Unraveling the emotional depths of my adoption narrative

Unraveling the emotional depths of my adoption narrative

I don’t think I’ve ever said the sentences “I’m adopted” and “no family history” as much as I have since having a child.

Going to the doctors or even play dates seemingly always leads to a mention of it.

There tends to be 1000 medical forms that need anything and everything about your past or someone will mention a trait their child inherited and ask if something similar runs in your family.

These instances are innocent and seemingly simple- but it follows with a quick trip down “ouch” lane for a split second.

As a kid, the “A” word aka “Adopted” was seen as a sad thing. For me, it was simply my normal.  

But all too often, a pity response of “oh, well at least you were adopted!” or “you’re lucky your family found you” or, sometimes worse like “I’m sorry” were the responses. 

I never understood the “I’m sorry” sentiment. It was what I’d known, it wasn’t sad.  It was just how my life unfolded. 

As I grew older, I started redefining it – picking and choosing how I’d connect with it. I loved pandas – did reports on a few different types, I dressed in Chinese dresses, I leaned into the beauty side and squeezed myself into the accepted stereotypes.

I did everything to associate myself with where I was adopted from, except the very question of “why?”. 

Why was I adopted? What happened? What were my birth parents like? Do I have siblings? Does someone else look like me?

I shielded myself from the very real answers that could be “they couldn’t afford me”, “I was an accident”, or worse “ they just didn’t want me.”

I grew to accept that I may never know. Not for real. Not the answers I wanted. The ones that only my bio parents knew. 

And guess what? It’s worked out fine. 

Now as an adult, I actually wear it as a badge of honor.

I’m living in a world built on stacked generations and the luxury of knowing every bit of history.

Yet, I’ve created mine on my own.

I’ve created a new bloodline – I’ve started a story, something only my child can keep writing long after I’m gone.

I’ve created armor against the criticism, the pity, and the fetishes.

I’ve built a life without a history report and a whole lot of future pages to fill.

If you’re ever feeling lost, without information you once thought was crucial to living your life to the fullest- it’s possible you’ve already got the answer, but you haven’t hit the milestone yet. 

You will hit it. 

You’ll chuckle and think “that was it? That’s all I needed to figure out to settle this dialogue I’ve lived with for years?”

And then- you’ll just keep writing your story and living your big beautiful life.

Being adopted is strong, resilient, and it’s not shameful one bit.

You were meant to be where you are. Just look around at the people you love and the people who love you.

Your self created circle is gold.

Remember to take moments to love it, and keep building it for years to come.

P.S.

If you’re ever looking to dive into a book that will lift you up and inspire you – check out the newest book I was lucky enough to be a co-author in: I’m So Glad You Left Me.

Immerse yourself into 88 stories of courage, self-love and personal growth from 88 women around the world.

Here’s where you can grab your digital copy of the book (hard copies will be available soon!) :

US: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DJ9RLMJN

Being Asian American in the United States Today

Being Asian American in the United States Today

Okay, here it goes. I’m working on starting a side hustle, and what comes with starting a side hustle, is extra visibility. However, with the most recent outbreaks of violence towards Asian Americans, I want nothing more than to curl up under an invisibility cloak. I generally try not to burden people with my fears. And in most cases, I believe voicing concerns should never be viewed as burdens on others at all. Instead they should be seen as a lesson or an open opportunity to learn from another person. 

This past weekend has me scared to be independent…again. Let me explain. 

When Covid-19 first began, I was afraid like everyone else. It was a global emergency and no one had clear answers for our future. But I became more afraid when the former president of the United States coined it the “China Flu” and “KungFlu”. These nicknames led to an open invitation to those who felt that violence against Asian Americans was acceptable. 

I was once a completely independent woman, unafraid to do almost anything alone. I’d go to the gym, go shopping, go for walks or jogs — all on my own. But now, my home is the only place I feel I am safe. My husband drives the car when we go out, I wear sunglasses when I can to hide my eyes, and he answers the door if people come to our house. 

Growing up, I experienced racism in the form of small micro aggressions— a lot, and still do. It was something I dealt with in silence. My entire family is caucasian,  and I remember it being a lonely realization once I understood that my being Asian was never going to be something they could ever fully relate to. My family is beyond understanding, and I am so grateful for them.  But being a different race and living with the differences everyday, is entirely different than living alongside it. 

Since Covid-19, I only truly saw my race being a factor a couple times. At our bi-weekly shopping trips, there were times a couple people would leave the aisle I was in, or start walking the other way after a whisper and a look from one another, then to me. My husband noticed more occasions than I did, but I have learned to tunnel vision. 

Sometimes I would get dead cold stares from people who had their masks half on. They would look at me with piercing looks of disgust of my being in the same grocery store as them, in the same country. 

Here’s the thing, not only am I a U.S. citizen, but I also haven’t been to China in years. These facts however, are not things I feel I need to tell strangers, ever. In fact, it’s none of their business. 

Violent incidents surface in my news feeds daily now and add to my fear of leaving my home.  People are being violently assaulted, spit on, and threatened. I’ve become more affected than I’d like to admit, as if fear is somehow bad or weak. Let me tell you right now, it isn’t either of those things, it’s human. 

The world has turned upside down on empathy and understanding. It’s somehow cool to show off your hatred for others. I hope when my children come into this world, I can say I helped educate others, for myself, for them, and for our safety. 

My heart goes out to the recent losses and those who are affected by the recent shooting in Atlanta, GA. 

My advice to people: be better, listen to other people’s experiences, and learn from them and through them. Everyone has some room for growth and everyone has a story worth listening to.