Adoption is trauma. I don’t fully understand it, but I’m beginning to appreciate the ways in which those (very) early experiences have shaped the way I live my life. There’s no reason to enumerate the sudden, dramatic changes adoptees experience – I will only say that even as someone abandoned and fostered under the “best” possible circumstances, I know that I was traumatized.
I’ve been aware of my adoption since I was fairly young, maybe around four years old. In fact, I brought it up myself – pointing out that I didn’t look like my siblings because “I didn’t come from Mommy’s tummy”. Little kids, they know what’s up. And so my parents, in that moment, were forced to talk to me about adoption. They did a very good job of painting a happy picture: a mother who loved me and a family who wanted me.
They always used the language that I was “given up” – so I grew up thinking of myself as separate from the kids who were “abandoned”. It came as something of a shock then, when during my senior year of high school I was forced to do a genealogy project and took my papers out of the safety deposit box. It was the first time I’d really read them, and there, in big bold caps were the words “ABANDONED” and “ORPHAN”. Yes, it took me until I was eighteen to realize that I was an orphan.
I think that in some ways, being sheltered from the idea of abandonment was harmful to me. It prevented me from growing in a lot of ways because it robbed me of my whole history. I was in my twenties before I could even begin to think about the ways in which adoption has negatively impacted me – and I’ve been in therapy since I was fifteen.
At first glance it probably doesn’t make any sense – why not shield your child from things that are potentially hurtful?
The problem is, those feelings of hurt are always going to be there. Those moments where I was just too clingy, too sensitive, too afraid were still there. And because I couldn’t trace it back to the source, I placed the flaw in myself. I internalized it. I saw my emotionality as something pathological, excessive and burdensome to others. Something to be squelched, stifled, silenced. In other aspects of my life I worked so hard to be the best, to be without fault. I had to be the perfect child: I intensely feared abandonment, but never called it that.
Now that I am conscious of these issues, I can manage them. When something triggering happens, I can (usually) stop myself from going down the path to crisis and instead think about the situation and why I’m feeling the way I’m feeling. Knowing that I was abandoned, that I was traumatized, legitimizes my emotions. It gives me permission to feel bad, but it also gives me the tools I need to feel better.
I can’t give you much advice about when and how to approach the topic. Probably not at three, but also not at eighteen. Somewhere in between. I’m glad to hear that you are open to the idea of counseling – but do your research, the right fit really matters. Someone who has experience with adoptees would be a plus, but there are plenty of other factors that count, too. I also suggest not underestimating the importance of other adoptees. I feel like a lot of growth can only come from interactions and sharing with other adoptees. Although when I was young I had very little access to other adoptees in that context, as an adult it has been something of a homecoming, and probably the first space where I could talk about my abandonment fears in a productive way.
Adoption agencies always talk about all the things your child is “gaining” in being adopted. They rarely mention what they’re losing. I think it’s important to support your child as he mourns those losses. Adoption is painful, both in the physical sense and emotionally – there needs to be space allowed for that pain.
I am curious about your use of the phrases “Adoption is trauma” and “Adoption is painful”. Is it truly adoption that is causing these feelings? Or is it more the situations that led to you being adopted? It would seem it is more the abandonment and loss that would cause these feelings than the actual act of adoption.
I may be wrong. I have not lived what you have.
If the same circumstances had happened, that you were abandoned, but not adopted… had you lived in an orphanage, would you not feel the same feelings of trauma and pain? In that line of thinking it is not adoption that is traumatic and painful, but the circumstances that led you to it.
I would love to know your feelings on this.
In a word, no.
I stand by my saying that adoption is trauma.
Certainly, abandonment is traumatic. But what about after abandonment? Isn’t it trauma to be removed from your foster mother, the first person to ever want you? Isn’t it trauma to be flown across the world and forced into the arms of strangers, leaving everything familiar behind? Isn’t it trauma to grow up, treated as deviant and foreign? To never see faces that look like yours in real life, and rarely on television, in books or movies? Isn’t it trauma to have people constantly interrogate you about how old you were, why you were abandoned, and if you want to find your birth parents? To be teased about your skin, hair and face? To live in constant fear of being sent back? Isn’t it trauma to live in exile? Isn’t it trauma to feel all these things and all the while be told by doctors, social workers, aparents, society – everyone who hasn’t lived – that you don’t feel any different?
Are you getting the picture?
It troubles me that the choice comes down to living in an orphanage or being adopted. Because this isn’t the case. Transracial adoption is a business. I was a manufactured orphan – an unwed mother, fearing social stigma abandoned me in hopes of a better life for both of us. But would she have been so quick to give me up were it not for the influence of the adoption industry in Korea?
That said, thank you for your comment, as yours is an opinion shared by many aparents and society at large. However, from where I stand, adoption is painful and traumatic. This is how I have lived it, and this is how I will continue to live it.
How can we submit questions? Is there an email address I am missing? I´m moving this site to the top of my ¨favorites¨ list.
Julijeong -
Thanks for sharing your feelings. As a recent adoptive mom your narrative is very painful to hear. I respect your feelings, but I also think it’s crude to reduce transnational adoption ( or transracial as you put it) to a “business.” There are a multitude of historical factors that have contributed to the rise of transnational adoption ( and country specific histories as well). Adoption is a human phenomenon that goes back probably to the earliest forms of human social organization. I think it’s important to look at the cultural, economic, political and demographic factors that shape the world we live in when you talk about international adoption. This is not to say that there have never been shady practices when it comes to IA. But let’s not characterize the whole range of realities out there with a simple formula.
I do not doubt the painful feelings that you have about being adopted. I have several friends who adopted children domestically and I know that their kids are feeling the same as you. But the big difference in domestic adoption ( which is now ‘open’ in many states) is that sometimes the truth hurts more than not knowing the circumstances of abandonment. With domestic adoption, there is no compelling story like China’s one-child policy, AIDS, war, poverty, genocide – whatever. Sometimes there is just the sad, but simple truth that a women wasn’t ready to be a mother. There are plenty of kids who know their birth mothers (and fathers) and still feel a lot of pain because their biological parents went on to have families when it was a better time in their lives. What about IVF with donated ova and sperm? Can you imagine the pain that these kids will face when they are old enough to contemplate how they came into this world? I think we’re all living in uncharted territory. Sadly, there will always be babies and children who need families.
My mom died when I was very young. I know what pain feels like and I have entertained the powerful fantasy of “what ifs.” Even well into my 40s I wondered what my life would have been like if my mom was still alive. But I also loved my step-mother very deeply.
I also want to urge all of us to think carefully when talking about “race.” Racism exists in this world but “races” do not. There is absolutely no biological basis for race – so we really need to be careful when we talk about transracial anything. It becomes a vulgar formula for setting difference in stone – what are the races? Let’s call it transcultural for now. I’m sickened by the thought that our daughter might feel that she’s a different “race” than us. This kind of thinking has been the basis for slavery, the holocaust, and genocide. Let’s try to recapture some of the humanity that international adoption fosters and reflect on the possibilities it presents to break down racial thinking, prejudice, and hate. I wish you happiness and healing. Thanks for sharing in this forum – it takes a lot of courage to be honest and open in this way about your deepest pain.
I think the most pressing issue to address here is that of race, so that is where I will begin. People love to pull out that statistic that genetically there is more variation within a race than between races. Well, that’s good to know, BUT, in my life experience, racist people judge by how you look, not what is in your DNA. There are obvious exceptions to this (such as indigenous “blood quantum laws” and the “one drop rule” used against mixed heritage individuals) but, let’s just not lose sight of the fact that race exists in our society. It may be a cultural construction, but that makes it no less real to those who have to live inequality every day. Denying race denies your child legitimacy in her experience. If you are fortunate enough for your child to share her experiences of racism with you (and believe me, this isn’t always the case), the proper response is never going to be “race doesn’t exist”. And let’s not forget that racism is not merely an individual thing – it is institutionalized.
As far as calling transracial adoption a “business”, I don’t know what to tell you other than this is how I see it. I’ve seen aparents “window shop” for the “best deal” or “easiest to get” country. We all know celebrities treat their transracially adopted children like exotic accessories and as a way to prove their liberal credentials. More simply, money is exchanged. Profit is measured. The laws of supply and demand are applied. If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck…
Finally, there were many important questions raised in your post and while answering them all would be a worthy project, I feel that addressing each one would involve considerably more space than is appropriate for a blog comment. What I will suggest, however, is for you to perhaps do a little exploration into these issues for yourself. For instance, looking at indigenous-white settler adoptions as the first transracial adoptions in America. Or examining the role of the US military in camptown prostitution practices in Korea and how that has influenced adoption practices. Or even just the politics behind white Westerners going into so-called Third World countries to “rescue” children.
I totally agree with the statement Juli made…”Denying race denies your child legitimacy in her experience.” I noticed very early on that I was of a different race…even before I understood my whole adoption story. I see that every time I look at family pictures or go to the store with my dad & people give us strange looks. Being adopted into a family that is Caucasian and growing up in a town that is predominantly Caucasian…my race was always a part of my experience.
I have to weigh in on both of these comments. Firstly, I also stand by Juli with both of her responses. Adoption is trauma. Certainly in the grand scope of life on earth, there are greater, but by saying adoption is better than an orphanage is not seeing, or accepting, the whole picture. Being denied the right not just to know your biological parents, but also the denial of a name, a history, a culture, a language (adoption basics) – has long lasting psychological and, often physical, effects that last a lifetime. Sounds like trauma to me.
As for race – I also have to agree with both Juli and JoLynn. Academically, you’re right, Alisa – race is a non-issue. But academics don’t play out very well on the playground or the street. Denying that this is or will be a major issue in your child’s life is a huge disservice. We don’t live in bubbles. And as a result, you need to arm your child from an early age with things that are going to help empower her out in the real world, not confuse her or make her angry or feel like she isn’t understood by those closest to her. You need to advocate for her rights as a minority because those are the realities she will live, whether we like it or not.
I greatly appreciate you sharing your experiences with me. As with each of the replies I received, I am going to print this out so that I can always refer back to it.
Juli,
Thank you for replying to my comment and for explaining how adoption was traumatic in your life. It does make more sense to me now. I believe some of the things you mentioned will certainly not apply to all internationally adopted children, but others will.
I hope that adoptive parents of today are going to be a bit better at helping their children cope with and work through these types of things in their lives than what parents of your generation were. That is why I appreciate what you are doing here… so that I might better be able to help my son with whatever he may face in life.
I have to admit that my experience of your posts is pretty emotional. I can’t help but feel defensive as an adoptive parent of a child from China as I read these posts. You are saying that I have harmed my daughter by adopting her!
Nevertheless, despite my feelings, I can accept intellectually what you say – but it sure takes a lot of mental energy for me to hold these perpectives in mind as I think about how I can help my daughter with her trauma, past present and future. It is a muscle that as a white man (not adopted) I haven’t needed to use much in my daily life.
One thing I will NOT do is waste energy, since I am going to need all of it, trying to make other people feel comfortable when they reveal their racism and ignorance with their questions and comments regarding my daughter.
Also, I do not see the description of transnational adoption as a ‘business’ as perjorative in and of itself. Business can be ethical or not, just like anything else.
William,
I realize that this was posted a long time ago, but I’ve had to really think about the best way to respond.
First of all – I appreciate that hearing these things is hard, particularly if its the first time that such critiques have entered your consciousness. But, it is incredibly important to not just “intellectually” accept them. “Intellectually” accepting what your daughter is going through isn’t going to help her a whole lot. It’s like the difference between “tolerance” and “acceptance”. You can “tolerate” what I say – that is, you think I have the right to say it but you don’t like it or agree with it, nor are you willing to give it the critical consideration that it deserves. But if you don’t think it’s reasonable/legitimate/justified or REAL, you are assuming that you know better. Which, y’know, given the circumstance, doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.
Furthermore, it’s not just me who is saying these things. There’s a huge, diverse community of adoptees saying the same things.
The way I see it, if you are truly committed to protecting and caring for your daughter, you need to engage with us. You need to sit down, listen, read, think. Even if it’s hard. Even if it hurts. Even if it’s a “muscle” that your privilege as allowed you to not have to use. Just because you don’t live in a body like mine doesn’t excuse you from having to think about these issues. Beverly Tatum describes privilege as like a moving sidewalk – standing still is not the same thing as actively moving against the pull.
I was a little confused by one part of your comment – I hope that you are NOT going to waste energy making people who say bigoted things feel comfortable. In fact, I hope you put that energy into making them feel uncomfortable. Very, very uncomfortable.