More on My Cousin - Venting Frustration

My cousin had a brief period a few months ago where she had to go back into the mental facility for a few days, but other than that, she's been living in a stable situation at my mother's house in a nice basement bedroom suite. Every few months her condition strikes or she has some sort of crisis (like this one in November) but nothing as terrible as the initial episode that cost her job and any hope of a normal life for the short-term future.

I still feel sad we're not closer, but I don't see that changing soon. I quickly stopped giving her financial advice because it ended up contributing to her insecurity. She'd get excited about it, then wouldn't follow up and would feel really embarrassed. I would give advice if she asked again, but otherwise I never bring up finances. I don't give her any advice at all, with the exception of reinforcing the simple point that my mother and her therapist and every other person in her life repeat again and again: "PLEASE DON'T TALK TO YOUR DAD".

If I was giving her more advice, I'd tell her to stop going to so many Al-Anon meetings. She goes every day, often multiple times a day. Most of her friends are from Al-Anon, and all the others are from the institution support groups. I feel like there's a time when you need to stop substituting support groups for real living.

I don't have anything against the Alcoholics Anonymous approach or Al-Anon (for those who don't know the distinction, Al-Anon is for friends and families of alcoholics) and in fact I know some other family members who really need to go back to AA and stick with it. But like any other group, it's possible to have unhealthy group dynamics, and I think her Al-Anon group has some weird and almost cultlike aspects. It demands an insane amount of her time. I think she should be using this time on disability checks to explore how to form a new life for herself. She could be taking a few noncredit classes, and doing some volunteer work to build up a resume for a potential future career that she can work around her disability. She could be finding constructive low-demand, low-stress activities and hobbies, healing while preparing, going to meetings not more than once a day... instead, the Al-Anon acts like a cocoon. She's immersed in an environment where she can't focus on herself because she keeps getting dragged into other people's drama. She wakes up, goes to therapy or a support group meeting, hangs out with friends from her support group, goes to Al-Anon meetings, then goes out to dinner with friends from Al-Anon, then goes to sleep. And this has pretty much been her entire life for a year. I don't see her more than once a week... and I'm at my mother's house all the time.

The worst thing I heard about Al-Anon is how my cousin's mother praised it. "I've been going to Al-Anon for twenty years. I go almost every day. I wouldn't get by without it!" Great... so it's enabled her to stay a completely ineffectual woman who cheerfully stands by the side of her alcoholic husband and fails, for decades, at the job of protecting her children from his verbal and emotional abuse. I thought Al-Anon was designed to stop codependency, not provide an excuse for it. I hate to think my cousin is following in her footsteps. She's not an addict, yet almost all of her friends are people struggling with addictions. It's like she's addicted to addiction.

Anyway, I don't say that. In a low-key way, I try to suggest things we can do together, like go see a movie. So far it hasn't worked... because she always has a meeting to go to. We're two relatives that love each other, but I know she finds it hard to be around me because I make her insecure.

Something happened recently that will probably damage our relationship even further. She's had two serious car crashes, one in which her car was totaled (her dad got her a new one). She really shouldn't be driving at all because of all the medication she's on. Her license would have been taken away if not for some bureaucratic glitches. I have never said anything judgemental about these crashes or her driving, though. I know driving is very important for her to stay independent and go to her meetings and so on. But I did mention to my mom that it wouldn't be a good idea for her to drive Sunny anywhere.

She asked my mother if she thought that I thought it would be OK to drive Sunny to the zoo or the museum. My mother said that I would love her to spend a day with Sunny, but that she doubted I would want her driving him anywhere.

I wish she had let it go at that. But she didn't. A few days ago, she called me up and asked me directly. I said I was sorry, that I knew it was embarrassing, but I didn't think it was a good idea. She said "is it always going to be that way?" I felt so terrible. I said, "No, absolutely not, I just don't think it's a good idea... now." I told her that Guy could drop off Sunny at an outing with her, and then pick Sunny back up again, or he could go with along with the two of them... there were a lot of options.

She must have known she'd be disappointed. Or maybe not... maybe she actually imagined that someone who's been in two serious recent car crashes for unknown reasons could still be thought of as a trustworthy driver.

I think that's part of her problem. She can't compromise. It's all or nothing. She's either a princess or the worst person in the world. I don't mean that as an insult. It's a tendency she's aware of and she's mentioned trying to work on it during therapy. She thinks she might even have Borderline Personality Disorder in addition to her other diagnosis.

Sometimes her sense of entitlement is just amazing... I think part of her feels like she really deserves an upper-class white Southern pseudo-aristocratic yacht-owning lifestyle, e.g. she should not have to compromise by doing things like taking public transportation.

It makes me sad, but it doesn't make me angry. She had a lot of material advantages but massive emotional handicaps. I feel privileged in many ways. I had to work since I was 15, at very non-glamorous jobs, but I never doubted that my parents loved me, or doubted my ability to be independent. In fact, every time I talk to her, I feel like I'm walking on eggshells because I don't want to rub it in her face everything I have that she doesn't.

It's going to take a long time for her to get better, but I'm desperately hoping she can make it. In the meantime she has a free place to stay. My mother would like her to move out, but only if it's into a stable situation. Moving in with other people who are barely out of the halfway house doesn't count. She's had a couple of those opportunities crop up, but she's been wise enough not to take them. She's a codependent friend, but that's better than being a codependent girlfriend (she hasn't gotten sucked into a dysfunctional relationship). I wish she would make better choices, but at least her choices are sort of bad, but not truly horrible.

ETA: I found a great personal narrative that includes some of the concerns I have about my cousin's involvement with her group.

From SoozinTX at Open Salon:
Why I Quit Al-Anon Yet Still Recommend it to Others

[...]

I know from experience the idea of growing past attending a particular 12-Step program is anathema, if not downright treason, to the majority of members at the meetings I attended. I heard all the dogma of which theglasscharacter speaks, often delivered by sponsors and group members as if it were holy writ. I know the talk says there are no authorities in 12-step programs. Yet I can tell ya from walking the walk there are those who think they run the groups and make the rules. In their own unconscious sickness, these “rulers” use their power abusively in the act of helping others who show up at meetings in a weakened emotional state. These people can and do garner a powerful amount of peer pressure around them from those who are their followers. This creates an experience of organizational enmeshment & cult-like conformity that can quickly outlive its usefulness to those who are truly growing in the program. I now know that all meeting groups are not this way, but I sure didn’t know that in my first few years of recovery.

I had a “black-belt” Al-Anon sponsor who had rules you had to follow if you wanted to be her sponsoree. And I mean had to, if you wanted her to sponsor you. I conformed for 2 years because for awhile, I needed the sanity & structure provided by those meetings & that sponsor like I needed air. I was afraid I would completely lose it one, day, throw an angry fit, and either shoot the alcoholic man I was married to or myself . And I was stone-cold sober! That’s the insanity of being on the other side of the bottle and thinking you ought to be able to do something about the person who is abusing alcohol.

I learned many excellent coping skills & life philosophy skills in Al-Anon that I still use today. I received incredible support from the members as I went through my divorce process. I learned how to let go of my intense anger and worry. I learned how to have friends and be a supportive friend. Then as I began to branch out, make more decisions for myself, and seek out other forms of personal growth, my sponsor “fired” me. I was not following her stringent rules by daring to cut back to attending only 1-2 meetings per week. I wanted to (gasp!) pursue some other personal development opportunities.

[...]

My wish for newcomers is they truly take what they can use and leave the rest. No, really, leave it, as in walk away from it, with no guilt or shame, when the whole process no longer serves your highest spiritual growth. And let those who are uncomfortable with your chosen path deal with their own discomfort. It’s not your job to make them feel comfortable with your path. It’s your job to be fully present on your own path. Any discomfort others are experiencing is a lesson in tolerance and judgment for them.

ETA x2: One thing I just realized after typing all this up is that my cousin is a lot like Sunny in that they're both highly socially skilled AND terrified of being alone with themselves. I've been lonely in life too, but I don't have that same magnitude of terror.

Sometimes I worry how I'm going to relate to Sunny when he gets older, and the ways in which his personality differs radically from mine become more apparent. He has strengths I've never had and weaknesses I've never had. So it's good practice to understand how my adult relatives think differently from me, and how that affects our relationships.

Police Complaint

I have just not been feeling very inspired about personal blogging lately. I'll get back into it soon, I promise... this is the latest occurrence I've felt inspired to write about. It just happened today. I'm still steamed!

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Email sent to Burrell Ellis, CEO of Dekalb County:

Hello,

I was driving down North Decatur Road (on the stretch where it crosses under I-285) this Sunday afternoon when I noticed a turtle crossing the road. There weren't a lot of cars on the road, so I decided to stop and help the turtle before it got run over.

I turned around, drove back to where the turtle was, stopped my car, put on the hazard lights and quickly stepped out. I was planning on taking the turtle to the other side of the road and then jumping back in my car. Just when I stepped out of my car, a police car happened to come up behind me, and turned on the siren... I pointed to the turtle I was picking up. The police officer screamed at me "GET THE FRIG OFF THE ROAD" over his loudspeaker. I put down the turtle a couple feet away on the side of the road and got back in my car. I was too scared of the police officer to actually take the turtle to the other side of the road, so the turtle probably tried to cross again later and got run over.

I was really upset by the officer's rudeness. I understand that given the terrible crime problems that Dekalb County faces, the fate of a turtle is not very important. However, a police officer with such a short temper that the sight of a car stopped for a turtle causes him to freak out and curse... this kind of behavior is very unprofessional and ineffective. I understand you have done a lot of work to fix up the police department mess that Vernon Jones and Terrell Bolton left. I just hope that future police training will also include lessons on how not to alienate the people they are supposed to protect. Thank you for considering my perspective.

Regards,
____

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Edited to Add: I just drove to work today along that same stretch. I kept my eye out for a horrible bloody stain on the road, but didn't see anything. So I guess the turtle made it!

Literary Groaner

Here's a funny conversation we had on vacation that shows how much Sunny likes to play with words.

We were trying to coax him to write longer sentences in his travel journal than "I like the museum" or "I went on the train". Sunny was arguing for shorter sentences and was getting pretty frustrated.

"But I want to write 'I like the museum'! Why can't you let me write 'I like the museum'?"

"We already explained, it's more interesting for people to read longer sentences. Why don't you use just ONE adjective about something you liked at the museum? Pick an adjective, and then we'll give you a tip for how to use it in the sentence. Besides, you already used 'I like the museum' yesterday."

"But I want to write 'I like the museum'! Why can't you let me write 'I like the museum'?"

Guy: sighing. "I guess we don't have a Balzac on our hands."

Me: "Don't be so pessimistic. Maybe we have a Hemingway instead."

Sunny: "Or a Milky Way!"

I'm a Legal Mom, and Other Updates

Our adoption finally went through last month. Yes, I'm way behind on the news. Sunny is our legal son!

I'd like to report that some pre-adoption behavior cleared up, but things are pretty much the same. I don't think the adoption ceremony meant that much to him. In the future, it's going to end up figuring a lot more in his thoughts, but he'd already accepted us as his permanent parents a while back.

We happened to draw the oldest, palest, gloomiest judge in Atlanta. He said some nice words, but also gave an odd speech about how hard it was to make a success of yourself in this cold cruel world even if you came from a family with two biological parents and no troubles. My mother cried. I videotaped everything. Sunny loved getting to dress up and shake hands with the judge. It's a striking picture... Sunny in his sharp black dress pants and black dress shirt, the judge in his long black robes.

We have to wait a while for the amended birth certificate, and then get a new social security number. The amended birth certificate is a terrible practice and the source of needless injustice for adoptees. It won't harm Sunny, in practical terms (I have several copies of his Original Birth Certificate, which doesn't list his father's name, and he knows quite well who his biological mother was) but I wish it wasn't the common practice.

In practical terms, now that he's officially adopted we can:

• Allow our friends the neighbors to drive him to the pool or to the movies
• Have a babysitter without making them get a drug test, a physical and fingerprinting
• Sublet our basement suite or use it for charitable purposes like hosting
• Go on trips without getting permission first
• Get him a passport so he can visit Japan or Mexico with us
• If anything horrible happens to us, he won't be taken right back into the foster care system

Another thing we are now allowed to do, which we weren't before, is spank him. And this was something we did try, on the advice of our therapist. It's embarrassing to blog it. But I thought it was worth a try. Her argument was that it shouldn't reactivate trauma for him because we know he wasn't ever physically abused. And it would help him internalize that hitting people is wrong. We tried it several times -- three swats on the butt -- when he went into a violent rage and lashed out. At first, it worked. It completely stopped a rage that would normally last 15-20 minutes and made him enter the remorseful crying stage right away, instead of at the very end when he was exhausted from being held down.

Then spanking stopped working. It just didn't affect him at all anymore. The rages -- two or three times a week, 15-30 minutes in duration -- were unaltered. The last time we spanked, he yelled that he wished he was bigger, because then he would spank dad back... "WITH A PADDLE!". We might have gotten another favorable "short-circuit the rage" effect if we'd stepped up the physical punishment beyond three mild swats, but that's something we had agreed way beforehand we wouldn't do. One try, and then we'd move on. But I can see that's how parental abuse gets started. A little works, but then it stops working. So try a little more... and I don't want to go there.

I don't have much experience with physical punishment. My father used to whack me on the top of the head when I was a kid (and tried to do it into my teens, actually) but it never had the effect he wanted.

Scratch that technique off the list. No more spanking, ever.

We're starting to see a new therapist. I don't want to discount our old one, and we'll continue seeing her irregularly. She's given us some great advice in the past. She's a mature African-American woman with a ton of experience who is incredibly insightful when it comes to a lot of stuff, but we're going to try someone totally opposite: a young white guy who lists foster care experience and has a PsyD instead of an LCSW. We'll see how that works. I'm also setting up an appointment with a psychiatrist (a new one, not the icky stupid one) in August to discuss medication.

One technique we're going to start soon, suggested by a friend of my mother's, is audio/video feedback. This means recording the bad language and hitting he uses during a rage and showing him later, when he's calm.

I'm a bit skeptical about the neurofeedback treatment. It doesn't seem to have altered his rage frequency in any way. But the one thing I do believe it has helped with is his sleeping. Since he started neurofeedback, he hasn't woken us up at 4AM anymore, liked he used to do about once a week. And that's really huge once you start thinking about it. It improves our quality of life and mental state tremendously.

He used to have frequent nightmares about a man chasing him with a chainsaw trying to cut his foot off, but he rarely reports those anymore, and I ask him every morning. I'm sure he still has nightmares, they're just not as strong or frequent, and he's learned to put himself back to sleep after waking up to one.

His foster mom said he used to wake up the whole house at 5AM on Saturday morning, just running out in the hall and screaming and screaming until he made sure all 10+ family members were awake.

I'm not sure if we're going to continue with the full course of neurofeedback, and my high hopes for it have adjusted somewhat. Still, I think the sleep improvement was worth it.

We're arranging a visit with his bio grandma in a few months. She'll be driving over and staying with us for several days. I think this will be a good chance for them to bond a bit more and talk about his maternal family.

She sends us pictures of BB every Wednesday, which is when she has visitation. And BB is doing well, but it's gotten so depressing for me to even look at the pictures. Is this my son, or not? He's going to be walking soon. He's going to be a year old soon and I wasn't there for hardly any of it. It's not important to him that I love him now. It will be in the future, whatever happens, but not now.

In happier news, although it hit a stifling 96 degrees this weekend, Sunny was having the time of his life at the water park. He loves the water so much. He spent almost all this weekend having aquatic fun. The last four days have all been fit-free, and if he makes it to seven he knows he's getting a nice bonus from his sticker chart.

Edited to Add: I reread this post and realized how negative it all is. I should have just done a separate "We did the adoption ceremony and it's great we're officially legally a family." If I put up a picture of the event, you'd see we're all smiling, even the gloomy judge.

Family History, National History

We spent our family vacation in Washington DC. It was awfully nice. I already know the area fairly well from the time I spent long ago as an au pair working for a family in the Maryland suburbs.

One day, we drove all the way down to Jamestown and its historical museum. I loved the exhibits, which covered the culture of 1) the English settlers 2) Powhatan Native Americans and 3) Angolans of dubious status (perhaps slaves, perhaps indentured) who all once lived in or near Jamestown. One exhibit covered a fascinating bit of history that I never knew before: the colonization efforts were based on a pattern already established... in Ireland. The goal was establish an ethnic enclave while extracting wealth from the natives (Irish cattle-herders/Powhatan farmer-hunters) using a combination of trade and force, then send money back to England.

We watched a museum movie which showed that life in Jamestown was pretty much hell on earth for the first English settlers. During one famine, some people dug their own graves, laid down in them and just waited to die. Jamestown wasn't very successful, which was why the Pilgrims are usually thought of as the first real settlement colony for the United States.

One of my ancestors on my mother's side was a Jamestown settler. His name was William Farrar, and he came over in 1618 from Lincolnshire. That's one of the main reasons I'm interested in Jamestown (although I'm not a full-fledged genealogy person).

Sunny had a vacation journal in which he had to write five sentences for every day. He liked the museum, and the ship we saw in neighboring Yorktown, but also wrote that hearing about all the Indians killed in Jamestown made him sad.

Sunny's favorite museum, of course, was the National Air and Space Museum. There are plenty of cool things to touch and pull and push and climb... it's a wonderland for a kid his age.

We took a tour through the WWII Pacific room. I looked for an exhibit on Japanese soldiers, but all they had was a single one on kamikaze pilots. I don't really blame the museum, since there weren't many exhibits on German soldiers in the other hall, either. But I do wish the Japanese could have been represented by something other than kamikaze pilots. I didn't draw it to Sunny's attention. Too complicated.

I did point to a picture of a Japanese battleship and explain that Ojiichan's father died when American fighter planes sunk his battleship. Because Ojiichan's father, my grandfather, died and sunk to the bottom of the ocean, we never got to meet him. I said that the Japanese were on the wrong side in the war and the Americans were on the right side, so it's a good thing we Americans won, but it was still a very sad thing that Ojiichan's father had to die like that.

Sunny said, "If I was around back then, I would save Ojiichan's father!" What a sweet boy.

Later on, we had dinner with my Guy's colleague who lives in DC. This was the first time I'd ever met her, although she and Guy have been friends for a while. She's a Japanese-American woman one generation older than me. I told her about what Sunny had said in the WWII Pacific exhibit, and she remarked, "My father was probably trying to sink your grandfather's battleship." She explained that in WWII her family had all their property seized in California and were taken to an internment camp, and from there her father volunteered, and ended up in the Pacific translating Japanese communications for American military intelligence.

Some people can't afford to be bitter and angry about the past. We have to remember, but we also have to move on. I thought of grief and letting go, and our strange relationship to WWII, when I read this recent article about the aftershocks of a war that's even further away in time.

Sunny said that he didn't understand hardly anything Guy's friend had just explained. I told him it was all very complicated history, but he would understand more when he got older.

Break Explanation - and Legacy of Shame!

This is the longest break I've ever taken on this blog! But there's no emergency or anything. Well, we did try and take Sunny off his medication, but the attempt failed horribly, so we're going to try again later this summer, and if that doesn't work, hold it off for another year.

Other than that, I've just been extremely busy. I'll be on vacation next week though.

And I did break my blogging hiatus just last night, in a rather incendiary way: David Carradine's Legacy of Shame is up at Racialicious and APA for Progress as well.

Global Day of Action...

... for Troy Davis. Please follow the link to sign a petition.

AMNESTY INTERNATIONAL - USA Online Action Center
Support Clemency for Troy Davis
Take Action On This Issue

Troy Davis faces execution for the murder of Police Officer Mark MacPhail in Georgia, despite a strong claim of innocence. 7 out of 9 witnesses have recanted or contradicted their testimony, no murder weapon was found and no physical evidence links Davis to the crime. The Georgia Board of Pardon and Paroles has voted to deny clemency, yet Governor Perdue can still exercise leadership to ensure that his death sentence is commuted. Please urge him to demonstrate respect for fairness and justice by supporting clemency for Troy Davis.

Update and Link

We have a lot of stuff going on this week, but I'm too tired to blog it! Sunny's behavior got really bad, then got better again. My health has not been great, either... I have a nasty sore throat right now.

I should mention that I had another guest post on Racialicious called "Geishas and Whores". It's a deeper exploration of an issue I've already touched on in the early days of this blog. The title turned out to be less controversial than the editor and I predicted. I guess I did a good job of explaining my word choices within the body of the piece. Commenters have already added a lot of interesting discussion.

Missing Mothers

I had a very nice day today.

Guy took Sunny out to the country to see his mother (Grandma) and her husband (Pawpaw). By the way, I'm not allowed to use the word "stepfather" because Pawpaw is actually a few years younger than Guy. This is a rule Guy always insists on, although I've never seen an age exclusion clause in any dictionary under the word "stepfather". Pawpaw has a shed in back of Grandma's house with a Harley-Davidson and a four-wheeler/ATV, which he let Sunny ride with him... yikes. Pawpaw isn't very mature and I think he only just barely counts as adult supervision. Sunny definitely had a lot of fun, though.

Meanwhile, I had a quiet day with my own mother. We went to a Korean restaurant on Buford Highway for brunch. I bought her a sewing machine for Mother's Day and we did some sewing together at her house, then I took a long nap, which I really needed. We talked a little bit about her mother, my own Nana, who died of emphysema 15 years ago.

Later on, we came back home, and Sunny spent most of the rest of the day playing outside with his friends. His behavior recently has been great. He hasn't had any violent fits or name-calling for almost two weeks now. He's given me several little presents for Mother's Day... what a sweetheart.

We talked to Sunny's foster mom in the morning. She has two new placements, a newborn baby girl and a 10-year-old girl. BB is doing very well and has been working on his crawling technique. Right now he can only crawl to the right, not the left, so if he crawls around the edge of the playpen and hits an obstacle, he yells until someone comes along and moves him back to the right spot so he can start again.

I did feel a little sad that he's growing up so fast. Even if he's placed with us soon, I won't get to carry him around for very long. Just a little sad though... it's a weird kind of limbo, but I'm used to it and I don't dwell on it much.

I steeled myself for the most difficult part of the day, which is talking to Sunny's bio grandma. It's just that she often says things that I don't feel confident about responding to. For example, every time we talk, she tells me how Sunny's mother's last wish is that we would adopt BB. Since we talk to her every one to two weeks I've heard this a lot, and every time I say a few sympathetic words, but really, it's hard to know what to say.

She told me that her day had been very rough... until she talked to Sunny, and then she felt much better.

Her own mother, Sunny's great-grandmother, has dementia and emphysema, and it looks like she's stopped eating and is going to die soon. I know what that's going to be like because that's how my own grandmother went. It's a hard way. Her brother lives close by, but it's going to be her job to handle the end. That sounds awfully familiar. It's so often that the men in a family don't have the strength when it really counts. I hate to be bitter, I've just seen and heard it happen way too many times.

She told me she made a wreath this morning and went to her daughter's grave and sat and talked to her for a long time.

She hasn't been sleeping well because of the stress. She says she won't take any medication, but when she feels really down, she talks to the parish priest.

We did have some lighter moments during the call. She told me all about the kinds of vegetables Sunny's mom would and wouldn't eat, and we compared them to Sunny's own vegetable ranking. She told me how her children always hated to crawl and how they liked to spend only a few weeks crawling before they started walking and running.

Like I posted yesterday, I feel very privileged today. I also feel aware of all the missing mothers and all those missing their mothers.

Sentimental about Mother's Day

Sunny has a secret plan for Mother's Day. Plan formulation has been ongoing for several days now. He'll go over to Guy, whisper in Guy's ear, then turn to me and say "DID YOU HEAR THAT, MOM?" "No." "GOOD, IT'S A SECRET!"

Guy let me in on it. Sunny wants to get me a caramel apple for Mother's Day.

I feel really privileged and really sentimental to have someone who loves me like that.

Just this morning we were talking about one of the neighborhood kids. His family situation is a bit fuzzy, but he's not living with his mother. Sunny got confused about the details and said "He must have been really shy when he met his parents, like I was shy when I met you." I explained that his friend wasn't adopted, so he never had a time when he met totally new parents.

It reminded me of the day we first met.

Outside his foster mom's house, I took a deep breath. Guy seemed to be doing a lot better than I was. It took me about half a minute to pull myself together after I got out of the car.

Then the social worker led us in. We met his foster mom. We moved deeper into the house, toward a sofa in the den. Perched anxiously on the sofa was a little boy with huge brown eyes. He looked so fragile, so vulnerable, almost like a fawn. As soon as he saw us, he said "Hi Mom! Hi Dad!"

It's impossible for me to imagine just how important that moment was for him, how much courage it took...

The Power of Triracial Mystification

Guy says he can't wait for me to blog about this, so here it goes.

The other day we had someone in the house trying to repair our washing machine. He was an elderly white man with one of those verra verra gentle Jawja accents. As usual, Sunny was in and out of the house playing with his friends.

At one point, his friends burst in and collected him to go outside and ride scooters.

As he was walking out, the repairman looked at Guy, and then looked at me, increasingly more mystified.

"Excuse me, but I'm wondering... those kids... they're black... and you're Chinese... and you're Caucasian..."

Me: "I'm not Chinese, I'm half-Japanese and half-white."

"I thought you were Chinese."

Me: "I'm not."

Guy, in a cheery voice: "Well I'm 100% white!"

"Your kids... they're black... and you're... and he's..."

I finally soothed his mental anguish by communicating that two of the three kids were neighbors, and that Sunny was adopted. He was quite relieved, and immediately launched into a rambling anecdote about a couple from his church who were both white but their kids they had adopted were both black. Then he made his awkward exit.

I'm used to being called Chinese. As long as people accept my correction gracefully, I don't get angry. I reserve getting angry for those occasions when people actually ARGUE WITH ME after I correct them.

Surprisingly enough, this is the first time I have had to answer awkward questions about race when it comes to Sunny. I think a lot of people assume he's my biological son, or else they're just way too polite to ask questions like "Is he adopted or did you cheat on your husband with Tiger Woods or something?" Guy also doesn't really get a lot of questions. A Japanese-American woman he met in a doctor's lobby ended up quizzing him once, but that was understandable, since Sunny had been telling her about his ojiichan.

Sunny is going to get a lot of questions as he grows up, but I'm not that worried about him. He seems less vulnerable than most kids because of his unique combination of self-confidence, extroversion and stubbornness. He's the kind of kid that's always telling jokes and bossing other kids around too much and in general taking things too far... but who is still incredibly popular because he's so dynamic and fun to be around. Kids are always knocking at our door asking to play with Sunny, even though all of them are actually older than he is.

It reminds me of an anecdote an adoptive parent couple told us during training. The father was black, the mother was white and they had adopted two black sons. Their very different personalities led to very different responses when classmates asked them, "why is your momma white?" One would say, "Because God made her that way" and the other would say, "Because she IS!" I'm more of the introverted type who wants to communicate the reason. Sunny is the type who doesn't have that priority, it just is what it is, and if you have a problem with that, well then... hey look over there, it's something shiny! Watch me do a backflip!

I think we'll all have it pretty easy until Sunny hits the teenage years and starts having a racial identity crisis, but I've got a good therapist on speed dial for then.

Introducing Presente

I'm passing this along at the request of Nezua from The Unapologetic Mexican. He's working on a new online initiative -- Presente-- standing up for immigration justice for Latino communities.

Of course, this is a huge issue in Georgia. There are all kinds of anti-immigrant whacko politicians around here (merely one example). They hate all kinds of "furriners" but Latino immigrants do bear the brunt of it. It's frustrating try to figure out ways how to fight against them.

I look forward to signing up and hearing more about Presente.

Presente.org seeks to strengthen the political voice of Latino communities. Using the Internet, we give our members ongoing opportunities for action on the issues they care about. Our goal is to unite Latinos of all generations, nationalities, and regions, together with allies from other communities. It all starts with the simple pledge below. Join us. ¡Adelante!

The Pledge
Be Counted!

"We, the undersigned, call for an end to immigration policies that divide families, deny educational access, and exploit workers. We agree to stand up and be counted on the issues that matter to Latino communities. With a unified voice we can't be ignored. Together we will become a powerful online community that promotes justice and holds our leaders accountable. We will be Presente."

I'll also mention another Nezua-collaboration site, The Sanctuary, for coverage of the recent disgusting attempts to use swine flu to attack Mexicans.

Close to Home

It's on the national news. Eleven-year-old Jaheem Herrera killed himself because of severe emotional abuse. This story hits close to home because I happen to know a boy who was in the same school and grade and class as Jaheem Herrera. I'm never going to look at him the same way.

I know from my own experience how isolated Jaheem must have felt. If just one single kid in the class had stood up for him, he probably would have been saved.

I never wanted to kill myself, but I was pretty desperate. For years, I used to lie awake at night hoping that aliens would abduct me in my sleep so I wouldn't have to go to school the next morning. The abuse I went through was primarily racial, but it had other elements as well... I wasn't good at gender-conforming, and got called a lesbian a fair number of times.

It sounds like what Jaheem went through was primarily about gender-conforming but had racial/ethnic elements as well. I know the school in question is not diverse (almost entirely African-American), and although I don't know how Jaheem's family identified, it's obvious he didn't fit in.

From My bullied son's last day on Earth
Bermudez says bullies at school pushed Jaheem over the edge. He complained about being called gay, ugly and "the virgin" because he was from the Virgin Islands, she said.

"He used to say Mom they keep telling me this ... this gay word, this gay, gay, gay. I'm tired of hearing it, they're telling me the same thing over and over," she told CNN, as she wiped away tears from her face.

But while she says her son complained about the bullying, she had no idea how bad it had gotten.

"He told me, but he just got to the point where he didn't want me to get involved anymore because nothing was done," she said.

Bermudez said she complained to the school about bullying seven or eight times, but it wasn't enough to save him.

"It [apparently] just got worse and worse and worse until Thursday," she said. "Just to walk up to that room and see your baby hanging there. My daughter saw this, my baby saw this, my kids are traumatized."

She said Jaheem was a shy boy just trying to get a good education and make friends.

"He was a nice little boy," Bermudez said through her tears. "He loved to dance. He loved to have fun. He loved to make friends. And all he made [at school] were enemies."

Bermudez said she thinks her son felt like nobody wanted to help him, that nobody stood up and stopped the bullies.

"Maybe he said 'You know what -- I'm tired of telling my mom, she's been trying so hard, but nobody wants to help me,' " says Bermudez.

I feel so sorry for him. But at least he was happy once upon a time, before he came here and started the period of misery that ended his life.

I don't know what to do, but I have a few ideas. I'm going to continue writing about my own experiences with abuse in school and giving advice on the topic where I can. I'm not calling it bullying anymore, because "bully" is too light of a word. I can't be an advocate in any more public sense, however. I can be very articulate in person but not on this subject. I can write about it, but it's almost impossible for me to talk about it.

I'm going to talk to Sunny about Jaheem Herrera, and show him his photo, and explain that it happened because other kids called him "gay" and were mean to him. I'll try to find some way of telling him that I don't want Sunny to ever abuse anyone in that way, and more importantly, to stand up for kids who are being abused, because if you don't, you could end up being guilty for the rest of your life. And finally, that if he was ever a victim, I'd pull him out of school and do whatever it takes to protect him.

This story is running together in my head with another story I heard second-hand from my mother, about a discussion she had with a man who had been one of the "Lost Boys" of the Sudan. Our family has connections to refugee families, including some Sudanese, though I don't want to go into any more identifying detail on the connections.

Anyway, the man said he was willing to share his story because he considered himself an advocate. His story involved some very simple math. His group tried to go Ethiopia, but the Ethiopians expelled them back into Sudan. So on their next attempt, they walked 500 miles from Khartoum into Kenya. There were 800 of them when they started walking. There were 300 when they arrived. Wild animals, starvation, disease and soldiers had killed the rest. He was seven years old.

I couldn't even imagine. The same age as my son...

I actually tried reading "What is the What", the story of former "Lost Boy" Valentino Achak Deng, but I gave up less than 100 pages in because it was making me so unbearably sad. It's hard to say what was worse, going through all the nightmare of the civil war, or being so poorly treated in America, just when he thought he was safe.

And then many of the children of the refugees end up in poorly managed public schools where they suffer tremendous abuse for not "fitting in".

In this country that's supposed to be so rich and civilized, we can't even keep children safe in schools.

Testing

Sunny has the CRCT this week. That's the big important statewide test for Georgia.

I think there's a general overemphasis on testing in public education, especially in the context of the horribly failed policy of No Child Left Behind. However, I'm really pushing for Sunny to do well on these tests. We're promising him some major swag if he gets good scores. I told him that he usually only gets toys on his birthday and Christmas, but he has an opportunity to earn one with the CRCT.

If he had a different personality, I wouldn't be pushing him as much, or at all. But he's got a lot of self-confidence and competitive spirit. He loves competing. He will do almost anything (eat vegetables, put away clothes) if we can frame it as a race.

Right now, his competitiveness is harming him at school as much as it's helping him. He always wants to be the first to finish so he can yell "DONE!" I'm trying to get him to shift his focus and asking him to compete against the test and compete against himself. I've explained that the best achievement is beating yourself... establishing your own goal and then surpassing it, like the "personal best" of a marathon runner. It's a fairly subtle point so I doubt he understands it yet, but if I keep repeating it, it should eventually sink in.

Since he gets so easily frustrated with us over homework, we're not personally doing any test prep. That would be a recipe for blow-ups. Instead, we've increased his tutoring sessions to three times a week.

I know he can do really well if he just slows down and focuses. His tutor is reinforcing that point as well. According to his 504 plan, he'll have special accommodations at testing time, away from the other kids, and I think that's going to help him focus.

I had an interesting talk with my other cousin last week -- the one who used to have severe ADHD. He was in town visiting my older cousin. He got very emotional when he talked about his own education and gave me some warnings based on his own experience. He felt his mother simply gave up on him when it came to school. My aunt is loving, but disgustingly passive, and I could see her accepting without a complaint anything that any authority figure told her needed to be done. He was put into a self-contained classroom. "They just warehoused me with the retards for six years." I would never use that word myself, but that's how he phrased it. He was finally mainstreamed in junior high, but by that point he'd barely learned to read. He's obviously very bitter about it. He wanted me to make sure that I wouldn't do that to Sunny, and I reassured him I wouldn't.

Although I think our schools overemphasize testing, and that approach only serves a minority (as in cognitive skills minority)... I have to admit, I've benefited from it. I'm a great test-taker. There's something about the application of brute intellectual force, problem by problem, that fits well with my psychology. On the other hand, my mother is brilliant with puzzles, as was my grandfather, and I never inherited that. I have no patience for them.

My mother once bought me a Rubik's cube, but she was the one that learned to solve it, not me. For one birthday, she got me a $20-dollar bill embedded in a clear plastic sliding puzzle, and I spent about half a minute trying to solve it before I got so mad I took a hammer and went to the garage and smashed it to bits so I could get the money. And I was great at math up to the algebra level, and then I became hopeless at it, probably because the nature of the problems began to resemble puzzles. I also failed to inherit my father's genius for languages. But I always did great at any kind of standardized test.

Test-taking is a skill you can learn. It doesn't really reflect what you know, although a good base of general knowledge does help. It's a fairly arbitrary skill, but it's an incredibly important one in today's society.

I always approached tests in a hostile manner. I'd glare at the test a while, psyche myself up, silently threaten it, then take out my pencil and begin beating it into submission.

I don't know if Sunny is going to develop good test-taking skills or not. Still, I'm going to keep my expectations high. If he doesn't succeed in this area, I'm sure he will succeed in other areas.

Anyway, according to this article, what I do as a parent doesn't matter anyway. Ha! Seriously, I do agree with the article's premise that parents drastically underestimate the importance of the peer group. I've complained about this tendency innumerable times when it comes to transracial adoption, but it's worth noting again... it's a general parenting issue too.

Joy Luck Hub Submission

This sounds like an interesting project, so I'm submitting my own entry. 299 words...

When people found out I was "half-Japanese" they would always ask me about my Japanese mother. In their minds, my story was already written. My father was a white military man, my mother a Japanese girl he had married and taken away back to the States when his post was finished. In the beginning I was simply confused by how wrong this story was. Later on, it made me angry that people kept imposing it on me.

When they met, my mother was a radical hippie and my father was a hippie radical. He made his own sandals out of used car tires, and was once jailed for punching a policeman in a student riot in Tokyo. He loved retelling the anecdote: "Pig hit me with stick. So I punch pig. Then pig take me to jail!" We lived briefly in England during the 70s, and the Sex Pistols caught his imagination, for obvious reasons. He used to sing me to sleep with "God save the queen, iza fascist regime," which he intoned in a bizarre but somewhat credible imitation of a cockney accent.

My parents raised me with bits and pieces of the traditions they were raised with. They also raised me not accept authority at face value, and to question any claims to an ultimate truth.

So I didn't ever experience a "Joy Luck" clash between a sense of Asian tradition and American modernity. I was always on the outside looking in, no matter where I lived. This wasn't easy. In fact, it was incredibly painful. I had no hometown, no home culture, nowhere to stand my feet... and nothing to rebel against in order to define myself. But I still like my own story much better than the stories other people try to force onto me.

Dope Boys

We had Sunny in a spring break camp for last week. My schedule, Guy's schedule and my mother's schedule were all very busy, so we thought it would be better than having Sunny stay home and mostly complain about being bored during the day.

The organization that holds the camp is pretty close to us and has a good reputation. Sunny had fun and got lots of time playing outdoors... but we're both feeling very ambivalent about the camp and are not going to do it again next year.

This is a difficult subject to talk about, but we don't want Sunny associating too much with some of the children that went there.

The last day, when Guy came to pick him up, he overheard an older boy talking about how some other boy wanted to be a dope boy just like he was. Being a drug dealer (or more likely, pretending to be a drug dealer) is not something elementary-aged kids should be doing!

Also, Sunny told me a girl called him a bitch. He said he went to tell an adult, and I complimented him for that decision. If I was minding kids that age, I would want to know if they started using such bad language so I could go break it up.

A lot of the kids came from a very low-income part of the neighborhood and could pay a subsidized rate for the spring break camp.

I've had both friendly discussions and heated arguments with Guy over the subject of class. And class is the looming issue here... of course race is involved, but it's not the most important aspect. Sunny's friends at school are almost all black, his neighborhood block friends are all black, his summer camp is majority black... but they're all also middle-class. They're from families that have enough resources so that they can be really involved with their kids' lives, they can demand high standards in education, and they're able to minimize contact with horrible negative stuff like crack dealing.

I know that the poorer parents living in the dilapidated apartment blocks one mile and another world up the street from us want exactly the same things for their kids... they just don't have the resources to do it.

Guy admits he has a stronger reaction against what he sees as low-class behavior. He grew up in a small-town Georgia setting where his family wasn't at the bottom, but they were a lot closer to the bottom than the top. The bad things that happen to lower-class small-town white kids aren't that much different than the bad things that happen to lower-class urban black kids, except that the drug of choice is meth instead of crack.

People who grow up in protected settings (and this means me, because I also had a solid middle-class existence for a crucial stretch of my life) have a certain freedom from class-related fears. But if you grew up a few rungs from the bottom, and saw some kids fall off that ladder, that's a lesson that's going to stay with you the rest of your life.... and it might cause you to make much harsher judgments than otherwise.

I see a related kind of issue with my stepfather, who did grow up at the bottom of the ladder. Often, he won't want to take advantage of certain disability or insurance claims because he's got this weird idea that that's what lazy white trash does, game the system, and he's not like that anymore, and then my mother has to browbeat him into actually claiming the money he's entitled to.

I think Guy is often too paranoid... when he sees a group of dangerous kids that might shoot us, I see a group of rowdy teenagers, like we used to be a while back.

However, in this case, I agree 100% with Guy. I don't want Sunny to be exposed to any group of kids that thinks being a dope boy is a worthy real-life ambition. It's not like we're keeping him in an ivory tower. We live on the edge of a huge, constantly changing city, and he's going to come in contact with this stuff. I just want to minimize it as much as possible. I don't want him to look down on people from lower-class families, or be afraid of them, but I do want him to have a healthy sense of caution and know how to stay out of trouble. Atlanta is a very dangerous city, especially for a young black man. It's a difficult balancing act... I guess you'll have to check back in 12 years to see how it all works out!

From "Dope Boys" by T.I.

A crack a ki' a crumb do it fifty mo' times
The quarter go for 5 and the half go for 9
Still in the trapp wit them break down dimes
Hit me on the hipper anytime, I don't mind
Why y'all n****s bitching on and whining I'm a grind
Shack it in the winter and the summer I'm a shine (getting mine)
It's plenty of money to be made from Candler Road to Bankhead
It's plenty of room to get paid for those that ain't scared
I got the hard for the j's and dro' for the dank heads
The dope game still strong like pimping ain't dead

Very short update on BB

This is going to be very short because there's not much of anything happening.

We're chugging through the paperwork that will keep us up-to-date as a licensed pre-adoptive home, just in case things with BB start moving faster. The part I hate the most is the drug test. The lab closest to me is a dimly lit hole-in-the-wall with a filthy bathroom, and the whole place smells very suspicious.

The foster mom told me that BB has just started learning how to crawl this week. It's nice to hear that, but it also makes me sad that I'm missing all these milestones.

I may try calling BB's dad again and checking in with him. The last time I talked to him was about three weeks ago. Since then, like I'd told him, I mailed him some pictures of BB from the March visit.

The last time we talked, I told him that he should call the worker and set up visits with BB, but the foster mom said she hasn't heard anything at all from him (he has her number, also).

This weekend I had a great talk with our neighbor about Sunny and his issue. They're a really interesting family. The mom works with teenagers in foster care in a group home. Their son is middle-school aged and autistic (Asperger's syndrome). He's not very physically active and doesn't have a lot of friends his own age, but he gets along fine with younger kids and older kids and adults. The neighbors love it when Sunny keeps knocking on their door and bugging their son to come out and play with him.

I had a frank talk with her about the raging, because I know her son is easily upset by strong displays of emotion. She was really sympathetic and offered to help as much as she could. She's not worried about Sunny, since he's always had great behavior around their house and with her son. Her son has never been aggressive, but she has a lot of experience with aggressive acting out at her job, and with raising an adult stepson who has autism plus bipolar.

Return of the Raging

Sunny has been doing really well for the last several weeks. In fact, last week, his behavior marks in school have been some of the best he's ever received.

He's had a few tantrums where we had to hustle him into the back seat of the car, but they've blown over in a few minutes.

Yesterday night, he seemed really hyper and out of control around bedtime. It took a long time to get him to bed.

Today, he had two rages. The first one was in the early afternoon and took 10-15 minutes. I was driving him to dance class, and he was really angry because I had enforced the "no Legos" rule and told him he couldn't bring his Legos in the car. We only got a few blocks from home before I had to pull over. I don't know if I handled it well, perhaps I could have de-escalated better somehow, but I wasn't thinking on my toes... when I pulled over and just sat there silently for a few seconds thinking about what to do next, the silence wound him up to the point that he started throwing and screaming, and I had to get into the back seat to hold him down for a while.

I ended up driving back to the house because I didn't think he was in a good enough mood for dance class, and we also would have been late because of the altercation anyway. I thought he was doing better. We've established that any attempt at hitting means no TV or DVD for the rest of the day, but I let him play outside for a while instead.

Then, as we were all getting ready to go to my mother's house for dinner, he had another and even stronger raging episode. It started because I asked him to put away the Uno cards he'd been playing with.

I had to hold him down for a long time. This takes so much out of me, emotionally and physically. He would cry and scream that I was hurting him, holding him too tight... I kept telling him "I love you, but I won't let you hurt other people or hurt yourself" and "you're a good boy, I know you don't want to do this, you can calm yourself down" and "I will let you go once you take responsibility for your behavior." If I loosened my hold on his wrists for even a second he would slip free, try to kick out the car windows, try to bite me or punch me in the face. Then when I held on to his wrists harder again, it would be back to the "you're hurting me."

The worst were the few times he fooled me by saying he was sorry, all he wanted was a hug, then when I relaxed my hold, he would try and attack me or scream insults at me.

I knew he was finally coming out of it when he patted me on the arm softly while he was sobbing. I could finally let him go and hug him.

Guy was watching outside the car during this time. I would rather hold Sunny down myself. I can do it showing less negative emotion than Guy, and I'm also much softer, so there's less chance of Sunny actually getting banged or bruised.

When it was all over Sunny was very remorseful. We had a frank talk. Guy asked Sunny what he would do if someone tried to hit him like he tried to hit us. Sunny said he would hold them down or hit them back... we said we would never hit him back, and hitting is wrong.

I told him we all had to do work to control his anger, and that the neurofeedback was part of trying to teach him how to control his anger. I also told him that I would keep holding him down when he started hitting, but in a few years, I wouldn't be able to do that anymore, because he'd be way too strong. And when that happened, and he hurt anyone, we'd have to call the police instead. He asked if they would take him to jail. I said no, little boys wouldn't go to jail, but he would go to the hospital, and it wouldn't be fun at all. Which is why we had to work hard right now to make sure he could control his anger and calm himself down before he started hitting.

He's already very, very strong.

We've already talked about the worst case. Guy was driving me crazy with scenarios when the raging first started... he was literally keeping me up at night worrying about it. My attitude is that we'll worry about it when it actually happens. We have a few years to turn things around before we get to that tipping point. Recently, Guy has arrived at the more pragmatic stage, and we're both maintaining there. In fact he reminded me again, today, "we have several years."

I'm not angry about it, just mildly rueful, but I've realized that there must have been a tacit conspiracy to downplay Sunny's behavior. Sunny's worker talked about tantrums, but said he was not violent towards other people... that the worst he did was kicking his feet. When you hear that, you imagine "kicking feet at floor" not "kicking feet at glass windows and other people's heads".

Anyway, his foster mom confirmed he had some of the same behavior when he was living with them... in fact, she wondered how long it would take for it to show up with us. The answer was about eight months.

We'll just have to wait and see. There've been only been four sessions of neurofeedback so far. Later, we can also see if going off meds will help, or perhaps even increasing them... if that's what he really, really needs.

I also don't want to get complacent about holding Sunny down. I don't want this to become our new normal. There has to be something else we can do to stop the raging before it erupts. I can see it coming, but so far I just feel powerless to stop it.

His adoption finalization date is within a month. It's hard to know what it means to him. We've talked about it, I've even told him it's OK to feel weird or sad about it, he just doesn't seem to attach any importance to it that I can tell. We're already mom and dad.

This is so depressing. I just want to get back to worrying about more typical things, like the CRCT testing and his soccer team and his next round of clothes and so on.

We went to my mother's house and had dinner and Sunny behaved pretty well, although Guy noticed that his positive and negative reactions seemed to be more intense than usual. And then he went to sleep easily, unlike last night. Maybe he's worked it out of his system for a while.

Blood Pressure Rising!

Before I go off and say nembutsu for a while to calm down, here's the interchange that got my blood boiling.

Stage One:
A transracial adoptee writes a post about changing her name to a Korean one at 8asians.com. An elegant piece with what seems like a perfectly understandable viewpoint.

Stage Two:
Supportive comments from some non-adopted Asian-Americans and white adoptive parents.

Stage Three:
Whacko troll calls her an ungrateful communist wretch.

I have a different reaction to people like this than other reform-minded adoptive parents, and also from transracial adoptees. I've been an adoptive parent, or studying to be one, for a few years. But I've been an Asian-American all my life. When I see comments like the one below, adoption is one of the furthest things from my mind; instead, a siren explodes in my head that goes WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP RACIST ATTACK WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP.

By every indication, Chun-Soon Li is American. except for adoption at birth. She has only one family, also American, and by blood only, she has a link to a Korean woman who birthed her, but whom she has never met. And the gifts she brought from Korea to America are limited to her genetic make up, and her life. The articulate nature of her posts, and (those in her support), lead me to believe all of you has benefited from a stable upbringing, significant educational opportunities, and complete freedom from material want, as is the American tradition.

[...]

Such an apt illustration of the soullessness of this horse sh*t movement. The attack is on me and other parents who have had the nerve to adopt internationally. Its implicit, here, though powerfully stated. Unfortunately, there was a time when it was explicit and directed towards good friends of mine. The decision to adopt is by its very nature, extremely personal and soul searching. Theirs is a typical profile, after many years of trying, they exhausted other means to have children naturally, and had recently arrived back in the US with a delightful Chinese daughter, proud and happy parents. A group of us were celebrating, and were somehow introduced to some academics from out of town. After several minutes of small talk, the conversation turned to this very subject, at which time one of the academics proceeded to berate the family with the new arrival; that this baby should have never left China, it was all wrong to take babies from their “culture”. and that it amounted to an act of “cultural imperialism” by the parents (the new mother, now in uncontrollable tears). I noticed a certain satisfaction in this academic woman, a certain smug, “mission accomplished” look about her when she was done.

I’m assuming all of you know better than to try to inject yourself into the private family matters of all-Asian families—that being largely Confucian and conservative—they would hand you your head. Unfortunately, parents adopting internationality tend to liberal, and vulnerable.

I guess it takes academia to elevate every grievance and perceived slight to an equal level with all others, and I really wouldn’t care if the Korean/American adoptee’s plaint were simply: “its all about me” in fact, I’d have some sympathy—but that’s not the case. This movement seeks to inject itself into the very personal and private family decisions of families like mine: “Its all about me, so I want YOU to change”

But there are, as Jackson Brown sings, those: who’s “lives hang in the balance” and their fate is callously, even studiously ignored by this horse shit movement. “Kim, sometimes “politically correct” is, simply, correct.” And Chun-Soon Li, how many times did we hear that last century, and its equivalent—just before the ax fell snuffing out thousands of lives?

Several weeks ago, I got a call from an old friend who had just seen SlumdogMillionare: “you know, I now think I really understand what you’ve been trying to tell me about orphans all these years” —good Kev, except it was staged in India—by Bollywood. Still, the flick does seem to project a certain fundamental truth, as good fiction often does.

So with China in mind, first an account about those who didn’t even get the basic gift all of you adoptees received. Its also noteworthy for those who believe China’s one-child policy is the cause of the massive disparity of boys to girls that these events happened well before PR China:

“Infanticide in a starving city like this is dreadfully common. For the parents, seeing their children must be doomed to poverty, think it better at once to let the soul escape in search of a more happy asylum than to linger in one condemned to want and wretchedness. The infanticide is, however, exclusively confined to the destruction of female children, the sons being permitted to live in order to continue the ancestral sacrifices.

One mother I met, who was employed by this mission, told the missionary in ordinary conversation that she had suffocated in turn three of her female children within a few days of birth: and, when f fourth was born, so enraged was her husband to discover that it was a girl also that he seized it by the legs and struck it against the wall and killed it.

Dead children, and often living infants, are thrown out on the common among the grave mounds, and be seen there any morning being gnawed by dogs. Mr. Tremberth of the Bible Christian Mission, leaving by the south gate early one morning, disturbed a dog eating a still living child that had been thrown over the wall in the night. Its little arm was crunched and stripped of flesh, and it was whining inarticulately - it died almost immediately.”

Fast-forward now to the current plight of China’s unwanted girls—how bad is it? Its not easy to know, and I’m not going to quote alot more, but to get a perspective, I suggest those interested Google: “The mystery of China’s lost girls” (Asia Times)

Here's my response. I just can't bring myself to present nuanced counterarguments about the voice of the adoptee when the base for his entire worldview is built on a smug white supremacy. I reject it entirely. I think this also shows why I don't involve myself in any kind of environment where people like this are free to spew their verbal abuse. It's way too upsetting. I can't believe how much it sucks that transracial adoptees so often get entangled in arguments with people like this. They don't deserve it... well, no one deserves it, but they really, really, really don't deserve it.

atlasien wrote:

Some points in Kim’s loopy racist rant:

– Asians are inarticulate. Only those who have been sufficiently assimilated can speak English, much less have articulate opinions.

– Adoptees are not allowed to speak about their own experiences. Unlike regular children, they never grow up, and their parents are in charge of interpreting their life forever.

– Being an adoptive parent means you’re white… and Chinese children are never adopted by Chinese or Chinese-Americans. Oh yes, and these adoptive parents are always blameless martyrs whose choices are always above criticism.

– All Asian families are “conservative and Confucian”. This is a neat little generalization showing that Kim is not Asian (whew!) and learned all he knows about Asian cultures from a combination of fortune cookie messages and an adoption agency brochure.

– paragaph [5]: combine irrelevant Jackson Browne lyric, insinuation of creeping communism, ludicrous mixed metaphor about axes snuffing out candles (?!?), place in blender, press “liquefy intelligent thought” (I suppose this wasn’t a point at all)

– Some stories about female infanticide from a century ago proving that the HEATHEN CHINEE are an evil race and should not be trusted to raise their own children. Nevermind that around that same time period in the American West, Chinese immigrants were being randomly lynched and murdered by angry white mobs in organized ethnic cleansing programs.

It must severely disturb similar racist troglodytes to hear that China has been increasing domestic adoption to the point where they’ll probably shut down international soon. But I guess they’ll always have their racist stereotypes to comfort themselves with.

Help Finding Japanese International Adoptee

I've wanted to write this post for several weeks, but other things kept getting in the way. More likely, it's a very sad subject for me because it brings up some frustration. But I need to get it out there, so here it comes.

I know a woman from a forum who, just like me, is the child of an adoptee from Japan and also an adoptive parent. She goes by "celebratewewill" on the forum. Her mother is the adoptee. C's mother is dying and C is trying to uncover her roots in Japan.

My father and her mother were both indirect victims of WWII. My father's bio father died on a battleship in the Pacific, his mother died shortly thereafter, and he was sent away to a family in a mountain village that could take him in. C's mother was found/abandoned/given up after the war. She was taken to an orphanage and adopted internationally by an American couple.

My father is 100% Japanese (though he may not be fully ethnic Japanese, but that's another story) both biologically and culturally. C's mother is mixed-race and was raised in America, and was not interested in looking back. What they both have in common is the stoic survivor mentality. The past is past, there's no use talking about it, suck it up and move on.

Being the child of an adoptee with this kind of perspective can be frustrating. We have a major gap in our history. As my father said once as he was in a poetic mood, "my family tree is withered".

To explore our past, we have to travel through our parent's trauma. Do we have the right? Is this partly our story, or does it belong wholly to them? It's hard to weigh all the ethical and emotional factors.

These frustrated yearnings wax and wane over a lifetime. At times of birth and death, they become especially powerful.

C's mother will soon pass away, and the link to her ancestors will become more tenuous.

Here are some details she provided me:

• The details I have are almost all verbal, and who knows how much as been added or subtracted. We do have a lot of "adoption papers" in Japanese, if i can find where they are hidden in my parent's house. Her papers have her name as Misao Okuno (I am going on memory only, I may have mispelled), dob 8-11-52.
• My dad says he remembers my grandpa (mom's dad) mentioning a "Reny Sawada" who ran the orphanage; he thought it was a Catholic orphanage, and they targeted Americans to adopt these children who were half Japanese. I found a Miki Sawada who fits this, the Elizabeth Sanders Home. But i'm thinking if she was just brought to the home by a stranger, no name or dob would be available. I don't know how often the children's mothers brought them directly to the orphanage; anything I can find is that these children were found on the street, sometimes dead. I don't know really how her original name and bday could have remained with her.
• My dad said that a few years ago, he contacted the japanese embassy and forwarded copies of all the papers they have. They couldn't figure out where she got her name (I don't know if that meant they did a search of her name and hometown, though, like you suggested). Next time I'm down visiting, I'm going to make copies of everything for myself.
• My dad does remember my mom's dad telling him that the orphanage told him she was Japanese/Portuguese. How they would have known that is beyond me, if she was indeed found on the streets eating out of the garbage, as the story goes. It would explain my brother's appearance, but perhaps more Brazilian since he's so dark-skinned.

Here's some advice I gave her:

• In Japan there are very detailed family records called koseki. Back in that time period, all facts of birth and adoption would be recorded in the koseki. Today, to access the koseki for the home region you would need to prove your relation and right to access it. I know this stuff in general but I don't write or speak Japanese so I can't help anymore than that. It's not certain C's mother would be in the koseki under that name. When my dad wanted to find out more about his biological parents, all he had to do was go to the koseki and look them up.
  
• I suggested that C get a genetic test. That could at least tell her the ethnicity of her mother's mother. There are millions of Japanese-Brazilians, many of mixed ancestry, but I can't recall circumstances of why they would actually be in Japan during the immediate postwar period. Perhaps for reconstruction work? I am going to ask my dad about that next time he's in town.
  
• Adoption.com is a site I would never recommend because of multiple ethical challenges and censorship issues. Nevertheless, it's one of the highest-traffic adoption sites on the web. At the forum there were several adoptees who said they were adopted from the Elizabeth Sanders home. I suggested that C contact them and see if she could learn from their searches.
  

If you have any suggestions or resources please post them here or email me. You could also contact C directly by registering with Adoption Threads and messaging "celebratewewill".