O Solo Mama

Single momhood, adoption, middle age. All together now.

“God Directed Me”

If you’ve read this and this here, you may be assuming what I will write about. But when I clicked on the story announced by the words “God Directed Me” there was a surprise waiting: an African-American appears-to-be-single woman who adopted her foster child at age 5 (one of many she had looked after over the years) and an adoption caseworker who is an adoptee and found her original family because she needed to.

Too bad how we’ve gotten into this habit of rushing to judgment. See a phrase like “God directed me” and it’s probably some nutter who thinks God ordained this adopted child just for her *before time* or that by adopting, the kid instantly inherited her blood or DNA. Or the latest: God took the birthmother’s DNA and mixed it with the DNA of the two adoptive parents all because the a-mom’s mother swears the baby is the spittin’ image of her as a baby.

(Refuse to link to any of these stories but if you don’t believe me I can dig them up for you.)

You know, sometimes people are just led.

There is no doubt that Frances Lewis of Brewton, Alabama, is a believer and that she believes in what she is doing. So do most people, most of the time. It’s actually hard to recognize something as really bad and muster all your resources to do it anyway. I believe in my heart that most people who adopt or surrender for adoption have good intentions. A smaller number do not. Some, like Ms. Lewis, are to be admired for avoiding most of adoption’s ethical dilemmas. The government agency she deals with actually believes it is beneficial for children to know and be involved with their original parents. Her adopted child was not a highly coveted white infant but a full-grown child who needed a parent. She fostered so many children without ever so much lifting a grasping forefinger and saying, “God directed me.” She never paid the devil. She never committed “cultural genocide”–a phrase that used to mean the destruction of a people but is now used to describe transracial adoption. Her child’s OBC will be unsealed when and if she decides to access it.

Actually, you know, I can’t find too much wrong with Ms. Lewis. And so I wonder, when adoption is routinely put down because it is routinely uplifted for all the wrong reasons, if the people who only ever put it down ever imagine her.

Ms. Lewis.

When they, you know. Criticize. Gloat. Carp. Complain. Hurl their mighty thunderbolts.

Bet not.

Well, my vent’s over. Now onto fixing adoption.

Filed under: adoption, fatherlessness, kids, life, solo life , , , , , , , ,

Are men attracted to smart women?

This all started because I noticed recently that this post, in which I confessed to loving David Gergen and one my colleagues blurted out that

ahahaha! did you see him blush in the video? he’s so cute when he’s all “Gergeny!” i just love his baked potato head. it’s full of smartness and stuff. *swoon*

. . .continues to have a nice viewing audience. Also there was something about the image of the baked potato head being “full of smartness and stuff” that kept making me laugh out loud and then the big rock fell on my head: women really do think smart men are sexy.

And the reverse is not true.

Men learn to love smart women but it doesn’t come naturally. Smartness for men, I would wager, intially reduces sex appeal but it’s something they can think themselves over. If they’re smart, heh-heh.

The same doesn’t go for gay men or lesbians, though.

Smartness is sexy for lesbians and gay men and their partners, all-ways, two-ways, every-ways because they’ve freed themselves from continuing the species. Lucky them–the same rules don’t apply.

Straight men need to father as many children as possible. Straight women need to pick that special guy who can help her raise a child.

Hence smart men are sexy.

Smart women are the equivalent of the species thinking outside the box.

So don’t go all insane on me. In answer to my own question, yes. But not immediately.

Filed under: Hillary, critical thinking, life, solo life , , , , , , , , ,

Ohio letting moms raise children behind bars

Apparently, the number of women in prison just keeps going up and up in the United States. So Ohio has started a program that will let pregnant inmates give birth to, raise, and keep their babies in prison with them. Why?

Drum roll, please:

Some experts say that approach is best for both mothers and their children because the women are less likely to commit crimes when they get out, and children get to be with their moms during critical periods of their development.

The naysayers claim that prison is all about punishment and that kids don’t belong behind bars. But the research looks convincing at this point:

Programs for convicts and their babies are relatively new, and little research about their effectiveness has been done, according to [Chandra] Villanueva of the Woman’s Institute.

In her study, she found Ohio prison officials looked at the program at its five-year mark and found 118 mothers had participated, with just 3 percent of the women committing another crime within three years of being released. Of the general female prison population 30 percent commit another crime.

Only 3 percent of kids born in prison go into foster care, according to the Bureau of Justice Statistics report, Parents in Prison and their Minor Children. The overwhelming majority live with the other parent or another family member. However, those figures most mostly describe the situation of men. Pregnant inmates have fewer options.

Filed under: adoption, fatherlessness, kids, life, solo life , , , , , , , ,

Transracial adoption: Did you ever think you were white?

That’s what I asked my daughter this morning, after reading about Kim Eun Mi Young in the New York Times. In a story highlighting the release of the Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute study on the challenges of trans-racial adoptees, Beyond Culture Camp, there was this paragraph:

“At no time did I consider myself anything other than white,” said Ms. Young, 48, who lives in San Antonio. “I had no sense of any identity as a Korean woman. Dating an Asian man would have forced me to accept who I was.”

And according to the Institute, about 78% of the other adoptees they interviewed had the same attitude she did. Many of them felt free to explore their identity and heritage only after moving away from their parents to more diverse neighbourhoods.

“So . . . did you ever think you were white?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because there was this story where a Korean adoptee who is in her 40s said she thought of herself as white while she was growing up in the US.”

Pause, pinching arm.

“Do you mean white skin?”

“No, I mean, did you ever think of yourself as anything other than Asian?”

“Nope. Isn’t it obvious?”

Ok, I thought—good check. We live in a place where white kids are now the minority at school (29%) and her friends are mostly non-white, but you never know what a child is thinking just because it is the most protective thing to think.

“Is there such a thing as yellow skin?” she asked abruptly, pulling the post-shower towel off her head.

“No, why?”

“Because when we were doing our film study yesterday, we were talking about skin colour and someone said some people are supposed to have yellow skin and C. looked at him and said, ‘Dude, Lisa on the Simpsons has yellow skin. Nobody human does.’”

“Well, she’s right. That is a stereotype. It used to be said that there were four skin tones—black, white, red, and yellow. That’s . . . uh, very passé now. (Thank goodness for smart kids who can talk about this stuff.)

Anyway, I had to wince at one of the anecdotes related in the Times piece that had to do with identity and reunion. One of the male adoptees from Korea, Joel Ballantyne, was talking about tracking down his relatives in Korea:

. . . Mr. Ballantyne said that while traveling to South Korea was an eye-opening experience in many ways, it was also disheartening.

Many Koreans, they said, did not consider them to be “real Koreans” because they did not speak the language or seem to understand the culture.

Mr. Ballantyne tracked down his maternal grandmother, but when he met her, he said, she scolded him for not learning Korean before he came.

“She was the one who had put me up for adoption,” he said. “So that just created tension between us. Even as I was leaving, she continued to say I needed to learn Korean before I came by again.”

Wonder if he did.

Filed under: adoption, kids, life, solo life , , , , , , , , ,

What does adoption reform mean to you?

Go here, everyone. It’s hot.

Filed under: adoption, fatherlessness, kids, life, solo life , ,

Adoption: Thinking about my daughter’s first mother

I do fantasize about Simone’s first mother.

She is the woman who joins our Curves workout around 9:40, about 10 minutes before we wrap up. Asian, small, slim, in her 40s and you could bounce the proverbial coin off her. It’s more what she projects mentally. Her hair is neat, chin length, and she always wears a cool T-shirt in a cool colour.

At our location, we’re now supposed do extra moves at the mats. A piece of paper in front of each mat has a drawing on it and some instructions. A punch here, a kick there. She does all the moves and more. I believe she makes up her own moves too. If my daughter saw her on TV, she would immediately label her “feisty-tush”–her newly minted word for somebody old (25 and up) who still has brisk locomotion.

When I mumble to my Curves buddy about life, work, or H1N1, this woman often looks over at us and grins.

I know she has nothing to do with me or with my daughter. She is little more than condensation on a window, something breathed out of my own longings and fears.

But that must be how it starts, right?

How you form the picture of someone who might be connected to you?

You look first at the people you’d like to be connected with.

Tradition and demographics suggest that S’s first family is likely to live in a rural area, as this is the largest group that surrenders girls. Then again, they might not; my daughter was found outside a police station in a city with a population of 3,700,000. There may be an older sister, or possibly a younger boy. Or multiple daughters ferried away through international adoption to different families. The fact is, you can’t predict any of this stuff. You can only look at what’s most likely and you could still be dead wrong.

If farmers, her parents could be comfortably well-off or extremely poor—the distance between those two possibilities hard to fathom. The poorest areas of the countryside are places where it’s harder to grow food and people have literally nothing. From a 1999 New York Times article:

In a crumbling mud-brick house, nestled against the untidy heap that holds her family’s entire wardrobe, Zheng Xingrong defines her life with a series of emphatic negatives.

How often do your children eat eggs or meat? ”Never!” Do you have a radio or television? ”No!” Is your 14-year-old daughter in school? ”No!” Does your 8-year-old boy have any toys? ”None!”

Stops your heart, doesn’t it? And yet, that is exactly how this could end. What would any of us do, I wonder, after coming face-to-face with poverty this complete. I hang my head as Zheng Xingrong has a way of waving my own fantasies in my face and saying one more time,“No!”

Why should any of this be easy? It didn’t start out that way.

Filed under: adoption, kids, life, solo life , , , , , , ,

Rescued from Buddhism: A brief history of the Christian adoption movement

Adoption-Celebration-and-Benefit-AuctionA few years ago when the 2008 US presidential election campaign was getting underway I became interested in the left wing of the evangelical movement. Remember the book God’s Politics: Why the Right Gets It Wrong and the Left Doesn’t Get It? That book, written by Jim Wallis, examined how the Religious Right had “hijacked” religion, making it synonomous with Republican Party principles and reducing it to a few hot-button issues like abortion and gay marriage.

Wallis, himself a noted evangelical, charged that the Christian Right’s narrow focus on these two issues was often mean-spirited (read: intolerant and homophobic) and ignored the social gospel entirely. Where was the concern over “issues such as poverty and pandemic diseases, environmental care and climate change, trafficking and human rights, genocide, war and peace”? Recall that in 2005, the year of the book’s publication, objections to the Bush admin and America’s presence in Iraq were peaking and leftie evangelicals were a big part of that movement. Read the rest of this entry »

Filed under: adoption, critical thinking, fatherlessness, kids, life, solo life , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Single moms need reform school?

At NewMajority, where they have boldly dedicated themselves “to the modernization and renewal of the Republican party and the conservative movement,” the following photo was selected for a story about kids of single moms doing badly at school. (“No School Reform Until Single Moms Reform“)

single moms picture

Isn’t that ripe?

How sweet and innocent the child. How awful that mother, bold as brass in her bikini . . . dragging on her cancer stick and throwing her son a baleful look. Why not just stick a thought bubble on top of her head that reads, “Look kid—you’re interrupting my tanning time and I gotta hot date tonight. Now beat it.”

No wonder all our kids are doing badly, right?

Filed under: Single parents have stupid kids, critical thinking, fatherlessness, kids, life, solo life , , , , ,

Inappropriate adoption stuff that’s true whether we like it or not

This post is a continuation of the previous post so if you hated that one, you won’t like this one and it might be best to quit reading now. On the other hand, I’d prefer if you’d stay and comment.

A friend contacted me about Monday’s post, saying, “Questions that bug us like that usually have some truth to them.”

Uh-huh.

That’s why we have Miss Manners to tell us that probing questions are rude and “It’s personal.” This, btw, is Miss Manners’ exclusive come-back to any adoption question: “It’s personal.” That got me thinking about how far one would take that and if hearing these words every single time someone raised adoption in front of my kid would actually benefit her. I think some of this is style—our personality style, our ability to be put on the spot with strangers, our instinct to defend, deflect, or educate. I don’t think there’s one right or wrong way.

When we adopt, we should expect questions. We can spend a lot of time dreaming up snappy comebacks to them (been there, done that) or we can think about what the person is really asking, which is something I’ve only recently begun to do. Below, my top-10 list of rude-or-are-they?-comments*, along with some thoughts. I welcome yours.

*Note that each of these comments has been described as “rude” in various forums, which is why I chose them. Note as well that most of them deal with IA.

No. 10

Are they brothers?

A question I might even ask myself, especially if I knew the children came from the same orphanage or were adopted at the same time. When people ask this question, they are specifically asking if there is a biological sibling relationship. That does not invalidate the brotherhood or sisterhood kids can share beyond DNA. But people aren’t asking about that–they’re asking about former family ties. “Yes, they are certainly brothers but not by birth” is one response that occurred to me.

No. 9

At least they have each other.

Adoption comments that evoke pity or anxiety in your child are a no-no, so this remarks sucks on that basis. Having said that, if you were adopted, would it not mean something to be able to remain with your biological sibling and keep that connection to your past? This is basically what the questioner is trying to say. Along with the fact that losing your family is not exactly fun. “I am so glad they are growing up together” could put Miss Opinionated in her place while respecting the truth of the sentiment.

No. 8

Is her father Chinese? (Korean, Thai, Ethiopian)

Duh, YE-AH. And her mother too! Single a-mom Anne Brittle has pegged this as a “difficult question” in her article about uncomfortable questions for Families With Children from China. But it need not be . . . if answered directly.

No. 7

Do you know anything about her real parents?

My own story with this question here.

No. 6

Has it been hard for him to learn English?

Honestly, how is this rude? Any child adopted at one year or older has already passed several language milestones in his mother tongue. What if one of your born kids were suddenly adopted at 18 months? Would you be thinking that “English doesn’t count”? Do we really think our kids are a blank slate and that English is their first language? Check out the following article on IA children and language delays and difficulties. This is a vastly misunderstood area.

No. 5

What country will you be buying your child from?

Oh, just get over it.

On some level, this is a transaction. We hand over the cash and someone hands us a child. In some instances, the cash will go to pay for something good, like rebuilding the social welfare program in China. In other cases, it’s probably just going to line someone’s pockets. Whatever the case—your adoption, my adoption—is an economy, a system of production, distribution, and consumption. The more we understand that, the better we can come to grips with the totality of our kids’ stories.

Maybe this flashback will put it in perspective. Me, 11 years ago . . . fresh from the bank and keenly aware that the $3000US China orphanage donation is costing me $4000Cdn. Have also made several unsuccessful trips to the diaper aisle and the bottles-and-liners thing has me spooked beyond belief, so I pick up the phone to call my sister in Illinois to tell her what a *wreck* I am.

“BUT–” I point out brightly, “I have the uh . . . the pouch and . . . you know, the US bills I need to uh . . .”

“Buy the baby?”

YUP! My sister said that. She just blurted it out. She even laughed.

No fool she.

No. 4

Is she really yours?

On one level, she isn’t. He isn’t. They aren’t. Those are somebody else’s kids we get to raise. Let me be clear: I know this isn’t our intent—to run out and raise another family’s child. Our intent is to raise a child who can’t be parented, but let’s face facts here. (Breathe: Yes, we’re all real parents and we can answer this question in that spirit.)

No. 3

Does she know she’s adopted?

Hardly a question to shy away from because there’s only one answer: “Of course.” When your child is old enough, you can pass the ball to her with the look that says, “Nitwit here thinks you don’t know you’re adopted” (hard to hide in our family) and let her take over. This is great practice for kids who must often field difficult questions on the playground.

No. 2

What will you tell her about her birthparents?

As much as you know. Again, not a question I’d start shielding my child from, although I’ve definitely been educated about some harrowing stories of hardship from Eastern Europe on the Yahoo search group. So maybe the best way to answer this question is to say, “Whatever information there is, it will be hers.” But better to be asked a few times and for your child to see you dealing with this question than to be repeating over and over, “That’s personal.”

No. 1

Couldn’t you have one of your own?

The granddaddy of them all. People hate it. It’s rude; it seems to say that adopted kids are second-best. But I’d like you to look at the way this subject was handled on Rainbow Kids when it came up:

There are times when we may need to let a particular comment pass and help our child to understand it later. Recently my husband and I were entertaining one of his important clients, and our Colombian-born son was present. The client remarked that she had friends who had adopted two Korean children and later had had two children “of their own.” It seemed best not to risk offending the woman by correcting her choice of words.. The next day I asked our son it he had been bothered by the remark, explaining it as a problem in our language. He replied that he hadn’t minded it at all. I felt reassured that whatever damage might be done by others is within my power to assess, and to repair if necessary.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not saying that these questions are automatically appropriate or that we must answer them in detail or answer them at all. I’m just sayin’ that behind these question are some realities that we have conveniently forgotten in the rush to make families by adoption the new normal. And I think those realities are worth thinking about.

Filed under: adoption, critical thinking, kids, life, solo life , , , , , , , , ,

Adoption: On the real parents

There isn’t another question out there guaranteed to light the adoption stink bomb like “real parents”. As in, are you her real parents?

The Brotherhood of Joseph, an adoption memoir by Brooks Hansen, includes an episode in which Hansen overhears a teenager saying to another (upon hearing she was adopted): “Oh yeah, so have you tried to contact your real parents?” Hansen then writes:

I damn near took him out at his knees . . .

[T]hat was a first for me, feeling the sting of mere words, but there’s no denying: Depending upon the ears that heart it, that phrase “real parents” is right up there with “nigger” and “cunt.” Except that no one out there appears to be remotely aware.

Overreaction much? What is it about this question that makes people insane?

Adoptive parents want to be recognized as real parents but they suspect they might not be.

That is the crux of it. No one gets that crazy when they’re 100% sure of something. Assuredness is a soft blanket; doubt is a bed of nails.

All a-parents have worked through this question in degrees. But if it still makes you insane, it’s probably something you need to explore further. It took me some time.

In the beginning I was armour-plated. I answered Are you her real mother? only one way: No, I’m a hologram; the real one’s napping. Smart alecky isn’t deep but it has a way of moving the conversation along or stopping it altogether so one of us can leave. Fact is, I had no interest in answering that question because I wasn’t sure.

The switch began to flip when we started going more places together. Since we didn’t own a car, cab was our transport of choice if going any distance. Now, the Toronto cab driver population is one of the most educated in the world—guys from Europe, Africa, and Asia with engineering, law, medical, and architecture degrees, many of them waiting for certification in Canada while driving or working in other areas for which they are overqualified.

Often a driver would check us out in the mirror ask if my husband were Chinese. “No,” I’d explain. “I don’t have a husband. My daughter’s adopted.”

“Ah—adopted.”

Pause, with head-nodding. “Do you know anything about her real parents?”

Yup, this was where I finally lost my Are you her real parents? virginity. In the back seat of a cab. With the driver peering politely at me through the rear-view mirror asking a legitimate question. Initially my response was, “Do you mean her biological parents?” Let it be noted that not one of these guys ever said, “Oh, sorry nice-adoptive-parent-lady, of course, that’s what I meant to say and so sorry to have said something THAT stupid and crass.” Nope. Nobody was buyin’ that one.

Truth be told, I didn’t know anything about my daughter’s parents. (Mercifully, she was asleep when most of these conversations took place.) So I’d pay the fare and that would be that. But something stuck with me because after the question had been asked so many times, it didn’t bother me as much and I decided to drop my pretentious “Let me educate you about the bio-parents” thing and just say no.

No, we don’t know anything about them.

No, it would be hard to find them.

No, but one day she might look for them.

The difference between using “positive adoption language” and talking about real people and real situations started to rub off. The stupid and the smart-alecky made fewer appearances.

Fast forward a couple of years when my daughter got to public school. At least a few times I fielded the Where are her real parents? question from kids. By then my response had become, “Do you mean her parents in China?” The child would often nod enthusiastically because kids like it when you get what they’re saying. And that was exactly what they were asking. Where are the other people–her other family? They were not suggesting that our relationship was imaginary or that I was unreal. They just knew they weren’t seeing the whole picture. (BTW, this remains my response if I am ever asked this question today. I make it a point of assuming the questioner is not hostile even if he or she is. It usually works.)

It’s a shame the way real has been hijacked by both pro- and anti-adoption camps with an axe to grind. The word has no meaning when used in a contest of parenthood. Both of sets of parents are real; neither set is imaginary. Of course, amended birth certificates do not mirror that truth in any authentic way. They actually say that what is not real is, and that not defensible.

Neither is it defensible for someone to claim that I cannot love my child or have the same connection to her as I would to a natural child. That she has only one real mother. Not only is that untrue, but it denies my daughter the chance to have a family–a substitute family, if you will–but a family nonetheless. I am not, and never have been, in the business of chaperoning.

Bottom line: real is a charged word. But the closer we draw to our kids, the more we get to see more kinds of real. If this question still makes you insane, don’t let it anymore.

Filed under: adoption, critical thinking, kids, solo life , , , , , , , , ,

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