The Dance of Identities: Korean Adoptees and Their Journey toward Empowerment

Preface

ix Preface I was raised to believe in the American way of life—one that was founded upon the beliefs and values of meritocracy, freedom, and justice for all. With my classmates I pledged allegiance to the flag, learned about the great White explorers who discovered America and the founding fathers who fought for independence, and sang songs that upheld the belief that “this land was made for you and me” (Partridge 2002). It was then relatively easy living in the White middle-class culture because this was the way of life in the land of the free and the home of the brave. And life was good. My parents, peers, and predominantly White community advocated a colorblind/adoption-blind philosophy that was sustained by the White middle -class culture. In elementary school, none of my teachers referred to me as the Korean one, much less the adopted one. It was predetermined that if we didn’t talk about these aspects of my identity, then it wouldn’t be an issue. Multiculturalism then meant learning about the “exotic” cultures in the world (e.g., Aborigines in Australia or Sioux Indians of the American Plains). The multicultural curriculum ultimately upheld the belief that White middle-class culture was “right” and every other culture was therefore different and abnormal. And I still did not have to worry about being different because I was considered a special member of the White middle-class since I had grown up in a predominantly White community that wanted to believe in a colorblind/adoption-blind philosophy. However, whenever I looked in the mirror, I could see I was different. I was told time and again that the world would be a boring place if everybody looked and acted the same, yet I did not want to be different. I wanted to be like my White family and friends. I dedicated my life to speaking proper English, wearing fashionable clothes, playing sports, studying for admission into college, pursuing independence, and striving for a career that would establish a White middle-class lifestyle. In spite of my efforts to “be like White,”1 there were times when complete strangers, mostly White people, felt it their duty and privilege to point out that I was not a member of the White middle class. They would challenge my membership with intrusive questions: “Where did you learn to speak such good English?” “Where are you really from?” “Do you know karate?” The more White people asked me these questions, the more I tried x ◆ preface to prove that I had in fact earned the right to be accepted as an authentic member of the White middle class. Around my friends in particular I tried not only to act as White as possible , but also avoid all things related to Asian culture. When my friends joked about Asians or other people of color in front of me, I laughed with them. When they said, “But you’re not like them, you’re one of us,” I was elated that they did not see me as Asian. I quickly learned that if I denied and rejected my racial differences, then I would at the very least gain recognition as an honorary member of the White middle class. The consequence of living in the White middle-class culture was the denial and disempowerment of my racial and transracial adoptee identities. My parents, White middle-class Americans born and raised in the great state of Iowa, were told by the adoption agencies and social workers to raise me and my transracially adopted siblings in a manner no different from their two White biological children.2 Their childrearing advice implied that my parents should follow a colorblind and adoption-blind philosophy so that all their children would feel loved and accepted. In an attempt to keep me from losing all affiliation with my heritage, my parents made several attempts to connect me with Korean and transracial adoptee communities. For example, my mother took me to Saturday Korean-language school and Sunday school at the local Korean church. And every summer our family attended a weekend retreat for families who had adopted children from Korea and other countries. My mother and a family friend, Dorothy Mattson (who had adopted five children from Korea), realized that their children (and other transracial adoptees attending the retreat) did not feel positive about their identities , especially as they entered their teenage years. Consequently, my mother began researching the first Korean culture...