to accept that but I’m learning to lean into the love and acceptance of my new family — my husband and our pets — who support me unconditionally.
I've struggled with the idea that the identity I have is not my own. I've largely felt pushed around and unable to stand up for myself. Over the past few years, I've made a concentrated effort in reclaiming my identity. The first thing I did was change my first, middle, and last name to something I felt proud to carry. The second thing I did was choose my own family and cut ties with toxic family members who had no interest in sharing my life. The thing I am struggling through right now healing my inner child and allowing myself to be free. I no longer need to be bogged down my restrictive parents or feel guilty for needing to choose myself.
At first, I was very excited to get married to my partner I had been with for years before bringing in all the complicated family dynamics. With being in reunion with my biological families, it soon became very overwhelming. Just how many adoptees tend to feel, I felt like I was trying to please many family members, instead of saying and doing what I wanted. I thought that for my wedding to be the perfect day, I needed all my bio and adoptive families there, which included some bio family members I hadn’t seen in years. This put a lot of pressure and stress on me for months. How was I going to mend these relationships, see them before the wedding when they live out of state, and invite them to the wedding all within a few months? I wasn't even sure if I wanted to change the boundaries of the relationships either. My partner helped me work through this and helped me realize that reconnecting with and inviting them might not be realistic in a short time frame. I realized I had to do what was best for myself, even though it was difficult. Outside of just deciding who to invite, the planning and wedding came with awkward moments and conflicting emotions. Even wedding dress shopping, my adoptive mother's emotions and comments created some uncomfortable moments. I was frustrated that I couldn't even have a 'normal' dress shopping moment. I also wish I wasn't involved in some conversations where my bio mom and adoptive mom were trying to resolve this title of being the ‘mother of the bride’ by my bio mom being respectful of my adoptive mom or my adoptive mom saying, ‘no, we both are’. Fortunately, the big celebration was amazing, and my bio and adoptive moms were supportive in wanting it to be what I wanted and were very helpful. I also left a strict, organized religion I grew up in, which was a very difficult decision. For some adoptees, including myself, I tried to be the perfect kid or the ‘biological kid’ my parents wanted. Leaving the religion disappointed my parents. I was afraid of some judgement from my adoptive families for not getting married in the church, along with some other choices at the wedding. Fortunately, my parents and partner were supportive of me choosing what I wanted. I also did not feel much judgement from religious extended family members, and the day really was perfect and a beautiful moment with loved ones. Major life events as an adoptee can be very complex and overwhelming and are a reminder that you are adopted. The most important thing I must keep reminding myself, is to think of myself first. Over the years in reunion, I catered to others’ feelings and bundled emotions inside too many times. It’s important to stand up for myself and to remind others that adoption is primarily about the adoptee. Far too often the focus is on adults and their feelings about the adoption.
This month, I would like to highlight the importance of not only recognizing but highlighting transracial families. As someone who has been adopted along with my little sister we’ve struggled with the concept of looking different than the rest of our family. It took a very long time to learn that just because we have different hair, or different skin there is beauty in complexity. From not feeling connected to your roots, to just having a different physical appearance than the rest of your adopted family, it can be difficult to navigate and sort through those emotions, so this month I would like to remind everyone out there that doesn’t fit the “traditional” family look, you are seen, you are heard, and you are absolutely beautiful.
One of my greatest struggles is knowing that there is such a slim chance that I will ever see my biological family here on this earth — specifically my mother. She was only 18 when she had me, but knew my best chance was to be placed in an orphanage in St. Petersburg, Russia. I’m now 24 and have lived in the U.S. almost my whole life. I have a bachelors degree and am currently in my last year of law school. I just wish I could thank her and let her know that I’m okay.
Adoption was always something that I never really cared to learn about. I was dismissive towards learning about my culture and exploring that part of me because I wanted to feel like I fully fit into the American lifestyle. I have always struggled with feeling lonely and like I don’t have a place in the world. In a room full of people, I felt lonely and no matter how hard I tried to adapt to situations nothing would give me a sense of belonging. These emotions caused me to feel like I was crazy, like there was something wrong with me. Nearly six months ago, one of my closest friends at the time made a joke that she thought to be funny in which she said my mom was not my real mom. These words hurt me so deeply. I didn’t realize how much those words affected me until I started my freshman year of college. The second I got here, the feeling of loneliness kicked in, making it hard for me to make friends, forcing me to face what was causing said loneliness beneath the surface. I began to do research and read books on how adoption manifests in our subconscious.
While searching for explanations to the feelings that led me to feel crazy, I discovered a community. I found people that can truly understand those emotions and I am now seeking out more information about my culture. I have always felt alone in every battle I have faced. Now I know I am not alone. In learning all this information, it has also made me feel so excited to have a child of my own. I am beyond excited to be able to create a human being and nurture it but to also adopt a child and help guide them through the complex implications of adoption.
I am so thankful to have a supportive, close-knit family to help me as I continue to explore my adoption as not everyone is so lucky. Now, I am okay with not fully fitting in with Americans or Asians. Although this doesn’t mean I do not carry the shame of not belonging, weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
As a child I didn’t have the language to tell anyone how I felt about being adopted. People told me it was God’s plan that I was adopted. I was told to be grateful because I was adopted. All of the adults told me it was a good thing but I didn’t feel like it was. So I had to be bad. I knew it. I was the one with bad feelings and I was given away so it must be me.
The emotions I carried throughout my life finally came bursting out. The fog no longer had me in its grips. I was free to heal. We can only heal when we know what the problem is. When I was in my 20’s I had therapist tell me I was angry. I knew that, but why? It only made me angrier when they said it. I knew I was bad and now they were validating it. I wouldn’t go back to a therapist because of the bad experiences I had until I was in my 50’s.
I needed someone to hear me. Not the narrative that the adoption industry, many adoptive parents and some birth mothers want us to believe that a baby is a blank slate and can be given away without any issues. The attachment of the baby to its mother is lifelong. Even if we don’t want to be attached to them.
Adult adoptee groups give me a space to be seen and heard. Some of my family and friends are also there for me. As an adopted person, I ask everyone to please allow adoptees the space to be seen and heard. It is imperative for the healing journey. When an adoptee comes out of the fog and realizes where the pain comes from they will need others that can help guide them. It is the adoptee’s lived experience and they are the expert. Listen and let the healing begin.
I currently struggle with feeling not good enough. During this month of National Adoption/tee Awareness Month, so many amazing adoptees are voicing their thoughts, deep emotions, and bringing awareness to a much needed topic. As a co-host on the Janchi Show Podcast, I am constantly reminded every week that there are amazing people doing things at much higher levels than myself. Speaking across the nation, writing books, PhD studies, constantly creating thoughtful social media and having very important dialogue with others, but not me. I finally realized, I don't have to compare myself to anyone. I can post 30 things this month, or I can post nothing, and that's ok. My weekly podcast is enough, and if I sprinkle it with some social media, that's completely my choice. Even though the world of adoption fog feels endless and the rabbit hole continues to get larger, it is still my life and my time. I am the one who needs to regulate that, especially this month. So for anyone else feeling like they aren't good enough cause you might feel pressured by social media, or some internal self goals, take a break. Log off, take a walk, call a friend, and just know that you ARE good enough. The relationships that really help you realize self worth are the ones in person. Be mindful of your time, engage with the community as you have time, and appreciate everyone's efforts instead of comparing. And that, has helped me see that I am enough.
Identity is, of course, one of the greatest struggles of being a transracial adoptee. In the United States, there is an unspoken racial hierarchy (also affected by gender) that is almost never addressed or discussed. It is up to the adoptee to figure out this hierarchy for themselves. This creates anger, resentment, and division. While I was adopted with two other children from South Korea, we lacked any vernacular to discuss race and we were left in the dark together. The primary sentiment of our transracial adoptions was that we were 'saved' from a poor country with less resources, which was, unadmittedly, rooted in racist biases, such as being submissive. My 'generous' white parents willfully ignored the racial component of adopting children from a different culture from their own. Their lack of accountability is incredibly painful. The burden of creating an identity was left up to us. My childhood was filled with confusion and anger, having been adopted by a mother who has a borderline personality disorder. Not a perfect family. Not a happy ending. Again and again, healing (and identity) has to come from within.
A big struggle I have faced is people referring to my family as my ‘adoptive family’ or my birth family as my ‘real family’. It is incredibly insulting to say my brothers and my dad are my ‘adoptive family’. I am so thankful for my family and the journey, while not easy, I have been on. The trauma associated with adoption has helped me relate to others and empathize more.
When I was five, my mom and I took a trip to the Smithsonian Museum in DC. We were waiting on a bench inside when a young Asian couple walked towards us. They looked us both up and down, twisting their mouths in confusion and wondering what this Asian toddler was doing with an older white lady. Taking the initiative in this interaction I cheerily greeted them with a friendly "HOLA."
From a young age I have struggled with people's assumptions of who I'm supposed to be because of my race: good at math, quiet, knows everything about Chinese culture because I'm Chinese. But I'm not the stereotypical Asian people see on their sitcoms. I'm outgoing and curious, prefer language arts over numbers, and I'm still learning a lot about my Chinese heritage. I still sometimes internalize those stereotypes and think I'm a failure at "being Asian," but now I have a community with Navigating Adoption who understands that we are more than just our outward appearances.
When you always carry a sense of not quite fitting despite all the measures saying you fit just fine. It is hard to help people without this visceral sense what it is really like. One event sticks out clearly to me.
While I was in graduate school taking a grief and loss counseling course, the professor asked us to turn in our obituary as an assignment. As I sat at the computer starting at the blank document I wanted to turn in a completely blank page they way adoption wanted it to be. An industry selling the narrative of a blank baby given to adoptive parents to be shaped by them with nothing before from birth and no affects thereafter. Rather than turning in a blank page, I wrote “Here she lies, whoever she was. Jean was born but never lived, Kristen lived but was never born. Who was she?”
It was after that assignment that I decided to change my name back and integrate my identity so that I was both born and living with the hope at the end of my lifetime there would not be a doubt of who I was, no doubts that I was born and lived. I was not a blank slate at birth to be shaped. I was fully formed, came with an identity, a heritage, and a history.
The professor shared he had never received a response like that before. It was never not the grief and loss that people shared about or that was taught about. I hope it continues to be shared about. I didn’t only loss a family I lost parts of myself too.
Of all the loss in adoption the one thing I could undo was the erasure of my name and claim my whole identity. To be fully authentic self meant I no longer had to try to fit one way or another, I could just be.
Being adopted is a hard concept to grab onto. Most adoptees never knew what it felt to be loved until it truly happens to them. As a kid, I was raised in a biracial family and I was never judged or felt like I didn’t belong in my family. As I grew older, specifically, I had a History teacher telling me my parents should send me back to China and climb the Great Wall of China. I felt hurt and threatened! As we celebrate National Adoption Month, I am beyond grateful that I had a second chance at life!
