Happy endings?
For both parties, the greatest risk of an international adoption is that there is no trial phase. Adopting parents are worried about whether the child they adopt might not have some undisclosed serious illness or behavioral problems. Might they end up with an “evil” child like the one in the film Orphan?
The more anxieties the adopting family has, the more difficult it will be for the child to find acceptance.
Renren is a young boy who in 2011, already more than five years old, was adopted out to the US. But before that, he had been rejected by another family that had expressed an interest in adopting him.
Huang Chunnü, a social worker at the Pingtung Branch Office of the TFCF, which handled Renren’s stay with a foster family prior to his placement in the US by the adoption agency, relates that when Renren was three and a half, an American couple with no children of their own agreed to adopt him. But just when everything seemed to be going smoothly, Renren was diagnosed as being mildly mentally handicapped. Just a few days before they were to have their first online contact, the American couple received the evaluation report, and immediately decided to halt the process.
Renren, still just a toddler, didn’t really understand what was going on, but he did know that the “Daddy” that “Auntie” (his social worker) had told him about was not going to come. His mood took a marked change for the worse, and for two or three days he didn’t say a word.
Huang Chunnü says that Renren had little capacity to protect himself against disappointment or shock. He showed little outward emotion, but quietly bottled things up inside. In the short run he simply swallowed the pain and “resigned himself to fate,” but ultimately he blamed himself.
But fortunately it sometimes happens that when one door closes, another opens. An intermediary agency in Taiwan heard about another American couple looking to adopt, who didn’t care in the least that Renren was classified as a special-needs child.
Organizations in Taiwan that match up adopters with adoptees usually don’t put up very long with any family that is interested only in adopting a “perfect” child. Xie Huizhen, the supervisor of social workers at the Christian Salvation Service, says that once they decide to adopt, the parents should unreservedly accept any problems the child may have.
Perhaps the most tragic cases, however, are not those who have difficulty finding adoptive parents in the first place, but those who are actually adopted but then rejected.
Lulu, who has ADHD, was adopted in May of 2010 by a couple from mainland China who had emigrated to the US. His new home also included the couple’s own son, who is one year older than Lulu.
Sadly, the interactions between Lulu and his adoptive parents did not go well, and six months later they gave up on him.
There was no physical abuse involved, says social worker Jean Wang of the Cathwel Service, but the father was rather big on parental authority, and had zero tolerance for Lulu telling lies or testing his new parents’ limits. Although a social worker in the US did an intervention to try to help, the adoptive father was determined to terminate the relationship. Following an evaluation by a US agency, Lulu was then adopted by another local family.
“The original adoptive family did not give this child enough time,” sighs Rosa Wang, Cathwel’s executive director. Considering that there is friction even between family members who have been together all their lives, shouldn’t adoptive parents also be patient?
Who am I?
There is pretty much a global consensus that in-country adoption is the preferred option. There are concerns that adoption that is cross-national, cross-ethnic, or cross-cultural will cut the child off from his or her birth family as well as his or her “mother” culture, leaving the child rootless and creating the risk of an identity crisis.
In 2005, Jane Jeong Trenka, an American of Korean ancestry, published The Language of Blood, a memoir in which she criticizes cross-national adoption. She argues that cross-national adoption cuts off blood ties and distorts the memories of the adopted child. These memories, as she describes them, are like fragments of a dream, experienced as if one were floating in space-time, with some visual content, but, strangely, no language or text!
Trenka’s provocative argument has sparked a lively debate: Does cross-national adoption inevitably mean traumatic identity issues? Is there necessarily a conflict between the “language of love” and “the language of blood”? The critical factor is whether the parents are honest with the child about the child’s birth background.
Taiwanese author Xu Huijun, who along with her US-born husband adopted four children here in Taiwan, published a book in 2011 entitled A Family Like Ours: Finding Happiness Through Adoption. In it, she strongly suggests that “people who are not willing to frankly tell the child about his or her background” should think twice before adopting.
In recent years adoption agencies in Taiwan have strongly emphasized the importance of adoptive families revealing to adopted children their true origins. The point is to make it clear to everyone that “adoption is nothing to be ashamed of,” and every child has the basic right to search for his or her roots.
For adoption within Taiwan, because everyone shares typically Asian physical features, it is difficult to tell at a glance any difference between a natural and an adopted child. But that doesn’t mean that the child’s true identity should be hidden. Where the adoption involves parents of a different racial group, the lack of a genetic relationship is a no-brainer, so it should be even more of a given that the child will be told about their origins as they grow up, and that the parents will respect their choice to search for their roots.
Six years ago Cathwel began taking the initiative to invite adults who had, as children, been sent overseas for adoption, to come back to Taiwan to explore their origins. Their stories of separation from and reuniting with people with whom they have blood ties are very moving.
Cathwel’s Cecilia Chyn recalls a case from five years ago in which a 16-year-old young man named Peter, who had been sent to the US for adoption as a baby, came back to Taiwan to look for his birth mother. Because the mother, who had since married, had never told her husband that she had previously had a child out of wedlock, it was not possible for her to get to Taipei to meet Peter, so Peter agreed to go down to Tainan to meet her.
Peter was already aware that his mother, after getting married, was the sole breadwinner in her family, and that her life was very hard. Guided by a social worker, Peter met with his mom in a factory in a remote mountain area in Tainan. Meeting alone together for the first time, the emotions of more than a decade apart gushed to the surface. “Mom, I’ve never stopped thinking about you!” Hearing this, she covered her head with her arms and wept piteously, unable to speak for a long time.
“I’ve done you wrong! I’m sorry!” she finally said. Just by hearing this sentence directly from his mother, Peter was able to set down the burden of all the feelings of resentment that he had been experiencing for all those years.
There is one touching sentence from A Family Like Ours that is especially worth repeating here: “Although adoption always starts out as tragedy, it can turn into an extraordinarily happy ending.” When birth families stumble, so long as foster families can pick up the baton and pass it along to adoptive families to carry to the finish line, and the whole race is run with commitment, love, and dedication, then we have seen the best there is to be found in the human race