On a daily basis, I don’t remember that I’m Asian. Until I started writing my blogs, I didn’t really think about being adopted much either. It is a part of who I am, but it has never been all-consuming. There were other things that seemed more important.
The other day, my co-worker said that she couldn’t imagine me angry. I laughed because I have a rather formidable temper. I don’t yell a lot, but I become very quiet and icy. What I don’t have is my mother’s Irish temper – lots of emotion and noise. It used to driver her nuts because she would yell and then everything was okay. I, however, am slow to anger and I tend to hold onto it for awhile. I couldn’t grasp the yell lots now and be fine in a minute concept.
I laughed at my co-worker and told her that she would never want to see me angry, but at least I don’t have my mother’s Irish temper. She looked at me for a second, opened up her mouth and then closed it again. A really sheepish look crossed her face and then she started to laugh. “I almost told you that you didn’t look Irish,” she said. “I forgot you were adopted.” …And the underlying comment was that she forgot I was Asian (obviously if she almost said I didn’t look Irish). It failed to be an important part of how she viewed me.
Awhile ago, one of my friends was telling me a story. Someone had asked her about the Asian woman at one of her parties. “I had to think for a second,” she told me. “I don’t think of you as Asian. I don’t really think of you as being anything except you.”
I could worry about that or dwell on the fact that I have rejected my heritage…etc…etc… However, I actually think that it’s a good thing. I don’t want people to look at me and think, “ahhh, she’s adopted from Korea.” Right now, we don’t live in a time where race truly doesn’t matter and we don’t live in a time where everyone is automatically accepted based on who they are inside. That would be my Utopia. So, I can be happy in my own little part of the world where people sometimes forget that I’m Asian – not because I don’t act Asian, but because they see the whole me and not just the outside of me.
I think what you wrote is a kind of testimonial for living in a multi-cultural, blended society. i have always wondered whether a racist person might become less racist if he really got to know several people of a the race that he is prejudiced against. maybe we wouldn’t have all the wars and hatred that we now have. we would see each other as just people not categories. having said that i do hope my adopted korean son embraces all things korean and identifies with being a korean-canadian, not just canadian (as i am). GO REDS!
Growing up in a multi-ethnic family, I was frequently taken by surprise when people would comment on the “Chinese” people around me.
Not that I wasn’t aware that my stepmom and sisters were Chinese…I was aware, and appreciated their sometimes ‘exotic’ influence in my life.
It was more that, most of the time, it was such a non-factor that I forgot that any of those influences could be noticed by a casual observer.
I’m continually having to remind myself that I didn’t give birth to my adopted son. Although our skin tones are different, he looks just like my nephews. Sometimes it just hits me in the face when I try to remember his birth story. “Oh yeah, I don’t know his birth story!” It is a very odd feeling.
On the other hand, I really identified with my Pacific Islander heritage and would always mark it in the “race” box. I found out later that my brother and sister would mark ‘Caucasian’. Although we were all born to the same mom and dad and raised in the same house, we viewed our ethnicity differently. I still wonder why.
I’m going through Hannah’s almost weekly comments about how much she wishes she looked like me and like Laura, my bio daughter. I validate her feelings as best I can. I grieve for what I can’t fix for her. Got any words of wisdom for me, Mo?