Adoption Work: Something Keeps Pulling Me Back
Image by Unsplash/Luis Alphonso Orellana (@alphonzs)
Similar to a love song, my relationship to adoption does sort of mirror a love relationship, albeit a dysfunctional one! I kept trying to leave but something would pull me back in. I’ve had a push-pull dynamic with talking and writing about adoption since the beginning. As a transracial adoptee, adoption has been prominent in my life - there’s no “pretending” that it didn’t happen when you look completely different from the rest of your family - that’s why talking about adoption seemed natural to me. Even if I like to keep my family affairs private, I’ve felt compelled to speak about my adoption and the politics of adoption because it’s both liberating and necessary. It’s feels dangerous and exhilarating at the same time to criticize adoption and how privileged people form families.
For me, the downside of adoptee advocacy has been that it tends to take over my life. Because adoption is about the personal and the political intertwined - it gets very emotionally exhausting. In the past, I’ve scaled back for months at a time, broken promises and was unreliable with some projects. I’m not proud of it, but I’ve come to realize it takes an incredible amount of emotional labour to be involved in adoption advocacy - I’m amazed at those who seem to have an undying source of energy! To be honest, I haven’t had the emotional wherewithal to be fully in it with two feet. I didn’t have firm boundaries or the willpower to say NO, put my phone down and close my computer when I had had enough. I definitely had a lot of “fighter” energy - my nervous system was in FIGHT mode constantly.
I felt I needed to “fight” (virtually) for the cause of adoptees. Fighting in this case meant: being present, responding to messages, supporting adoptees virtually, having open discussions (with whoever, wherever, whenever), keeping up to date with international adoption news and policy and sharing my 2-cents publicly when requested or necessary.
I love this work. I love talking to adoptees and learning about their stories - I’m constantly awed at how resilient we are. I’m so proud of us, those of us who have weathered the storms and survived. I feel very honored and fortunate to have a voice and be heard when many people have not. I always think about them when I speak, especially the parents of adoption loss who are still the most UNheard.
Still, all the activity left me feeling depleted. After a series of big disappointments in my personal life, I made the decision to stop doing all adoption-related work in 2017. I went into full-fledged hermit-mode by deleting all my social media accounts for over 1 year and completely disengaged with most people, including my adoptee contacts. I really loved having the time away from the world and dwelling in solitude.
During this time, I did however, get pregnant (surprise surprise). It was unexpected and meant to happen. My pregnancy and journey into motherhood made me think more deeply about my roots. I started to really miss my culture of origin in a tangible way (more on that later). I also started to develop more empathy for parents not able to parent or care for their children (and also more compassion for couples who can’t conceive). I started to document my thoughts and feelings along the way, but didn’t feel it was the right time to share them.
Now that some time has gone by (I’m 2 years into motherhood already!), I feel more comfortable writing and speaking about the experience of being an adoptee and mother. Also, I don’t have endless amounts of time to argue or worry about what people think (!!), ain’t nobody got time for that, as they say.
I’m profoundly grateful for this new experience and new vantage point. I don’t plan to write exclusively about adoption or parenting but it’ll likely be guiding thread because as I’ve come to realize; I can’t run away from talking about adoption because it shapes so much of who I am, how I think, my relationships and mothering, my whole world.
I’ve always wanted to exist as a human being, regardless of that experience, however it isn’t really possible. I’ve come to be at peace with it and not resist it anymore: my adoption experience and adoptee identity is part of me, but it doesn’t have to be everything. I can give it space to exist, but also give myself space to be me, where adoption isn’t the focus.
Thanks for being here and accompanying me on this journey, who knows where it will lead.
Kassaye
