Things adoptees hear on the playground

"Why don't you look like your mom" was the most common question I was asked as a kid. Well, maybe it was “what’s your favorite color” or “what’s your name” but maybe the things you remember most are the ones that push you to the outside. Why don’t you look like your mom? What happened to your lip? Do you ever want to meet your ‘real’ parents? Oh, so you're not really Asian...

In the latter part of the twentieth century, when I was growing up, international adoption was not yet super-trendy (for perspective, Angelina Jolie, one of the first glamour celebs I recall who spotlighted international adoption, adopted her first child in 2002) so the questions were maybe a bit more blunt then. 

But it didn’t offend me then - I mean, it made sense if you saw my family. My mom is Caucasian and has blonde hair and blue eyes. I used to draw pictures of my family in preschool and I always drew myself with blonde hair, like my mom's. I knew even at that young age that you were supposed to look like your parents. My dad was Cuban, with black hair and olive skin. Some people, in trying to make our diverse family make sense to them, surmised that he must be my bio father because our hair was the same color. But I am Korean, and none of my features matched his Caribbean ones.

I learned right away the correct answers to these questions, the ones that would diffuse the awkwardness, absorb the impoliteness and nosiness, take on other people’s discomfort and make everyone feel better. I’m adopted. I was born with a cleft lip and had surgery. My mom and dad are my real parents and the other ones are my birth parents and I’m fine not knowing anything about them.

I learned quickly how to answer the questions to make them go away, and in doing so, fooled myself into thinking that the questions helped instill pride in me as an adoptee. Practicing the answers over and over made me think I was confident and comfortable. 

Only now as an adult do I feel how those questions - never asked to a biological child - made me feel so "other." I was living the life I had been given yet being blamed and judged for it. "You are supposed to look like your parents" is what the question suggested. It communicated that in their eyes I was defying how the world was supposed to work and in some ways, that birth families were more important than my adoptive family. 

Of course many of these questions came from children, who don't yet know that their questions can be forward or rude. Nothing wrong with kiddos asking curious questions like these. I did feel that many adults genuinely wanted to know more about me, and even those who brought it up awkwardly cared a great deal about me and my answers. Sometimes the wording isn't perfect and I don't have the expectation that it would be. I would rather someone ask imperfectly than be too worried to say anything. Maybe others feel differently but hopefully we are able to extend grace. I am also thinking lots of thoughts about how to help my kids grab onto more sensitive ways of asking these questions, not just for adoptees but for anyone with untraditional stories. 

I'm going to share some questions I was frequently asked, and also alternative ways for adults to word them to be more culturally sensitive to adoptees:

"Did you always know you were adopted?"

This always felt like a veiled question to the real curiosity, which was: "Did your parents hide the truth of your adoption from you and for how long?" I'm grateful that my parents were trustworthy and open with us. In my family it was obvious that my sister and I were adopted because of how different we looked from our parents, but I was also taught through their openness to be proud of my adoption. I can't speak for other adoptees whose parents chose not to tell them or delayed telling them but I can imagine the heartache and trauma of being left out of knowing such a huge part of your identity. 

Alternative question to ask: How did your parents tell you you were adopted?

"Where are your 'real' parents?"

It was hard for other children on the playground to get that "real" parents aren’t always the same as birth parents. I had my spiel down and was the little adoption educator on the blacktop - sharing how my real parents are the ones who love me and raise me, but I am always struck by the word choice of this question and the stigma around adoption and untraditional families. Any other adoptees out there have a version of this question in their childhood?

Alternative question to ask: Do you know anything about your birth parents?

"What happened to your lip?"
I was born with a severe birth defect and will always have a scar from the many surgeries required to correct it. Many adoptees have special needs and it has been suggested to me by at least one person that perhaps this was the reason I was put up for adoption (likely true, but a cruel thing to say.) Adoptees already have to deal with feeling rejected by birth families, and those with special needs feel additional struggles. It was hard to be asked this question over and over again but it also felt like an elephant in the room if it went unsaid, especially when my scar was raw from a recent operation. I received excellent medical care for my birth defect and feel the weight and thankfulness of knowing that I probably would not have had proper care had I not been adopted. But I still struggled with missing school, the very painful recoveries after surgery, and looking extra different from peers. 

Alternative: [Say nothing. Or if you must ask, you could say something like:] May I ask about your scar on your lip? Is it from a cleft lip? It's okay if you'd rather not share.

"Oh, so you're not really [your ethnicity]"

My whole life people have commented about how un-Asian I am. “You’re more white than I am!” friends would joke. I usually made a joke back about how I was a banana or a twinkie (a common Asian joke about being "yellow on the outside, white on the inside" that I realize can sound inappropriate) but didn't feel the grief of this until I was older. 

Many adoptees share this same feeling - how they do not feel fully accepted into their adoptive culture or their birth culture, and how profoundly isolating that is. I tried Korean food with my parents one time before I went to college, knew no Korean words or culture, and I was too young to realize my loss. Yet at times when I've tried to spend time learning Korean-American culture, some fellow KAs play gatekeeper. They can't reconcile that I look Korean on the outside but am not familiar with any of the cultural norms.

I know that I likely will always feel in-between worlds and cultures, and am working on accepting that this is a part of my identity as it is a part of many others who are first-generation immigrants or adoptees. I have since tried to learn more about my birth heritage and teach my kids the same, while also proudly embracing the diverse parts of me that I inherited through adoption (i.e. some of the best dishes I make are Cuban recipes from my grandmother.) 

Alternative: Do you know much about your birth culture? How does that make you feel?

"Are you going to look for your birth parents?"

Though I had a closed adoption in the 1980s, this is actually possible now with the development of DNA testing and family matching. However, I have not ventured far down the road to locate birth family members. I have followed many reunion stories between Korean adoptees and their birth families, both joy-filled and heartbreaking, and am not sure I'm ready for it yet while I am caring for an aging parent and raising young children. It's a constant wrestle as I know possible birth family members are aging and the clock is ticking to find them, but I feel peace right now recognizing my limits and wanting to devote my energy and time to the family that has been given to me.

Alternative: I've heard stories about people using DNA testing to reunite with birth families. Would you ever be interested in that?

--

I still get asked many of these questions, and I’m still not offended by them. Not because I don’t think it can be a bit forward or rude (it is) or because it isn’t sometimes ignorant (that too). I’m not offended because I have been in a place where I’ve wondered something and it came out the wrong way. Where I am not trying to offend but I do anyway. I can have Grace for another sometimes putting his/her foot in mouth because I’ve done it too. 

At the same time, I can take note of the insensitivity and I can fight for other adoptees - especially children - to not have to face the same kind of questions that push us to the outside. We can teach our kids to be open-minded about the many different ways that families and people look. We can educate adults about the many types of people around us - some who look to us like one ethnicity on the outside but represent a different culture because of upbringing. And we can support and encourage adoptees and adoptive parents in their journeys, knowing that we're all trying our very best.