12 Hours to Remind Me That I am Not Enough

Yesterday I spent the day at another adoption conference.  I admit that I find these things absolutely fascinating and soul-filling.  Not because it was one of those "Save the Orphan" happy hearts and tears conferences, because it wasn't.  This was an educational conference for adoption social workers, adoptive parents, and prospective adoptive parents. Half the sessions I attended were very bleak and frank discussions on racism and the burdens of being a transcultural family (especially a transcultural adoptee). Not happy topics, especially sitting in the room as a white, upper-middle class adoptive mother. The rest of the sessions were on parenting and advocating for your child with special needs...only a "touching and affirming" topic if you aren't actually parenting a child with special needs.  Because for me, it was depressing, overwhelming, but really, truly, incredibly informative and helpful. (As an aside, I'm glad the class wasn't some affirming, YOU CAN DO IT special needs class...all the affirmation I need that parenting a child with special needs is a blessing and not a curse is to come home and watch my son come running on his two little legs into my arms while yelling "Mama's home!")

Yet, I came home 12 hours later with my mind running a million different directions.  I got information I was immediately able to use, and I got information I needed (and still need) to mull over, research, and let percolate. The last 24 hours, and the upcoming days and weeks will be filled with some mental shifts or tweaks. 

And that is empowering. Attending conferences like this help me to be a better parent for my children.  They remind me that it's not okay for me to read a couple books in preparation to adopt, attend some Korean festivals and go to a Korea restaurant once a month, and call it good.  They remind me that racism isn't something that I can hear someone talk about once and have a grasp on it as a whole.  They remind me that pediatricians and schools might not have the knowledge or skills to look at my son's whole history to make the best decisions.  They remind me that I am the temporary gatekeeper to my child's world, but that the world that is inherently his is not mine.

I have so many things I'll be undoubtedly writing about as I work thought them in my head, but for now, I thought I would share the most memorable bit of info from yesterday (memorable as in the true sense of not having to go to my notes which are across the room).

I heard Kevin D. Hofmann speak yesterday and spent some time again today on his blog (which, if you read, know that some of the best discussions come from the dialogue in the comments, so don't pass those up).  He is a successful, well adjusted, seemingly happy man/son/brother/husband/father.  He is biracial and was adopted a very long time ago by a white family.  And although he seems happy with his life and clearly loves his family, he doesn't pull punches and try to sugarcoat the topic.  He made a lot of really excellent points, but two comments that drove into my heart are below:

1. "Culture isn't fried chicken, tacos, or spring rolls." Ouch. And he's so right.  Although I love the fact that my son is packing back kimchi when we go to a Korean restaurant, is any part of the experience actually allowing him to access his cultural heritage? No.  No more so then him becoming an honorary Italian any time we go to an Italian restaurant.  Looking at Korean art in our home?  Nope, not unless he knows what the words say or the symbols mean.  Wearing a hanbok?  Nope. Not unless he is actively participating in an event that Koreans would normally wear a hanbok at.  I don't think he was inferring that these things are wrong to do with our children, but rather, I think he means that it's not enough.  And I agree with him.  BUT, honestly, it's all I can give my children, since I am not Korean.  Even taking my children back to Korea again and again won't be enough, because they'll be experiencing it through the eyes of a foreigner. At some point, I have to admit that I cannot give my sons their Korean heritage.

Which brings me to the second point from Kevin D. Hofmann that hit home for me.

2. Just as you would, as a parent, move mountains and sacrifice for your child with special needs to get what he or she needed to reach their full potential, so should we consider living as a transcultural adoptee a type of "special need." They need to have access to their cultural heritage that can be given only by those who are part of that culture; they need to have a chance to understand that part of themselves and be able to reclaim it should they desire to; and they need to have parents who not only support that need, but are willing to sacrifice their own comfort for it.  Mr. Hofmann feels the best way to do this is to become the minority and allow your child the opportunity to be a majority in some small part of their lives. This one is harder for me, and something I am still trying to figure out how best to do, but it's a theme that comes up over and over from adults who were adopted transculurally, so as hard as it is for me to understand and want to admit and accept, my gut tells me it is the truth. 

Appa and I are not doing enough, that much I know.  And I am thankful for the reminder.  But for now, I've only gotten far enough to acknowledge the truth....figuring out what to do with that truth will take a little more time.