Apologia: Good (= Safe) and Dealing with Expectations

Apologia - a defense especially of one's opinions, position, or actions

Purpose - Delineation of the relationship between PTSD, safety ("good"), and expectations. Why expectations drive me batshit crazy and make me want to write a long, rambling rant about why I should be allowed to own my own life without everyone's expectations getting in the way.

Warning - Even a case study is a sample size of one. Don't extrapolate.

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I think one of the things that is most difficult about being an adoptee is being subjected to the world's expectations. Safety is a very big issue for me, and despite living in a very safe suburban neighborhood with Asian, black, other immigrants, and other adoptees, I find that pre-verbal PTSD stays with me in the form of hypervigilance. I have always had nightmares of being taken away in a cage from my home, way before I ever went to preschool, and when my parents moved to the more diverse neighborhood right before kindergarten, these fears only intensified with the rather thorough Holocaust education they give in the public school district. I had a lot of fears about Nazis and the gestapo knocking in the middle of the night, possibly leading me to the gas chambers--not particularly because I was Jewish, but because I sensed danger around every corner. Couple this with Stranger Danger, and the theme of most children books being chased, hunted, or otherwise orphaned, it is a wonder I didn't realize I had a safety issue until I was twenty.

The thing about being "in danger" is that you don't want to be.

What was the definition of "safe" then? Safety meant being with my family, preventing separation, and generally being "good." I had a fear of cops, which could come from some divine knowledge about police confiscations of babies in China or perhaps from my fear of authority figures as the One Child Policy was enforced by the law or perhaps from the gestapo or the helplessness of being in the face of authority...

I've talked on this blog extensively about how the origin story of Chinese adoptees further messed with my sense of value as a human being. Rather than rehashing here, I'll summarize: 1) All first-wave Chinese adoptees were told they were abandoned due to gender or disability. 2) This is not true for the vast majority of adoptees.

Consequence 1: A sense of inferiority, inadequacy, and a general sense of being "bad."

Consequence 2: Being "abandoned" carries with it an innate worthlessness.

Point 1: As no individual story can be corroborated unless there is a DNA match with birthparents, it is best to change the origin story to one of relinquishment (i.e. being given to a neighbor to be brought to the orphanage safely.) 

As a baby, being separated from the birthmother is very traumatic. It's more recent psychology because the world was content with peddling the tabula rasa theory that made it more convenient for some people and less convenient for others. In other words, babies can suffer from PTSD and institutionalized care in an orphanage, no matter how well-run or clean, is harmful. (Note to reader: Insert intelligent dialogue about foster care, orphanages, and potential for abuse. Debate amongst yourselves. Cite cases of rape, abuse, and corruption in all instances in America and abroad.)

So we've established: That due to events outside of my control, I now try to secure my safety and right to life, love, and happiness by being a "good" person. 

Point 1: Orphans and adoptees have a right to life, love, and happiness. The general public would like to tell itself that we are owed less than others, that we must be thankful or grateful or acknowledge our luck, but this is false, antiquated, and insulting. We are humans and we have innate value.

Point 2: A question I have always harbored: Why do strangers want to walk up to young adoptees and want the adoptee to acknowledge they are grateful/lucky? What does it do for the stranger? Does it make them feel good about themselves?--but the stranger is not lucky, it is the adoptee, they say. Does it make them feel good when a five-year-old child says, "Oh, yes, mister, I really could have died. I really could still be back in the orphanage. Golly gosh." I can tell you that after such events, the adoptee has been pushed much closer to suicide, but I cannot for the life of me figure out why such sentiments improve the lives of the strangers. How heartwarming, the little wretch could have died. Praise be to God. 

Point 3: Strangers want me to acknowledge that I am living above my station as a one-time orphan because orphans aren't real people--apparently. To them, I must express gratitude for the life I live because it should not be mine, but it is. When said question is posited in reverse--Well, aren't you grateful you weren't aborted Mrs. Stranger? Aren't you grateful you didn't crash your car and die this morning, Mr. Stranger?--the stranger is left to remark upon your gall, never theirs.

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Resumption of the argument:

The problem with "good" is that there is no singular definition. Growing up, being good meant treating people with respect, not complaining, doing well in school, and listening to my parents. 

But this definition got flipped on its head when I went to undergraduate college: good now meant taking photoshoots of yourself doing community service, good meant bragging about being a savior, good meant not white, good meant not having white parents, good meant not being an adoptee (and certainly not a transracial adoptee). I felt extremely unsafe in undergraduate college because I was subjected to classic racism from students and professors (you're only smart because you're Asian, you don't need to work as hard, etc. etc.) and to woke racism (you're racist because your parents' skin color is white, you are a product of your white parents' sexual fetish for Asian flesh).

An aside: my credentials from the Chinese adoptee community: Holt camps, FCC camps and events, orphanage reunions, smaller orphanage group reunions, CCI events, many Facebook groups, living in a local Chinese adoptee hotspot, traditional Chinese dancer, five-year attendee of local Chinese school.

"Good" by the conventional standard for adoptees as formed by the media. Grateful, happy, lucky, well-adjusted, thankful, blessed, saved, and a taker of life. (This is not my life to own because I should be dead, thus, I must give back by serving others. Cue audience ooh and ahh and footage of adoptee volunteering in an orphanage despite international outcry, UNICEF, and the UN, and the British government's branch of travel bans and pleas to stop the trafficking of orphans and stopping orphanage voluntourism--but that doesn't matter because #orphans makes a great instagram post, especially for college admissions.)

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And finally, I have compiled a list of what "good" means for, rather specifically, a Chinese adoptee. These I have compiled by carefully keeping track of what adoptive parents and the adoption community praises and deems thus "good."

1. Connecting with the birth culture. Adoptees get praised for making dumplings, learning Mandarin, or fan dancing. Even if the adoptee has zero interest in learning Mandarin and all of their Chinese American friends also do not know Mandarin, this does not matter because the white adoptive parent thinks the adoptee should learn Mandarin because that's what Chinese people should do. Side note: Making dumplings isn't groundbreaking nor praiseworthy, yet thousands of nameless strangers online will coo at the Chinese adoptee who so bravely folds the dumpling like an exotic animal. Side note 2: news stations also love a good story about Chinese adoptees, especially if they can get photos of them fan dancing or playing an instrument like the violin.

2. Volunteering at orphanages. Chinese adoptees are expected to go on orphanage home-coming volunteering trips. Why? Because everyone loves a good orphan giving back story, especially instagram and college admissions. This is possibly the very worst expectation because it completely disregards responsible childcare, human psychology, and the structure of corruption in the adoption industry. I've written extensively on the subject elsewhere. Adoptive parents who are blind to their own child's needs want to thrust their unqualified child across the world to handle traumatized individuals like stuffed animals. You can hide under the shield of "giving back" all you want, but you're exacerbating separation and abandonment trauma, using orphans as your props for self-promotion and self-discovery, and to top it off, voluntarily becoming a cog in the orphanage industry that profits from human trafficking. But that doesn't matter because adoptive parents jump for joy. Note: you're not a savior. Note: volunteer trips are part of the tourism industry, the sooner you understand that the better. You're not helping the orphans, the orphanage is luring you there by dangling defenseless babies so that you add to the local economy. Side note: Popular Chinese adoptee volunteering program has sold orphan hugs to raise money. Pimping out orphans, congratulations adoption community.

3. Having other Chinese adoptee friends. Without a doubt, having a set of Chinese adoptees smiling in a group photo is the adoptive parents' dream come true. Everyone clamors for the shot: news articles, adoptive parents, even adoptee blogs know how powerful the idea of Chinese adoptees: best friends forever is to the average viewer. This is why so many Chinese adoptee blogs feature stories of meeting other Chinese adoptees with nary a negative thing to say, because there's a wonderfully debilitating expectation that we all get along and more than that, are perfect together. This fantasy has haunted more than a few adoptees I know who got trapped in orphanage groups from a young age and consequently hate them all. Adoptive parents and the public are desperate to see us all together, drawing strength from each other like a mutant plant with a single root, because we should be alike, right? The fact we are individuals with different upbringings and experiences is absolutely no match for the coveted Chinese adoptee get together. I have seen desperate adoptive parents begging on chatrooms for other parents to share their child with them: my adoptee needs a penpal, preferably from their own orphanage, my adoptee needs a Chinese adoptee friend, my adoptee needs another Chinese adoptee--Why? If she wanted a Chinese adoptee friend so badly, surely she could find her own. Yet, it is the adoptive parents who have this need rather than the adoptee, initiating and sometimes bullying other Chinese adoptees into making contact with their child. It is disrespectful on so many levels. Point 1: Wow, you've made a stunning observation that we both have yellow skin and now you think all Asians are alike. Please educate yourself. Point 2: We are individuals and I can assure you our community is not cohesive.

4. Being grateful. This is used by adoptees to get praised. This is also used by adoptees as a disclaimer for their own existence. This is often used by adoptive parents to hurt adoptees, because being right is worth much more than an orphan's life, right?

Example: I'm grateful but I wish I could find my birthparents.

Example: I'm so thankful for the opportunities (i.e. my life) I've had which I wouldn't have gotten in the orphanage/China, but...

Example: I don't need to be thankful to be grateful. (Read: I'm confused and want to be both a "good" adoptee and a "woke" adoptee.)

Example: I'm an adoptive parent and I disagree with your idea, you are so ungrateful! (Read: kill yourself.)

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Being Good on a Hierarchy of Most Good to Bad

The problems with these expectations are that 1) they are ill-informed half-baked fantasies. 2) adoptees who are seeking safety can easily feel this safety is threatened when another adoptee is "outperforming them" on the hierarchy that is the "good adoptee" scale. 

If another adoptee is "better," would their adoptive parents prefer to have them as a child instead? Or at least, reinforces feelings of inadequacy. This is not a case of good sportsmanship, as these feelings of competition typically don't occur with non-adoptees. From my own experience as a self-appointed adoptee anthropologist, I would say that this happens very often. It is up to the adoptive parents to get educated and make their love obvious and known for their own child many, many, many, many times--and it never ends.

Some days I feel paralyzed, trapped by all the expectations because I'm trying to be "good" (Read: safe) and that can be hard because "good" is not singularly defined. Being "good" as defined by Molly can contradict "good" as defined by Joe. 

For instance, "good" as defined by my childhood meant "getting good grades and trying my best." 

"Good" as defined by my undergraduate college meant "getting mediocre grades because otherwise you're uptight and clearly don't understand that there's more to life than grades and also you're Asian and that means you were raised by a Tiger mom and it's up to you to overthrow the family honor and realize that getting B's is better."

This distinction between the two "goods" was very, very hard for me. I absolutely hated having my accomplishments diminished in college because of my race and then having my "Tiger mom beliefs" oh-so-heroically challenged by the woke racist professors at my school who took one look at me and assumed an entire life story for me and then had the gall to try to "set me free." 

While other white and black students at my undergraduate college were encouraged to "try their best," my professor never failed to give me the stink face every time to got an A, giving me unsolicited lectures about why "grades weren't everything," as if my academic prowess was a moral failing.

I had to put a poster up in my dorm room that said, "It's okay to get straight A's," and even when I became a top member of my class, I still felt conflicted and ashamed because having good grades was not "good."

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Being an adoptee comes with many, many expectations because so many people have opinions about what that means and how you should live or should think. They range from strangers, reporters, extended family, adoptive parents, even birthparents...and I just want to be me. And that is so, so hard because my safety is wrapped up in fulfilling other people's expectations.

It's so easy...tell an adoptive parent, "Oh, I'm studying Mandarin," and watch them melt into a puddle of goo. "I'm going to volunteer at my orphanage, you know, to give back...the orphans, yes, the orphans..." and watch as they coronate you Queen of the Chinese Adoptees. Tell them, "Oh yes, I still keep in touch with my adoptee group, yes, from the very same orphanage as me," and you'll think you have just cured cancer. These silly little things, and you don't even care about the praise and the preening--you just feel like you're finally "good," that you're "safe."

And when you say, "No, I'm studying Spanish...and I don't agree with orphanage voluntourism because it is harmful to the very ones you're supposed to be helping...and I don't actually enjoy going to adoptee meet-ups"--at the very best, a very disappointed sigh. At the worst, a confrontation about why you're defective since all the other adoptees "get along." But it's more than just being a momentary disappointment, it's a threat to your very sense of self and safety.

And that's a terrible way to live.