Adoption Agencies Using Adoptees

 The Business Of Adoption Agencies From The Inside 

A Korean American Adoptee's Perspective

Tuesday, March 29, 2011 

By Kevin  - www.slanteyefortheroundeye.com

Please bear with me as I indulge some of my personal rants. Specifically, please be patient as I vent about the largest adoption agency in the lovely state of Minnesota.

My name is Kevin, and I’m what some call a KAD – Korean adoptee. Yes, I’m Asian. Yes, I’m Korean. Yes, I’m transracial. Yes, I love me some kimchi. And, no, strange girl from UCLA who opted to go off on Asian students, I don’t talk on the phone in the library.

I’m also a recovering “agency person” as well. A few years ago I worked for the largest adoption agency (as well as the second largest agency) in Minnesota.

Here begins my story . . .

During my time with this agency, I was a part of the team that recruited new, potential adoptive parents. I even worked with adoptive parents after they finalized their adoption to recruit other adoptive parents! It was fantastic. I was pretty good at my craft. Not as great as Blake from Glengarry Glen Ross, but I was a “closer.” Let’s just put it this way. There was a demand for a particular “product” and I helped meet that demand. Heck, I would go as far as to say that I even helped create a need for this demand.

At the same time, I was given the task of expanding the agency’s relationship with international and domestic adult adoptees, a significant group in its “constituency” with which it had an up-and-down relationship. Let’s just say that this agency had a knack for pissing off adoptees; it had a habit of blowing off adoptees and their thoughts and perspectives. In performing my duties as assigned, I attempted to cultivate deep relationships with some of the more vocal and active members of the adoptee community. I did so by reaching out to adult adoptees, meeting with them in person, inviting them into the agency to talk with members of the leadership, setting up an adoptee forum, creating an adult adoptee “advisory group,” etc. You know. I did all of that “relationship building” stuff.

Simultaneously, in performing my duties as assigned, I confronted, head on, the vocal and active members of the adoptee community who took issues with the practice and business of adoption. For instance, I had no qualms about openly criticizing adoptees involved in Adoptee Solidarity Korea (ASK) and Truth and Reconciliation for the Adoption Community of Korea (TRACK)!

Again, I was pretty good at my craft. I wasn’t a “closer,” but, at the very least, many of the adoptees with whom I engaged trusted that I was working on their behalf, which I too believed.

I was so naïve . . .

In the whole scheme of things, this adoption agency was good to me. It brought me to the states as a seven year old and placed me with my adoptive family in rural Minnesota. It was somewhat involved in my reconnection with my birth family in Korea. It additionally created a new position for me after I was let go by the second largest adoption agency in the state. And I made lifelong friends there; I consider one of its past vice presidents and directors true adoption advocates. Yeah, it was good to me.

Conversely, I was good for the agency. What better way to recruit adoptive parents than have a composed, well adjusted, transracial Korean adoptee who loves adoption? (“It’s the best thing since milk and cookies!”) What better way to engage potentially pissy adult adoptees than with an adoptee who openly talked about his pissy, non-well adjusted past? What better way to confront strong adoptees, with constructive arguments against adoption than with another adoptee who could easily express, with conviction, equally compelling arguments in support of adoption? Yeah, I, the poster boy transracial adoptee, was good for the agency. I played the “good Asian” role very well.

As they say, all good things must come to an end. I left the agency in 2006, absolutely disgruntled with the whole “adoption thing.” Through my job, I came into more contact with other professionals from different agencies and much of what I saw didn’t please me. Many adoption professionals, for example, are frankly patronizing to adoptees who work in agencies: “Oh, isn’t that precious? An adoptee who’s ‘giving back.’ Good for you.”

Some are self aggrandizing. “This is God’s work. I’m saving the world’s children! Do you know how many children I’ve placed?” The job got me to a point in which I started getting a tad bit pissy at certain adoptive parents. Some adoptive parents ask the most obscene questions: “Has my son’s teenage birthmother had another child so that she can put him/her up for adoption? Boy, my son would love to have a sibling!”

Some are the most entitled people in the universe: “Would it be possible for me to expedite the Russian adoption process for my wife and me? We could just pay the $35K right now. We have the money. Do you want a donation?” Some adoptive parents, in particular adoptive parents who work for adoption agencies, are frankly clueless: “Why would any adult adoptee have ill feelings about adoption agencies? We gave them good homes!” (uttered by a current president of a well known agency).

The job also got me to a point in which I started getting frustrated with certain adoptees. Let’s face it. Some of us adoptees are the most self centered individuals, and some of us just take ourselves way too seriously: “We bear all of the burdens in adoption!”, ”Do you know how hard I work in this adoption agency to make sure that the much needed voices of adult adoptees are heard? Do you have any idea how important that is? Don’t even think about questioning my motivation!” (uttered by me *sigh*).

The job, more than anything else, got me to a point in which I started questioning myself. After leaving the agency, I repeatedly asked “Have I been wrong this entire time?”

Fast forward. Within the last year, I had an employment conversation with the largest adoption agency in Minnesota, well, at least a few members of the agency’s leadership. I approached the agency not because I needed a job (I offered to take a very drastic pay cut.) Rather, I approached the agency because, like many nonprofits, the agency was financially struggling. As a result, it was laying off a number of people (individuals whom I considered friends) even though, in my estimation, some of the people the agency was letting go were the best employees for aiding the agency to rebound financially. Furthermore, the agency was hacking away at its already minuscule post adoption education budget when, at least in my estimation, post adoption services could actually be the “money maker.”

For me, as a fundraiser (the career path I chose after leaving adoption) I saw a great opportunity for this agency: what better time than now to reach out to adoptive parents and adoptees? What better time than now to ask for them to reconnect and remold the agency, to make it a better place?”

I talked with a few of the agency’s leadership about the idea of me rejoining “the team” to help fundraise. We talked about how I could help the agency to philanthropically engage adoptive parents and adult adoptees: to work with the leadership in creating lifelong relationships with adoptive parents and adoptees; to work with adoptive parents and adoptees to support the agency’s general operating expenses and post adoption programs. Gasp! I even suggested for this agency to reach out to the Korean adoptees living in Korea who are advocating for the end of international adoption in that country. What a statement it would make if the largest Minnesota adoption agency, in conjunction with their international counterparts in Korea, crafted a plan with ASK and TRACK that would aid Korea in thoughtfully ending international adoption!

I was so naïve . . .

The conversation went sour. The folks with whom I had been in talks decided that, if I were to join the team, I would only raise money for humanitarian aid – not for general operating costs and certainly not for post adoption education.

I fumed. I declined the employment opportunity.

Why? What’s wrong with humanitarian aid you ask?

Altruism definitely plays a key role for adoption agencies that have humanitarian aid programs. Many of these programs are run very well and support some fantastic endeavors in orphanages and child caring institutions.

However, there’s another reason why adoption agencies have humanitarian aid programs. Money. Money plays another key role for adoption agencies that have humanitarian aid programs. Humanitarian aid programs function as a way for adoption agencies to keep their international country partners (i.e., the individuals running institutions like orphanages) happy: “Hey, my favorite international partner in China! Did that supply of goods make it to your place? How’s that building we helped you renovate? You know there’s way more where that came from!” Happy country partners are much more apt to make more referrals, i.e., the children whom the partner agencies recommend for waiting parents to adopt. For adoption agencies in the US, more referrals mean more families moving through the adoption process. More families moving through the adoption process means more money for agencies.

Oh, right. I’ve failed to mention that the agency in question was having referral problems, that referrals weren’t coming quickly for them . . .

To put all of this differently, the agency was, once again, asking for me to help them “create” more adoptive parents and adoptees. They wanted me to do so without focusing time on another pivotal component in the field of adoption – post adoption education, support, and outreach for families and adoptees after the fact, something that the agency promises. Trust me folks. There is a significant amount of adoptive families and adoptees out there who would benefit from something as straightforward as an outreach program.

Yeah. Intentionally or not, the agency wanted me, a former orphan and a person who identifies as a transracial Koreaan adoptee, to sell out my own kind . . . again.

When I left this agency the first time, I absolutely felt as though I had sold out my own kind. Much of the anger I felt was directed internally. I had, for years, advocated for the business of adoption, and I had perpetuated one of the biggest lies in adoption – adoption agencies are there for adoptive parents and, most importantly, the adoptees for the rest of their lives.
Patently false. Absolute bullshit.

Most adoption agencies only care about the creation of adoptive families. The Minnesota agency in question serves as an example. Contrary to what the largest adoption agency in Minnesota says, its post adoption program exists only on paper (to interested folks, check out the agency’s website, read what is supposedly offered, and then call the agency to obtain more details. You’ll be very disappointed after the phone call). But, hey! If one takes a look at the agency’s last newsletter, there are plenty of events and information sessions for individuals who are interested in adopting and for potential adoptive parents who are in the process of adopting.

From what I understand, the agency has no plans to ramp up its post adoption services. To quote one of the individuals from the agency’s leadership, “Post adoption has never brought in enough money.” It has no plans, even though there is a great need for post adoption education, outreach, and support in the state of Minnesota, which is home to tens of thousands of adoptees. It has no plans, even though the agency has no qualms about placing children of color into heavily Caucasian communities in Metro and Outstate Minnesota.

I can see it coming now. The largest adoption agency is going to say, “Listen. I don’t know what planet you live on, but we’re in a recession. We can’t afford to have a lively post adoption program. And, you know what, we offer way more than the other agencies.” Well, in case the agency decides to respond in this particular manner, I have a few suggestions:

1. Perhaps it’s time for you to focus some attention to raising money for areas within the agency that actually matter. Perhaps it’s time for you to raise money for programs that people find of interest.

2. Perhaps it’s time for you to get creative. Perhaps it’s not working for you to continue the practices that you’ve been using for the last however many years. Perhaps your ideas are stagnant.

3. Perhaps it’s time for you to develop deeper relationships with some of your oldest constituents. Perhaps it’s time to work with adoptees, adoptive parents, and birthparents as equal partners.

4. Perhaps you would be surprised by all that you could accomplish if you quit being so interested in money.

5. Perhaps you’ll surprise many of us, but most likely not. Who am I kidding . . .

Ok! That wraps up my rant! If none of it makes sense, so be it!

And oh…before I forget. To the largest adoption agency in Minnesota . . .

I just brought it. I invite you to, ah, bring it.

Even when a child finds a loving home with an adoptive family the circumstances surrounding that relationship are complex

Local Adoptee Shares Her Story at Watchung Booksellers

BY Stacey Gill | Tuesday, Feb 15, 2011 11:00am | COMMENTS (5)

Montclair resident, adoption-advocate, and author Zara Phillips just released the American version of her adoption memoir, Mother Me, after having previously published it in her native England. It hit bookshelves here yesterday, Valentines Day.

Phillips’s book chronicles her journey to discover the truth about her birth and herself. Although Phillips knew she was adopted ever since early childhood, it was something that was never spoken about.

“Yes, you know, but don’t tell anybody,” Phillips recalled of the prevailing sentiment in 1964 when she was adopted. “I could never talk about being adopted.”

And, so, Phillips kept those feelings inside, never at liberty to discuss her conflicted and confusing emotions. “I didn’t feel right. I didn’t feel connected to anybody or anything. I really needed to know my story because in my head I thought I must be a mistake. I really felt my [biological] mother didn’t want me. I carried that into my teenage years.”

Years that are tumultuous for most became disastrous for Phillips. She began to act out, use drugs and alcohol and express her internal strife. “I had a terrible anger.” Phillips said. “It was rage, really.”

At the time neither Phillips nor her mother understood the root of her emotions and behaviors, and Phillips’s involvement in the 80’s London rock scene didn’t help provide any clarity.

It wasn’t until Phillips read the book, The Primal Wound, that she began to understand the dynamics of adoption. After reading the book she said she felt “a sense of relief that I wasn’t alone.”

At 22, Phillips put down the alcohol and drugs and stopped running from her feelings. She knew she needed to make a change. “I can’t move forward with my life until I know my story,” she realized. But she admits, “I was terrified to do it.”

More than 40 years after she was adopted, Phillips notes that while adoption has become more prevalent, many of the same issues still persist. She hopes sharing her story can illuminate some of the issues for all those involved in the adoption triad: the adoptees, the adoptive parents and the birth parents.

Phillips points out that even when a child finds a loving home with an adoptive family the circumstances surrounding that relationship are complex.

“Your child comes with another set of parents. Even if you don’t meet them, they are still around us. They are in the shadows.”

Those shadows, whether acknowledged or not, seem to hang over the head of the child as well as both sets of parents.

“Some people think, ‘You have a new mom and dad. What is there to complain about?’ But our first family we lost,” Phillips said of the emotional scars left on adoptees.

These scars cannot be healed by love alone according to Phillips. “Parents say, ‘I love this kid as my own, but the baby doesn’t come from the same place. The baby has a wound – the primal wound – because it was relinquished, which cannot be filled even with love.”

When Phillips became a mother herself, she began to gain an understanding of the situations both her mothers had faced as pieces of the adoption puzzle. It seemed that grief blanketed all three of the women. Phillips grieved over the loss of her first family as her adoptive mother grieved over never being able to give birth to a child herself while Phillips’s birth mother grieved over the shame of enduring an unwed pregnancy, the terror of laboring alone in a girls’ home and finally the enduring sadness of giving up a child.

“It’s complicated,” Phillips said of the bonds broken and formed by adoption. Undoubtedly an understatement, but one Phillips plans to bring some clarity to with her book. In doing so she hopes to help those involved to understand and accept the emotions involved. You can hear her story this Thursday at Watchung Booksellers.

The powerful impact of rejection for Adoptees

Rejection and the Adult Adoptee

After 14 interviews, 5 rejection letters, 2 rejection phone calls, and zero job offers, I felt compelled to blog about job rejection. Since I am an adult adoptee, and after extensive soul searching and therapy, I have found the issues I have with rejection are directly related to the fact that I was adopted. I take rejection as a personal attack on my sense of self.

Nancy Verrier, a psychotherapist and adoptive mother, briefly wrote about her experiences with adoptees and their issues with work and rejection. In her book, the Primal Wound she states:

Now while many people would just go on to the next interview and keep pursuing it until a job was found, the adoptee will often feel paralyzed by that initial rejection. It is felt, not just as failure to have the necessary skills or training for the job, but as a rejection of the basic person. He was not good enough for the job. He was a failure. This makes going out and facing the next interview seem like a monumental task.

I really connect to Verrier's words, like she is personally speaking to me. She goes on to describe how the fear of rejection may be connected to a sense of unworthiness felt by the adoptee, ending in self-sabotage:

The fear of rejection in the workplace is often accompanied by a fear of success or an inability to believe in one's competency or expertise. There is a kind of self rejection of one's own talents and capabilities, which sometimes results in a sabotaging of one's success.

Many people can recall their first experiences of rejection; getting picked last in gym class or not being able to play with the "cool" kids on the playground in elementary school. For adoptees, on the other hand, we cannot remember our initial reactions to our abandonment at birth (unless you were adopted at an older age). We, as adoptees, don't have a reference point for our early experiences with rejection. What often ends up happening, is a belief develops into thinking that one's personal value is the reason for the rejection. In my personal experiences with rejection, particularly in regards to jobs, I often think I was not "good enough" as a person or that I was "unworthy" for the job.


However, everybody experiences rejection throughout the course of their life; whether it is through significant others, school, sports teams, and in the workplace. So, if everybody encounters rejection some point in their life, why do some react more strongly than others?

In opinion, the answer to that question comes down to how each individual deals with loss. Adoptees, like myself, were faced with the loss of her biological mother at a very young and vulnerable age (in my case, in infancy). Being unable to mourn with the loss of one's biological mother, the person may not be able to effectively cope with later losses in life. In dealing with rejection, the inability to cope comes in many forms, including; personalization ("I must have said something wrong during the interview"), catastrophizing ("I'll never find a job," "I am going to lose my house," etc.), or even denial ("I didn't even want that job in the first place").

So how do we get over the negative beliefs of ourselves and stop taking rejection so personally? We first need be aware that there is a problem and we need to be motivated to change how we think about ourselves. The biggest challenge for me is to remind myself that it wasn't my fault. It was nothing I did or did not do... I am who I am and the best employer for me will realize this. My day will come...

As an Adoptee in your motherland confronted with social discrimination

National Human Rights Commission rules on adoptee pay at Busan English Village.

From the Korea Times:

An English immersion village has been warned by the state human rights watchdog not to discriminate against Korean-American instructors in terms of payment compared to other native English speakers as long as they speak English fluently as their mother tongue.

A 30-year-old Korean-American filed a complaint with the National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) last May, claiming Busan Global Village, an English-immersion facility in Busan, paid him less than other native English speakers due to his birthplace, South Korea.

The petitioner was adopted by a family in the U.S. when he was 18 months old. He grew up there as a U.S. citizen, using English as his primary language.

He was hired by the institute last year and coerced to sign a contract that treated him like an English-speaking Korean, whose annual pay was roughly 7-10 million won ($6,100-8,700) less than those of native English speakers who were not ethnically Korean. He worked there between July 2009 and April this year.

The NHRC investigated the case and concluded the petitioner should not be differentiated from native speakers when teaching English.

Here is the release from the 국가인권위원회 in Korean.

This ruling on one English Village is not law, and I suspect some schools will continue to pay gyopo teachers, especially their non-Korean-speaking ones, less than their native speaker English teachers. It's an important, and instructive, ruling for overseas Korean adoptees returning to South Korea to teach, though the NHRCK's recommendation to the English Village and its hiring practices reminds us it's better to be aware of, and take preventative measures against, shady contracts than to try and win anything a year or two later.

The agency recommended the institute pay the difference in wages to the instructor.

TAG, An Adoptees Status

TAG, I’m It by Thomas Good

by TAG - December 31, 2010 | Editorial

TAG, I’m It – Self Portrait, 2010
(Photo: Thomas Good / NLN)

May 28, 2010 began innocently enough — but by mid-morning I found a woman I hadn’t seen in over 50 years.

“The Conversation” took place early in the day. It was a Friday that seemed ordinary enough. But it would turn out to be truly remarkable.

“Hello, can I speak to Sandra?”

“This is Sandra…”

“Hi, my name is Thomas Good and I have reason to believe that I might be your son.”

***

I am a Leo, born in mid-August. But my mother says that I have a new birthday, that I was reborn on the day she and I were re-united after a 50 year separation: May 28th. So, like George Washington, I celebrate two birthdays. We are party animals, George and me.

Whenever I think about how it felt to find my mother — and to discover my family history — I am astounded.

***

The phone call, “The Conversation,” happened after a long search.

When I was very young, my adoptive mother told me that I was adopted and that my birth name was “Altfather.” She told me that my family came from the German part of Pennsylvania and that my mother was an artist. I studied art and German as a kid in an attempt to embrace my roots. Years later I went to the “Heimat” (homeland) for the first time. It was 1996 and I was in Rotterdam on business. Seizing the opportunity, I jumped on a train to Düsseldorf. As the sun rose I traveled from Appledorn to Emmerich, crossing the Dutch frontier. At the border the Dutch train crew departed and their German colleagues came on board. The rising sun illuminated the steel rails and I exhaled slowly. It was almost impossible to believe that I had finally arrived in the ancestral homeland. Everywhere I went in Düsseldorf, I met people who were very excited that a son of Germany had returned home. “Inspiring” would be an understatement. And so, in 2000, I took my wife and young son to München. I was visiting a colleague and took the opportunity to show my family a little bit of Germany. After landing at the airport we went through customs. Stamping my passport, the German border guard looked up when I said, “Schönes Tag.” For whatever reason he got very excited and came out of his booth to shake my hand. I have no explanation and no words. Another ethereal experience. Another one of Andre Breton’s “surreal Moments.” Life should be about joy, it should be celebrated. I don’t know that official’s name but I am grateful. Whatever else we are, we are both somebody’s son.

A few years later I discovered that, although they had sealed birth records in 1964, the great state of Ohio allowed people born prior to 1964 (or after 1996) to access their original birth certificates (http://www.odh.ohio.gov/vitalstatistics/legalinfo/adoption.aspx). On my 51st birthday I mailed in my application and the filing fee, expecting little – I already possessed the documents my adoptive mother had given me before she died. A month later my original birth certificate arrived. I felt like a kid getting a decoder ring. On it was my birth mother’s name. And her home town in Pennsylvania: Berlin. Two valuable clues. I searched via google for Altfathers from Pennsylvania — as I had already done many times. But this time I zeroed in on Berlin. I would repeat this search innumerable times in the coming weeks. Not much came up. But everything changed on May 28.

On a quiet Friday, sitting at my desk sipping some coffee and preparing to get to work, I googled one more time, expecting nothing from the familiar exercise. And then I got a lead. A break.

I never met Bill Altfather – he died in 1998. But a woman in South Carolina had posted his obituary on a genealogy website. The obit listed the surviving relatives. My mouth fell open when I discovered that one of the survivors was a woman whose maiden name was very familiar. It also gave her married name. That was the missing piece that tied things together neatly. And from there I found a viable phone number.

***

I “met” my mother in July of 2010 — we had met once before — when my family and I journeyed to her home. I can’t help but cry as I type. The first look, the first hug. Beyond words. Imagine what it means to be a complete human being and you’ll have an idea of what it feels like.

Unfortunately there is a political reality that many adoptees encounter when researching their past. Far too many states block adoptee access to what are known as “Original Birth Certificates” — or “OBCs” in the adoptee rights movement. There is no national standard and “States Rights” means that, in many states, adoptees have no rights to access their own birth certificates. Imagine your doctor saying, “Is there a history of diabetes in your family?” and you have to reply that you have no way of knowing. Imagine you spend your entire life not knowing the circumstances around your adoption. Imagine you can’t recall what your mother looks like? Imagine an impersonal response from a state official.

What is to be gained from blocking access to OBCs? Statistics show that birth mothers overwhelmingly embrace their long lost offspring when reunion occurs. And adoptees like yours truly don’t feel any need to turn their backs on those who raised them. Family is not an either/or scenario. The bottom line: adoptees are not the property of the State. We have rights and it is time that they be respected. Adult adoptees are as capable of making their own decisions as any other citizen is. There isn’t any rational reason adult adoptees should be second class citizens.

Sadly, New York State lags behind Ohio in respecting the civil rights of the adoptee. Sealed adoption records leave individuals searching for birth parents with only one recourse: a state-run adoption “registry” that can help facilitate a reunion. But there are no guarantees as one woman’s story reveals. According to the Utica Observer Dispatch, Kelly Wittman Clausen, a 37-year-old adult adoptee, has been on the registry since she was 21 — and has yet to find her mother.

Except for an accident of birth, I would not have found my mother. By sheer luck, being born in Ohio rather than New York — or Pennsylvania — I had access to my original birth certificate. My mother cried when I called her. And when I apologized she said, “These are not tears of sadness.”

***

When I visited my mother in July I spoke to her about an idea I had. I had decided that, on the occasion of my 52nd birthday, I would rectify what I had come to regard as an error. Mom smiled and said, “So you’ll be ‘TAG’.”

When I was barely two months old I had been given a middle name by my adoptive family — the surname of a distant relative whom I had never met. As my adoptive parents were both dead by the time I found my birth mother I made a unilateral decision. With the assistance of my friend and occasional attorney, an amazing National Lawyers Guild member named Gideon, I petitioned the State of New York for a name change. I filled out several forms, got my wife’s permission in writing, got everything notarized and filed my papers at the civil court. When it came down, I took the judge’s decision to the local newspaper for publication. The technicalities completed, I procured new ID. Once the process was finalized — it took about two months — I was a hybrid. My first and last where the names I had been given upon adoption. And sandwiched in between was what I jokingly referred to as my “maiden name.”

The change is no small matter.

With the exception of my middle name, I kept my adopted name(s). I am grateful to my adoptive family and the name they provided was, by and large, a good fit. But with the new middle name I feel complete, whole — part of an extended family.

I had no control over decisions made at the time of my birth and so it is gratifying that I will die as what I am – an Altfather, as well as a Good. It is my decision and one I am very comfortable with. I like to tell people “TAG, I’m it.”

I believe that every adoptee has the right to know their past, to find their birth parents and reunite – if the adoptee and the parents wish to do so. It is the right of any human being to possess their history, to define themselves, to make their own decisions.

The process is hard enough without the state interfering — I was scared shitless at several points along the way. I felt some guilt. I felt some frustration, some remorse. But throughout, I felt joy. Everyone should have the opportunity to discover who they are and where they came from. Our past is our property.

I am proud to be reborn as my mother’s son. TAG, I’m it.

Happy New Year to all of the adoptees and ALL of their parents.

Thomas Altfather Good,
New York City
December 31, 2010

“All of my days, all of my life, standing by you — all of my days, all of my life, I will find you.” — Cyndi Lauper, “Echo”

Adoptee introduces a book of a Mother

BART BONGERS SPEAKS

With courtesy of Renee de Bode

Geachte dames en heren,

Ik heb vandaag de eer om u wat meer te vertellen over afstandsmoeders, of geboortemoeders zoals Renée dat graag zegt. Ik ga u niet doodgooien met getallen en feiten, maar ik neem u mee op een reis in de geschiedenis. Voordat we die reis gaan maken, lijkt het mij belangrijk eerst eens stil te staan bij wat afstandsmoeders zijn.

Zoals u allen weet is ‘de afstandsmoeder’ die vrouw die zonder nadenken onveilige seks heeft gehad met een man. Als zij ontdekt dat ze zwanger is, is het veelal te laat voor het uitvoeren van een abortus, dus is de enige mogelijkheid voor haar om nog van het kind af te komen, is het laten adopteren van haar kind. Dit doet zij, omdat zij een onverantwoordelijk karakter heeft, zonder enige emotie; verdriet komt vaak niet voor, laat staan dat deze vrouwen spijt ervaren. Zij doet afstand omdat zij geen gevoel heeft bij haar kind; hoewel het kind in haar groeit, ervaart zij, zowel tijdens als direct na de zwangerschap, geen enkele band met dit kind.

Ik hoop dat u met mij eens bent dat de wijze waarop ik u verteld heb over vrouwen die hun kind afstaan ter adoptie complete onzin is. Ik hoop dat u nadrukkelijk de neiging had mij van het podium te schoppen. Want vrouwen die besluiten afstand te doen van hun kind deden en doen dat niet vanuit het gevoel niet om hun kind te geven, maar veelal uit een gevoel van pure wanhoop en onmacht. Dat geldt niet alleen voor vrouwen die tegenwoordig afstand doen, maar voor alle vrouwen die ooit afstand hebben gedaan. Afstand doen van een kind is een potentieel zeer traumatiserende gebeurtenis, een gebeurtenis die misschien wel te vergelijken is met een vulkaanuitbarsting.

Ik wil u daarom even meenemen naar de uitbarsting van de Vesuvius in het jaar 79 na Christus en de stad die aan de voet van deze ‘berg’ lag en ligt, Pompeii. De stad Pompeii is één van de best bewaarde Romeinse steden in het moderne Italië doordat tijdens de uitbarsting van de nabijgelegen vulkaan de complete stad werd bedekt met een dikke laag as. Die as zorgde ervoor dat alles en iedereen werd overvallen tijdens de dagelijkse bezigheden. De as zorgde er uiteindelijk letterlijk voor dat het leven versteende. In de eeuwen die volgenden raakte de stad meer en meer bedekt en ging het leven in de wereld die er boven lag gewoon door. Heel lang wist niemand dat er ooit een druk leven had geheerst op die plek onder het aardoppervlak.

Hoewel er geen beschrijving te geven is van ‘de afstandsmoeder’, kan wel gezegd worden dat de ontdekking van een zwangerschap en de daaropvolgende beslissing om afstand van het kind te doen, kan worden omschreven met de metafoor van Pompeii. Van vulkanen is bekend dat er al te meten is wanneer er een volgende uitbarsting plaats zou kunnen vinden en hoewel een bevalling misschien niet hetzelfde is als een uitbarsting van een vulkaan (ik kan daar als man helaas bitterweinig over zeggen, hoewel ik me wel eens heb laten vertellen dat inknippen tijdens een bevalling hetzelfde zou voelen als een schaar in de plasbuis van een penis), wordt de gebeurtenis al wel negen maanden aangekondigd (hoewel dit afhankelijk is van het moment waarop de zwangerschap wordt ontdekt). Want bij ontdekking van de zwangerschap ontstaat er een situatie waarin levensbepalende beslissingen moeten worden genomen. Die beslissingen hangen af van de duur van de zwangerschap en opvattingen van de aanstaande moeder en belangrijke personen in haar omgeving. Hoe ver is de zwangerschap gevorderd? Is er nog de mogelijkheid om te besluiten over afbreken of uitdragen van de zwangerschap? Wat zijn haar opvattingen over het afbreken van een zwangerschap? Hoe reageert haar omgeving? Is de zwangerschap gevorderd tot in het derde trimester, dan is abortus niet meer mogelijk, wat ga je dan doen? Vele vragen waar een onbedoeld zwangere vrouw mee geconfronteerd wordt.

Terug naar de vulkaan bij Pompeii. Als de uitbarsting van een vulkaan zich eenmaal heeft aangekondigd is er veelal geen weg meer terug. En voorbij een bepaald punt is het slechts een kwestie van tijd voordat de explosie daadwerkelijk plaats gaat vinden. Ik kan me voorstellen dat dit ook bij de Vesuvius gebeurde. Dat de vulkaan begon te rommelen en dat er op een gegeven moment geen weg meer terug was. En als die verwoestende uitbarsting plaatsvindt (in het geval van een bevalling na negen maanden), dan wordt alles onherstelbaar veranderd.

Dat is gebeurd in Pompeii en dat is ook wat er kan gebeuren bij vrouwen die ontdekken dat ze onbedoeld zwanger zijn. Terwijl het leven in de wereld doorging, versteende het leven in de straten en huizen van Pompeii, iets wat veel afstandsmoeders ook herkennen. Na de ontdekking van de zwangerschap en het al dan niet gedwongen afstand doen van hun kind, versteent er vaak wat. Een stuk van het leven van de vrouw die haar kind afstaat ter adoptie bevriest in het moment, wordt afgedekt en kan vervolgens voor eeuwig verstopt zijn onder een dikke laag as. Net als in Pompeii, bestaan er in het leven van de afstandsmoeder nog volop bewijzen voor het gebeurde, van het leven van voor de bevalling en het afstand doen, maar die zijn allemaal verstopt. Soms voor eeuwig en soms niet.

In tegenstelling tot Pompeii, is er bij het doen van afstand een resultaat dat die verstening overleeft en dat is het ter adoptie afgestane kind. De moeder die de uitbarsting heeft meegemaakt, heeft overleefd, vindt zichzelf terug in een wereld die niet meer lijkt op de wereld waarin ze altijd heeft geleefd. In plaats van leven, moet ze overleven. Dagen kunnen eindeloze leegtes gaan lijken, niet te overzien in de uitdaging die ze ineens vormen. Dat wat eerst vanzelfsprekend was, is het niet meer. Afstandsmoeders kunnen het gevoel hebben te zijn vervreemd van hun eigen omgeving; een omgeving die verwacht dat je gewoon doorleeft, die soms niet eens weet van de geboorte van het kind (niet weten van de enorme ‘ramp’ die zich in het leven heeft voltrokken). En terwijl de afstandsmoeder moet leren lopen met de stolsels van de uitbarsting, verwacht de omgeving een zorgeloze levenshouding.

En terwijl de afstandsmoeder moet leren omgaan met de verstening in zichzelf, is er tegelijkertijd iets springlevends ontstaan, haar kind. Dat kind krijgt een leven met een stuk geschiedenis dat onbekend is, maar waar het veelal wel een nieuwsgierigheid naar ontwikkelt. En terwijl de afstandsmoeder die het leven gaf aan het kind moet leren leven met de verstening van een deel van haar leven, kan het zijn dat het afgestane kind op een dag als een archeoloog op zoek gaat naar de geschiedenis van zijn of haar leven.

Tijdens zo’n zoektocht kan de geadopteerde met hamers, beitels en soms ook met explosieven de aarde en stenen weghalen die de gebeurtenissen rond zijn of haar verwekking hebben bedekt. Dat kan dus subtiel en langzaam, maar ook grof en snel gaan. Pas dan wordt duidelijk hoe kwetsbaar hetgeen is dat onder al die stenen en aarde ligt. Die kwetsbaarheid kennen veel afstandsmoeders en het is voor hen altijd moeilijk om die na al die jaren zomaar bloot te geven. Na vaak in eenzaamheid te hebben moeten leren omgaan met de pijn en het verdriet, is het niet makkelijk om diezelfde pijn en verdriet met iemand anders te delen en te tonen. En dan is steun en acceptatie heel erg belangrijk voor de vrouw die ooit haar kind heeft afgestaan.

In Pompeii vonden we, toen we gingen kijken onder de lagen aarde en steen, een in actie versteend leven. Er was duidelijk te zien dat het gewone leven plotseling tot stilstand was gekomen; tegelijkertijd mooi en afschuwelijk. De restanten van de stad gaven ons inzicht in het leven van die tijd.

De zoekactie van een afgestaan kind kan leiden tot het opgraven van het verleden, maar ook handelingen van de geboortemoeder zelf. Het lijkt erop dat het heel lang niet echt geaccepteerd was als een geboortemoeder zelf onderzoek ging verrichten naar haar verleden; ook voor haar omgeving was het vaak makkelijker als dat geheim bleef. Het is een illusie om te denken dat hier in de recente jaren een verandering in heeft opgetreden. Hoewel het aantal afstanden in Nederland in vergelijking met de jaren zestig en zeventig enorm is gedaald, is er nog steeds weinig openheid om over afstand te spreken, terwijl er toch van heel veel kinderen afstand is gedaan (een voorzichtige schatting stelt dat het om zo’n 20.000 afstanden in Nederland gaat sinds 1956). Ook bij afstand ter adoptie zullen we, net als in Pompeii, mooie en leerzame dingen tegenkomen, maar tegelijkertijd ook afschuwelijke dingen. Het leven van afstandsmoeders ging en gaat veelal niet over rozen.

In Pompeii vonden we een stuk geschiedenis versteend aan waardoor we terug in de tijd konden. Bij afstandsmoeders is er vaak ook een stuk geschiedenis dat versteend meegenomen wordt in het huidige leven. Vandaag zijn we hier om te luisteren naar iemand die haar geschiedenis op papier heeft gesteld; enerzijds om haar verhaal te doen, anderzijds opdat anderen ervan leren. We hoeven van afstandsmoeders geen toeristische attractie als Pompeii te maken, maar misschien is het wel mogelijk om van hun geschiedenis te leren.

Hiermee wil ik mijn bijdrage aan deze middag afronden. Ik ben eigenlijk al veel te lang aan het woord, want het draait immers niet om mij vandaag. Ik wil u hartelijk danken voor uw aandacht, maar ik hoop dat u nog meer aandacht heeft voor de spreker na mij.

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Bart Bongers is a so-called domestic or incountry adoptee. Not many times we see male adoptees acting in the field of adoption. They seem to be disappeared in the system. Many times not knowing how to respond to their status as an adoptee they avoid or diminish the affect and effect of adoption to their lives. Bart Bongers is in a certain way the exception and also does he belongs to this group of men who tried to avoid the topic as a personal one. Working for one of the biggest organisations in the adoptionchain where unmarried women can receive support if they want consider to relinquish their child, the FIOM , it must have been a difficult taks for Bart Bongers to be active in the organisation who was responsible for thousands of (unknown) adoptions including the one of himself. Bart Bongers will be leaving the Fiom organisation at the end of this year.

Never the less he preferred not to be detected as an adoptee in the organisation he was well involved with a lot of adoptee organisations in the Netherlands and had also a warm heart for first mothers. When one of them, Renee de Bode - published a book about her own experience as (first) mother Bart introduced her book very eloquently. One piece of this speech is translated here:

“…In Pompeii we found a piece of history which turned into stone so we are able to trace the history. For first mothers there is often also part of history which petrified taking into their present life. Today we are here to listen to someone whose history has been set on paper, once to tell her story to others, but also that others may learn from it. We should not make from first mothers a touristic attraction like Pompeii but maybe it’s possible to learn from their history…

And while the mother must learn to deal with in the petrified body in herself, there is also something very alive as a result of the same body; her child. That child gets a life with a piece of history that is unknown but is also very curious to discover. And while the mother has to find a way to give that petrified piece of her life, it is possible that the ‘relinquished’ child, will one day will start (re)searching like a archaeologist to find the history of his and her life.”

Call for Empowerment

Written on August 31, 2009 at 9:00 AM by CONDUCIVE

TRANSRACIAL ADOPTION Some Visions I Have Seen…

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What would a world look like in which women and communities are empowered to care for their newborns? Author activist and mixed-African American adoptee Shannon Gibney lays out her vision for such a world. Through her work Gibney has been building coalitions with the international adoptee movement. These coalitions offer spaces for adoptees to dialogue and use the power of writing, art, and education to begin the process of making the type of world envisioned by Gibney and so many adoptees like her into reality.

TRANSRACIAL ADOPTION Some Visions I Have Seen…

By Shannon Gibney

AUGUST/SEPTEMBER 2009 CONDUCIVE

I. Some Visions I Have Seen…

What would the world look like if every parent – regardless of class, race, culture, or gender – had the opportunity to raise her own child?

How would various communities of color look and function if adults had enough education, training, and opportunity to ensure that when and if a family did encounter challenges, the local community could step in and care for the children in the least intrusive, most culturally-sensitive manner? What if families had every opportunity to remain intact and children were not removed from their midst on a regular basis?

Certainly, in such a world, the reproductive debate would be expanded to not only include the right of women to have safe abortions if they so choose, but to also raise their children in their own families and home communities.

What if families had every opportunity to remain intact and children were not removed from their midst on a regular basis?

Poverty would have to be reconceived in the child welfare system as a systemic process that creates less real choices and resources for those mired in it (mostly people of color in the U.S.), rather than a moral shortcoming of certain “irresponsible” individuals. A ruling of “Neglect” would not be reason enough to terminate parental rights – community-based and elected panels would look into the causes of the neglect (which are often, though not always, catalyzed by a lack of economic and social resources).

In this world, the needs of children would be put first, rather than the needs of parents/consumers. Just as importantly, children would be seen as complex individuals whose needs far exceed those of mere survival. As a culture, we would see ourselves in our children, and recognize the web of emotional, psychological, cultural, communal, and other levels which they/we juggle every day, and which they/we will need to fully engage in order to reach their/our potential.

They (the adoptees) are also committed to exploring a collective solution that redirects the communal/spiritual disruption felt by these children toward something far more positive and far more beautiful.

There would need to be a reckoning, throughout all levels and sectors of society, that race and culture do matter in America today. The public would have to recognize the notion that all any child needs is “the opportunity for a good education, a safe neighborhood, and a loving family” in order to thrive in any environment is based on the lie of a color-blind society. We have to face the painful truth that race and racism have seeped into every nook and cranny of American society – including, and perhaps most insidiously, the American family.

In this world, a Christianizing mission, and its historic role in conversion by any means necessary to the point of separating children from their parents, would be undermined. This would be accomplished via a devastating critique from the public and educational spheres, as well as through the de-funding of organizations and groups that purport to determine who is and who is not fit to parent based on a person’s adherence to a specific set of “Christian” values. The connection between Christianization, racism, and cultural genocide throughout the world (especially in indigenous communities in the U.S. and in Australia) would be made so plain that to deny it would be to deny your own heart.

children would be seen as complex individuals whose needs far exceed those of mere survival

The sexism that women face – be it in a powerful institution such as her employer, or the church, or even from family members – would not be allowed to fester and grow in such a world. Women in every culture would have as much access to education as their male counterparts, and would be encouraged and supported in their efforts to tell their stories and present their reality. Even though she might at times feel like her choices were more limited than she would like, depending on her situation, no woman would ever feel that external forces made her either relinquish a child she wanted, or take on a burden that she could not bear alone. In short, there would be far more understanding and support for, by, and of women in this world.

II. Angle of View

Are these visions of justice so impossible in this kind of world? Are they so far off? In some ways, politicized transracial adult adoptees carry these visions with them in their minds, bodies, and spirits all the time. They embody the response to the all-too-familiar questions, “So, you believe we should get rid of adoption altogether?” or “What should we do otherwise?” Such a polarizing approach to the complicated and often contradictory process of child relinquishment and re-attachment to a new family and new community is as limiting as it is unimaginative. Has society’s angle of vision really become so narrow? Can it really only see what is already there, the mess all of us are standing in?

The visions put forth above are not the stuff of fantasy; they represent the labor, analysis, and dreams of so many people.

What a collective group of adult adoptees have done is provide a space to discuss these complexities. The organizers and participants of the Pedagogy & Theatre of the Oppressed Conference look forward to continuing the political education and growing consciousness that is shedding light on the chronic problem of removing children of color from their home communities and placing them in predominantly (foreign) Caucasian ones. They are also committed to exploring a collective solution that redirects the communal/spiritual disruption felt by these children toward something far more positive and far more beautiful.

The visions put forth above are not the stuff of fantasy; they represent the labor, analysis, and dreams of so many people. Socially aware people have noted and identified the intersection of the multiple oppressions and systems of power in transracial adoption: sexism, nationalism, Christianity, militarism, racism, poverty, and so many more.

CONDUCIVEMAG.COM

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Shannon Gibney lives and works in Minneapolis, Minnesota where she teaches writing, journalism, and African American topics at Minneapolis Community & Technical College. She is a 2002 graduate of Indiana University’s MFA program in fiction, and also holds an MA in 20^th Century African American literature from that institution. Gibney was awarded a 2005 Bush Artist Fellowship and the 2002 Hurston/Wright Award in fiction. Currently, she is at work on a novel that chronicles the journeys of 19^th century African Americans who colonized Liberia [excerpted in Fiction on a Stick: New Stories by Minnesota Writers, (Milweed, 2008)].

To support adult adoptee and birth mother rights, consider purchasing a Conducive Humanitarian & Human Rights tee. Proceeds from tees will support an adult adoptee and birth mother organization. All tees are sweat free and available in organic cotton. To see the selection of Adoptee and Birth Mother tees at Conducive’s Humanitarian & Human Rights Tee store, click here

Copyright ©2009 Conducive. All rights reserved. Do not reproduce without permission from CONDUCIVEMAG.COM

Related Articles:

• August/September 2009
• Reading Narratives of Adoption: An Interview with Dr. Marianne Novy
• EDITORIAL Trading in Babies
• Transnational Adoption and the “Financialization of Everything”
• ADOPTING HAITIAN ORPHANS: Saving Children or Repeating Unsuccessful History?
• EDITORIAL Who are the 143 Million Orphans?
• The Narrative of International Adoption

Too Little, Too Late. Indeed! Adoptie ìs en blijft taboe

Vijf voor Twaalf

Posted by Rootless on december 11, 2010 · 1 reactie

Beste adoptiecoach en geadopteerden,

‘Too little, too late.’ Is dat effectief ook zo of voelt het slechts zo aan? Ik was erg aangedaan door je laatste blog en ik kan de noodkreet tot hier horen weergalmen, wetende dat de noodkreet van deze vrouw slechts één van de zovelen daarbuiten is…Ik merk dat er weinig optimisme in je relaas schuilt, dit ondanks ruim 20 jaar werkervaring in de adoptiesector.

Ik stel me alsmaar meer de vraag of adoptie een ‘natuurlijk’ iets is. Of het in feite niet on-natuurlijk is om kinderen van elders bij twee nieuwe ouders te plaatsen, dit simplistisch voorgesteld. Ik ben van nature optimistisch, maar ook realistisch. Maar als ik al die getuigenissen en verhalen lees die toestromen, dan word ik wel pessimistisch vooral wat betreft de ‘toekomst van geadopteerden’ en de generaties die er op volgen.

Zoals ik eerder al vermeldde, krijg ik heel wat brieven toegestuurd van geadopteerden, waar ik beslist niet vrolijk van word. Vaak moet ik me inhouden om niet in huilen uit te barsten en overvalt me een gevoel van machteloosheid. Machteloos door de vele pijnlijke verhalen die door mijn vingers glippen en voor mijn ogen verschijnen, machteloos omdat ik me afvraag waarmee we bezig zijn. Dit kan toch niet het doel van adoptie geweest zijn..?

Ik word somber als ik merk hoeveel ‘cases‘ effectief verkeerd zijn gelopen en welke (schrijnwekkende) adoptieverhalen naar boven komen, maar de media daar ZEL-DEN een woord over rept, laat staan de lezer of kijker laat zien dat adoptie niet altijd a happy end omvat, er oren naar heeft en deze verhalen effectief naar buiten wil brengen.

De media verzuimt hun plicht of ze wìllen het gewoonweg NIET ZIEN, laat staan TONEN. Want, ja, de waarheid of realiteit kwetst. We willen hetgeen niet zien dat ons op andere gedachten zou kunnen brengen, we willen slechts het positieve zien, alles wat een WAW factor inhoudt, dit zonder meer. Maar je kunt ons, geadopteerden, moeilijk negeren of de rug toekeren. We lopen hier rond, we ademen dezelfde lucht in als u en ik en we zijn hier in het leven geroepen omwille van een welbepaalde reden, aangezien we in het land van herkomst omwille van bepaalde omstandigheden jammergenoeg niet welkom waren. Ja, beste geadopteerden, mocht je eraan twijfelen: ‘Wij hebben wel degelijk recht op bestaan.’ We lopen hier nu eenmaal rond, ook al konden we indertijd onze mond nog niet opendoen en instemmen met de beslissing die door anderen voor ons werd gemaakt. We zijn namelijk uitgegroeid tot de eerste generatie geadopteerden, dit tegen wil en dank. Bijgevolg hebben we recht om gehoord te worden.

We hebben recht om de zaken die in het verleden fout gelopen zijn recht te zetten, al was het maar dat de tweede generatie geadopteerden weet dat ook zij er alle belang bij hebben te kunnen rekenen op een sociaal opvangnet, wetende dat er in het verleden fouten zijn gemaakt. Vèèl fouten. We hebben recht om au sérieux genomen te worden en om zij, die ons uitlachen en onze aanwezighheid en mening negeren, gewaar te maken van de problematiek die adoptie met zich meebrengt.

We hebben recht op opvang en begeleiding, op menselijkheid, begrip en genegenheid, op respect en de nodige ruimte om de nieuwe, ingrijpende wendingen in ons leven een plaats te geven. We hebben recht om begeleid te worden van het moment dat wij als baby, vierjarige of 12-jarige Belgische bodem betraden. We hebben recht op een solide, hetzij professionele begeleiding, eentje die je opvolgt doorheen onze persoonlijke ontwikkeling en verdere levensloop, wanneer adoptieouders geen doen meer weten met hun adoptiekind en hun ‘adoptiepakketje’.

Nogmaals, als zaken dreigen verkeerd te lopen, dan moeten we met z’n allen naar de oorzaak dùrven zoeken en de zaak ook met beide handen aanpakken. Dan moeten we ten alle koste vermijden dat dezelfde fouten nogmaals worden gemaakt en dat de toekomst wordt gevrijwaard door zij die erop toezien en waken dat het nog steeds beter kan. We mogen niet onze ogen sluiten en onze dagen vullen met programma’s zoals Spoorloos en Het leven zoals het is -adoptie. Want geloof me vrij, niet alles wat je ziet, is werkelijkheid (maar dat wist u wellicht ook al), maar vaak eerder hetgeen we graag zouden wìllen zien, opgedrongen door sensatiebeluste TV-makers die ons eeuwige roem beloven, maar slechts een fractie van de werkelijkheid tonen.

Als ze ons, geadopteerden, filmen, dan vraagt men niet hoe wij ons echt voelen, dan vraagt men niet hoe wij het ganse adoptieproeces hebbben meegemaakt, hoe we ons van dag tot dag wentelen en worstelen, laat staan begrijpen hoe het begrip ‘geadopteerd zijn’ ook effectief aanvoelt. Buitenstaanders voelen aan dat het begrip adoptie heel gevoelig ligt, maar tegelijkertijd ook iets complex herbergt. Men zou er wel willen over praten, ook al leidt het misschien tot over-sentiment, maar men durft niet altijd. Toch blijkt het mensen op één of andere manier te boeien. In huiselijke kringen heerst er duidelijk niet altijd openheid en spontaniteit, wat in mijn ogen het gevoel geeft dat adoptie nog steeds doodgezwegen wordt en wij, geadopteerden, bijgevolg een stigma opgeplakt krijgen. Mijn vraag is: waarom? Weet u het antwoord? Weet u waarom adoptie nog steeds taboe is?

...lees de rest op Geadopteerd van een geadopteerde ui Belgie

More and more adoptees become aware that their 'Human Rights' are endangered by adoption. At least, there is a huge loss of dignity due to the overwelming perspective of just one group of the adoption triad, The Adopters. Their system covers the reality of adoption for many adoptees, which do not show a very nice picture of adoption at all.

A Belgium Blogger published a very outgoing piece about the adoption world whom tries to silent adoptees who are critical and show a terrible emotional effect and feelings of due to the loss and the wound of seperation.

It is time, that adoption is not longer promoted as a goo and desirable design and trendy object or a pay-off for the state of mind which tries to repeat, the better of mantra, but that everyone does understand that in essentially adoption is a tragic outcome and start for the first two involved, the parent and the child... If we are able to provide good care and independent support for the two involved, adoption will not be necessary anymore.

But as long exploitation (use of vulnerable people) is an accepted adoption will exist.

Finding my true colour

Article originally published in ELLE

Korea

December 2010

www.elle.co.kr

By Susanne Fuglsang

(Photos: Anna Thorbjornsson)

I arrive at Incheon airport a hot and humid summerday in August 2010. My black leggings and beige H&M lace top is a bit wrinkly after the long flight. I put my long thick black hair in a tight bun, as I always do. As I walk through the gates I feel a warm wind sweeps towards my face. My mind feels relaxed but my body is chocked by the incredible heat. I see a familiar face, it´s my friends driver who is waiting to take me to her apartment in Banpo.

The day before I left Sweden, my homecountry since 1967. There I live with my family in a beautiful apartment from 1910 with Jugend architecture in central Stockholm, the capital of Sweden. It´s like a painting looking outside every morning. The beautiful scenery with tourists in casual vacation clothing mixed with buzy officepeople dressed in expensive and citymodern clothing. They walk along ”Strandvägen” (beachroad) by the water looking at the boats and enjoying the beautiful architecture. The area is called ”Östermalm”. Here you find the expensive designer shops, hotels, museum and nightlife. Compared to Seoul it´s a really small city with around one million citizens . The same amount of tourists visits the city every year. I love my hometown and the fact that it´s a small town with a big cities content and feature.

My life partner
My husband Bo and I have been married for 25 years next year. On July 19th 2011 we will celebrate our ”silver wedding day”. It´s been a journey with a lot of efforts and work to keep two strong individuals on the same path. The easy part was to be husband and a wife. The hard part was to maintain the partnership, grow and develop in our career, raise two children, keep fit, take care of the house etc.
But in the end it was love. If we still didn´t feel love for each other, we couldn´t have made it this far.

It all started at one of the hottest nightclubs in Stockholm. Bo was a regular guest and so was I. But we didn´t meet until that night in April 1985. I arrived to the nightclub with my best friend who was a upcoming star ballerina. She was a great dancer and attracted a lot of attention on the dancefloor. She danced with one guy in particular (later it turned out to be Bosses bestfriend). After a while I started to look for her in the crowded club. Soon enough I found her with two guys. One was tall, with darkbrown hair wearing a eyecatching outfit with silvergrey trousers and a pink shortsleeved shirt. The other one was of middleheigt, lightbrown hair and not that memorable outfit. I remember thinking that the tall guy was too handsome for my taste and probably a big time casanova. I was so wrong. The night ended with dates for both us. My date is still going on but her´s ended shortly after.

To be different
Growing up in a Swedish suburb as one of few coloured children was different. I thought of myself as a Swedish person when I was hanging out with my friends. But once in a while I was reminded that I really wasn´t. It was things like being called a ”yellow girl” to not having curly blond hair and blue eyes.

At first I was seen as an exotic element in the neighbourhood. Later in my teenage years I started to be aware of my different features. The feeling of wanting to fit in and look as everyone else grew. I was a searching soul with a huge need to be loved and accepted. I had a few but close friends and kept a low profil most of the times. It was first as a grown up that I started to be more comfortable in my own skin. One big reason that it took so long was probably because I had no one to talk to about my issues. No one could really understand how it could be a problem to be a healthy person living in a nice house with food on the table every day. I learned to keep the thoughts to myself and reading and listening to music became a big comfort. After all everyone around me also had to work hard to find their true identity while growing up so I accepted it as normal. I only had to work a bit harder since I looked different.

One thing that I regret from my past is that I didn´t learn Korean. I wish I could have that treasure of speaking Korean so that I could communicate with people in a correct and native way. But nothing is impossible, so I will do my best to learn.
Language is a barrier for all of us. I am so grateful that many more Koreans nowadays can speak English. That makes it possible for me to continue my passion to educate people and connect them to Korea.

A big part of the adoptee community in the world have gathered in different groups and organisations. In August this year I had the privilege to attended a gathering for adoptees from all over the world arranged by IKAA ( International Korean Adoptee Associations). It was fascinating to meet so many persons with only one thing in common, to be a Korean adoptee. It was a great experience which I wouldn´t have wanted to miss. I felt the strength and the bond between us. I think it´s important to emphasize the many volounteers that work in organisations all over the world to bring together Korean adoptees to strengthen and inspire them. They really make a difference.

I close my eyes as we pass by the Han River in high speed. I think about the fact that twelve hours ago I kissed my husband and daughter Linda goodbye. I feel a bit sad that they aren´t with me. I miss them so much.


Starting a family
Today we are four in the family. We have been blessed with two wonderful daughters, Jenny and Linda Fuglsang. The girls attended daycare from the age of one to the age of seven when they started school. During those years Bo and I shared the task to bring them there and to pick them up. But without a lot of help from my in-laws it would have been impossible for both of us to have fulltime jobs. My dear father-in-law who has passed away and my amazing mother-in-law were always there for us when the girls were sick or we needed to work. They have always been our biggest supporters. I can only hope I will be able to be such a great mother-in-law to my girls when it´s time.

We have always been a hard working family. At least that was what I thought before I knew about the Korean worklife. But today when I know that we have at least five weeks vacation during a year I feel almost ashamed. When I was pregnant I had a year off with almost the same salary paid. And when I wanted to get back to work I immediately had a daycare placement. Today when I look back on all those things that we take for granted in Sweden I feel humbled.

Sweden has been in the forefront for a long time regarding the social and educational system. Everyone has to attend the free public school from the age of six or seven (flexible school start) to the age of fifteen or sixteen (ninth grade). After that you can decide if you want to continue for two or three more years (high school) in a free public school or private school. Most students and their parents choose the free public school and only a few choose the private school where you pay for the education. But the climate is changing in Sweden regarding education. The global level of talented students has made it tougher for Swedish students to get into the most attractive universities. So today you can see a more diverse approach to the choices made for school. The quest for high grades in the best schools is getting more important to get ahead start, but we still don´t have the same drive that Koreans have regarding their education.

A normal workingday in our family starts around 7am. We take a shower, eat breakfast and get ready for work or school around 8 am. Bo who is the owner of two business- and conferencecentres in Stockholm has a day full of marketing, sales and staff issues. I have two offices that I alternate between, one at home and one at a consultancy office nearby my home. Depending on my schedule I eat lunch at home or at a restaurant. In the evening we eat dinner together. When the girls were small we used to have dinner around 6 pm, but now when we have moved from a house in the suburbs to a city apartment we eat around 7 pm. Several times a week we go to the gym so we alternate who makes dinner on those days. People in general are quite good at exercising in Sweden so it´s quite easy to find training facilities for a reasonable price. After dinner we share the typical housework with dishes, laundry and cleaning. The day ends with some TV and last minute work before we go to bed around 10 -11pm.

The big change
Our oldest daughter Jenny is 22 years old and works as a model and actress in Seoul. Her brave life choices has taken our family on a exciting and emotional journey.
For me it started in 1967, when at the age of four I left Korea as an adoptee to Sweden. I came to a Swedish family with a biological son with blond hair and blue eyes. He was seven years old when I arrived as his new ”little sister”. My adoptive parents consisted of my adoptive mother Jane and her husband Sven. They where a middleclass couple with a nice house in the suburbs. They wanted to have a girl but had a problematic pregnancy the first time so they didn´t want to take any risks a second time. Adoption was a great solution for them because then they could both help an orphan and be sure to get a girl. But I guess they had more than they had bargained for, because it was not love at first sight, actually never.

I could share a lot of stories about how it was to grow up in a foreign country and what it meant to me, but I belive that many persons before me have already done that and more importantly that is not what I want to share with you now.
My story is about how I choose to take responsibility for my life choices and how I learn from them to define who I am today. I took the choice to leave the negative environment at home at the age of sixteen for good and continue my lifepath alone.

The taxi driver looked in the driving mirror and said something in Korean to me. I answered back to him as good as I could ”hanguk mal mottejo” and continued in English to explain that I was adopted and didn´t understand Korean. After a short silence he suddenly asked in English – Did you cry every night?
I was stunned and didn´t know what to say. After a while I realised that he felt sorry for me and assumed that my life must have been painful. This was not the first time I had this reaction so I started to feel a growing need to give him a broader view about the adoptees. There are as many stories as there are adoptees. Some of them are happy and some are sad. But no one wants to be considered with pity. But I knew I couldn´t explain it all to everyone I met so I decided to just say - No, I am happy that I was adopted. If not, I would not have been the person I am today.

I want to share the story as an adoptee but more importantly as a fellow Korean to you as a reader. Such a long time has passed since the first adoptee left Korea and we are now coming back as adults to reclaim our history and roots. But the past has mostly portrayed us as adopted persons with happy or sad stories. I would like to start another type of dialogue. A dialogue about the great force we all are as individuals with our multifaceted knowledge and background. We are so much more than adoptees. We may not talk Korean and know the Korean culture and etiquettes but we know about many other things. Together we can help each other to be even stronger as individuals all over the world. But first we need to respect that we will always be different from you on the inside, but it doesn´t show on the outside. So when you meet a fellow Korean who smiles at you with a confused expression and speaks back to you in English please take a moment before you judge us.

Since I left Korea as a four year old child I have had very little connection with my Korean heritage except for some short visits. When Jenny decided to move to Korea I was thrown into a new world. I realised that I didn´t know anything about my ”true colour”. I was like a baby again.

The first months after Jenny moved to Korea I was sad and felt a bit lost. Our family had a different dynamic when we were only three. Linda missed her best friend and big sister very much and had to struggle hard to adjust her daily life without her. My husband handled the loss through work and exercise. We all had to adjust.

The taxi pulled over and stopped infront of the huge apartment complex in Banpo. Just when I stepped out of the taxi my mobilephone was ringing. – Hej, mamma (Swedish for ”hello mother”). A warm feeling spread in my body.
It was my darling daughter Jenny on the phone.

For Jenny it all started when she as a skinny teenager visited our friend Joohee.
It was my second time in Korea and her first. We did the normal sightseeing, shopping and eating and had a great time. People pointed at her legs and said that she was beautiful and should be a model, I guess that stayed in her mind. After she returned home she wrote in her diary that after highschool she wanted to visit Korea again. The years passed by and when she graduated with the maximum grades and yet wasn´t sure about what she wanted to study at University she remembered her goal in the diary. A couple of weeks later Jenny and I landed in Incheon airport, this time it was 2008.

Once again our great friend Joohee Cho helped her to get a kickstart in the modeling world by introducing her to a wellknown fashion designer, and after a short while she met a model agency. After two months she had a model contract and the start of a new life and career in Korea. Thanks to the fact that she was a child to an adopted person she had the advantage to get a F4 Visa. That gave her the right to work and live in Korea. But now the real challenge started. Living in a new country without any friends and family, not talking the language and not knowing about the culture is a huge challenge that most of us never dare to take. But she did, and I will always be proud of her courage to take that step.

During her career in Korea she has been fortunate to have many great assignments.
She has been in the TV show 금발이 너무해 at Comedy TV and in the show 무한정 미소천사 at MBC, supermodelme competition in Singapore, modeling for Kay Kim, Lee Sang-Bong and for advertising ads and commercials and even had a documentary on MBC. But it takes hard work. She trains regularly, eats healthy and studies Korean everyday. On her spare time she enjoys to spend time with her football playing boyfriend and their friends. Once a week she visits a Save the Children unit where she encourages the children to learn English or sometimes she just have fun with them. I could tell you a lot more about her exciting life in Seoul but I will save it to another time. I do know that she loves her life in Korea and is humble towards the fact that she is a part of a society that she didn´t know much about, but who greeted her with open arms.


Tired after the long flight I lay down for a while on the bed. I think about the different smells, the sounds of a language that I don´t understand and the people who looks like me. And I think about how life has given me the gift of two wonderful worlds. The one that I will spend the rest of my life to get to know and the one that I owe my life to.

For me Jenny´s move started a big process in my life. I decided to leave my safe career in the advertising business to a more insecure and challenging life as an entrepreneur. At the age of 46 I started my own company. The procedure was easy and after a simple registration cost about 150.000 Won I was up and running. I wanted to start a business that could combine my heritage with my present life. It was something that I had dreamed about for many years. It would turn out to be a real challenge since I had little knowledge about the Korean business process and etiquette. But that hasn´t stopped me. My lesson from the time up until now is that I need to view my business as an educational project. It´s about sharing knowledge and create interest for the Korean market. After that I will hopefully have the reward to build a growing business for the SME (Small and Medium Enterprises) levels of companies.

I decided that my company Zenex would have a mission to enable business exchange between the Scandinavian and Korean market. I started to arrange executive studytours to Seoul regularly to promote Korea towards the Scandinavian market. One of the trips was for H&M Club before their opening of the first store in Myeongdong. It was a proud moment for me to witness a successful Swedish fashion brand entering the Korean market. I hope to be able to see much more of this in the near future. Korea has so much creativity in the design area that we have little knowledge about. For example the Seoul Fashion Week is a great example of a fashion event that Swedes should know more about to get to know the modern Korea. Koreans know more about Sweden than we know about Korea. Swedish fashion brands like Acne, J Lindeberg and Cheap Monday have been known in Korea for a while, but there is no wellknown Korean fashion brands that we know about in Sweden.

My daily working life involves not only business with Korea. I am also a partner in a digital network company where we are a gathered group of experts in business-development and production for the mobile and internetmarket. This gives me an advantage when I build my company from the other side of the world since digital technology is the biggest reason that it´s even possible. My work is handled mainly with the help of online tools. I produced my company website with IWeb (a Apple program) I have conference calls through Skype (a service that allows me to call for free), I get my news from Korean websites with English translation, I broaden my business network through communities like LinkedIn and Korea Business Central.
I inform potential partners, friends and clients about my everyday insights through Twitter and Facebook (like Cyworld), I follow the latest music, design and movietrends on YouTube, and I check out a lot of great pictures about Korea on Flickr and lately I blog on truecolour.se. I can continue the list but I think you get it by now.
Technology is such an asset to increase the possibilities for crossborder conversation and knowledge. I am happy to be able to use it to my advantage.

The sun starts to set in Myeongdong while I walk down the busy streets with Jenny.
People´s head turns. I think they look because my skin is so dark compared to theirs. I am well aware about that Koreans see white and smooth skin as the most important beauty sign of all. I agree, I think it´s beautiful. But my skin is used to the Swedish beauty standard, which means that a sun tan is considered as beautiful and a sign of wellbeing. We walk further down the street until we reach the H&M store. Suddenly I realise that it´s not me they are looking at, they are admiring Jenny. I feel a warm feeling in my body as we enter the store. Jenny has found a home in the country where I once was born and I have made my dream come true and started a business that makes it possible for me to continue my journey to connect with my native country.

I am proud to say that we have both found our true colour.

With love from,
Susanne Fuglsang

You can follow me on my blog
www.truecolour.se

My company website
www.zenex.se