Growing Family

Mucking About

This may not come as a surprise to you, or more likely, you'll never even know I posted this, because the truth of the matter is, readers are dropping like flies from my blog. There are still a few faithful, and I love each of you!

I've been thinking about what's going on and I think there are a couple factors. First, well, I haven't been writing much. If you want people to read and comment, it kind of helps to give them something to read, eh? I do recognize that basic fact. However, this blog being the cathartic medium I've always treasured it to be, means that I don't write stuff just to have a post up. I write something when I have something to process, or something to say.

It's not that I haven't been processing lately...I actually have a lot on my mind. For some strange reason, that goes beyond all of the history of my personality, I am processing inside. My inner processes aren't often surfacing in conscious words and lines of thought, they are more like the currents, under the surface of the water. I always process out loud. Lately, I'm not emailing my girlfriends, I'm not even really trying to talk to The Captain. I've been journaling a bit, but what is happening in me seems so private. How odd that as I write this, I don't even know what I am talking about! Okay, that's not entirely true. There are two issues which are very personal, or very painful, that aren't public material, but in general there's just a lot of undeveloped processing happening inside of me.

So, that's the bit about my thoughts being stuck inside and not coming out. The other bit is that my blog is lacking definition right now. It is not adoption-focused enough to draw the adoption crowd, and the same is true for parenting, and ex-pat-living, not to mention our ex-pat experience isn't really exciting enough to draw those readers. Since I write a little bit about a variety of things, I'm not pulling any one crowd, and I'm not gaining new readers.

Then there's also the very real possibility that I've turned people off somewhere.

So, what do I do? I don't want to shut my blog down, but this internal processing is really cramping my style. I don't want to go on a post-a-thon, trying to draw readers. And I don't want to go out fishing for readers. Kind of sounds like I'm really not that passionate about keeping this thing going, doesn't it?

The thing is, life is seasonal, and for me, blogging is too. I think I am in a quiet season where I am going deep, in order to get ready for what comes next.  It's like a long inhale, before I start sprinting. I feel like I need some time to close my eyes, and listen to the stillness. So, maybe a blog sabbatical? I'm just afraid that if I go away entirely for a period of time, no one will be here when I come back...and that would be too bad because I really like sharing this here, with you.

Just a couple thoughts...the ones that made it to the surface, at least.

Read This

Mayhem Mama (http://mayhemandmagic.typepad.com/mayhem_and_magic/) has this article up on her blog and I think everyone should go read it.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2006/07/01/AR2006070100462.html

Being Black in America, and the world does affect how you live. Read it.

ps-what is wrong with my hyperlink! Arg.

Does an Explanation Void an Apology?

I have a bad habit. When I've hurt someone, and I go to apologize, I usually end up trying to explain myself because I think that if the person really understood where I was coming from, they wouldn't have been hurt in the first place. I think it comes partly from my compulsion to have the full truth out there. I don't want to leave someone with misconceptions about what I really meant or intended. I'm about to do that here.

Sometimes when I write something, I know that my tone is sarcastic, disrespectful, condescending, or judgmental. Lately I've been struggling with how to acknowledge that, knowing that right now, writing that way is serving a purpose in my life so I am not planning on editing myself in that regard. I don't want to hurt people, and I certainly don't want to convey that I think I know all about the topics I'm addressing. I don't.

Before I started blogging, I was talking to a good friend of mine. I told him I was thinking about trying my hand at blogging because I wanted a space to hash out what I was experiencing as an adoptive parent with a transracially adopted child. As wonderful and supportive as my friends were, when I needed to talk about the things I was seeing and experiencing, they just didn't get it. I don't blame or fault them, they just didn't. Instead of holding inside the things that made me angry or curious or sad, I needed a place to lay them out and process. So I came here.

I think so many people have already been through much of this process in the course of growing up. They have seen racism and white privilege in action, and have a schema for processing new information. Because I grew up as a home schooled kid living in the country, I didn't have those opportunities. I didn't see those things in action until I became mother to my son and it was very personal.

Discovering white privilege, the effects of Colonialism, current racism and stereotyping, discovering that adoption isn't conducted in an ethical manner much of the time, hearing for the first time that many first mothers suffer depression and grief and trauma for years after placement, coming to terms with my role in adoption, learning that many adoptees view adoption as a negative and damaging experience, navigating our semi-open adoption, all while bonding with my new son and parenting my new daughter, has been A LOT to deal with. Honestly, some days I am just reeling from it all.

What I spent my whole life believing about adoption, and aspiring to in adopting, has been totally rocked. I have learned and processed more information that affects me emotionally, in the last three years, than I would have ever imagined possible.

What I write here is an emotional release for me. After putting things into words I can let them go and move on to what I need to process next. Sometimes what I release is anger. Sometimes it's outrage. Sometimes it's sadness. Sometimes it's fear.

When I think about changing my tone to write this for YOU, to offend YOU less, and to garnish more readers through my honey-soaked, carefully weighed and measured arguments, I can't do it. Not right now. Right now I still need this place to come and rant once in awhile.

When I went to that school and they were playing music that was created to hurt members of my son's race, that made me angry. That they were playing it, yes, but that that kind of devisive evil is in our world. I need a place to scream that that is not okay.

I think I can also come across as aggressive sometimes because I am insecure here. As a blogger I am writing monologues. I can write something so personal to me and have lots of people read it but no one comment. It's like crying in public when no one asks you what's wrong. Sometimes I can handle that, and sometimes I come to the keyboard defensive because I have to get my thoughts out but I'm afraid someone will judge me for it or worse, that no one will say anything at all.

I'm sorry if I hurt you here. I'm sorry if I'm rude. I invite you to tell me so. I know that I am not always balanced and as my brother-in-law says in his Italian way, "I know I run my mouth." So, if me running my mouth bugs you, please tell me so that we can work it out.

Back to our previously scheduled programming!

I Don't Know Where I'm Going But I Do Know Why I'm Here

The first year of parenting is full of new experiences and I doubt that anyone can come through it without some pretty life-changing shifts in perspective. I knew that would be the case before I became a parent, I just didn't realize which perspectives would change the most.

I remember telling a friend of mine, a single guy friend who was outside my "mommy circle", "you know, I've been thinking about starting a blog to have a place to write about what I'm experiencing parenting Small Sun, that my other mommy friends don't get." Our little family hadn't been together long before I began to notice...things. I ventured to ask my friends about experiences or conversations that struck me as odd or inappropriate and my friends told me "oh, I wouldn't take it that way" or "they didn't mean that". At that point I didn't have any other friends who had adopted, no peer group for our kind of family. My mommy friends were my only sounding board and they told me that when I thought someone was treating us oddly, I was wrong.

I can't explain how relieved I felt when I read The Racism Radar by Vera L. I'd love it if you could read the whole thing but here are some core pieces that I want to reference:

I wish the racism radar could be as technically sure and accurate as the real thing. But it is a very subjective, subtle instrument. Something in the context of an incident, something in a person’s voice or attitude when they make a remark, the way that a co-worker off-handedly tosses a report onto a desk, or passes over a comment made by a person of color in a meeting – something — starts an internal “ping, ping, ping” and we are on guard, alert and watching. “What is going on here? Did he really just do that? Am I seeing right?” And because the kind of ordinary, every day racism that people of color face is usually not as clear cut as the comments Don Imus hurled at the Rutgers Women’s basketball team (although, incredibly, because he was “joking” there were those who argued he was not being racist at all), we are often left to figure out whether we’re getting an accurate reading. We look at the context of the incident, what we know about the people involved, whether there have been similar incidents in the past, look to the reactions of others in the room. Often, the radar will result in the only two African Americans in the room exchanging knowing glances while the white folks move obliviously along...

Yes, it’s true, there are some black people whose radars are set to the sensitive side – they see racist conspiracy everywhere. And there are some black people who stay at the opposite side of the dial, refusing to see racism, and brushing away all but the most undeniable incidents. And then there are the rest of us who make our conclusions incident by incident, based on a combination of what’s in front of us and past experience...

But it is also my experience that for many white folks who don’t deal with everyday racism the radar is either dialed way down or just flat doesn’t work at all. Most white people who aren’t forced to confront racists acts and attitudes are more comfortable with the idea that racism no longer exists, and believe that those of us who see it are boxing shadows of the past. And since white culture is the majority culture here in the US, the prevailing attitude leans towards dismissing as innocent all but the most egregious acts of racism. To do otherwise is being “too sensitive” or “avoiding responsibility”.

What I took away most from this is that when I feel alarmed or concerned about the way someone is interacting with me or my child, I shouldn't just disregard it and assume the best. I should examine it carefully and consider what is bothering me and why. I started this blog to have a place to do that, because the people I tried to process it with, live, had their radar "dialed way down" and thought I was being too sensitive.

In response to my "I Don't See Color" post, Heather said:

1- "choosing to minimize or disregard a person's color is part of white privilege.": A person saying they don't "notice" color does not mean they are minimizing or disregarding their race. It may simply mean it is not foremost in their impression or their opinion of that person.

2- "Ambivalence about race is the luxury of a person who does not experience discrimination based on their race": Ambivalence about race is not a bad thing. These people mean it in a way such as they have no preference for one over the other. They are not all discounting the race of a person as in the culture and heritage of their ethnicity that makes up who they are. They are simply saying they don't think of them as being different as a person. There is nothing more to it than that. They are saying that they see a person, a human being, who may have a different color of skin, but is living in the same country, in the same world, as anyone else; white, black, tan or whatever. Skin color is not the total of who they are. Not the total. Not "noticing" skin tone does not equal parents not noticing who they are as a person, ethnicity included.

As much as you have stereotyped people who are not in your position and may misspeak things (according to you), I think you are just as guilty of jumping to conclusions and only looking at the way you see things as anyone on any side of this difference.

What I am doing here is relating my personal experiences and things that give me pause in my interactions with others. I do understand that whenever I make an assumption about another person's motivation, without having it directly from the horse's mouth, I am at risk of stereotyping. In addition I know I stereotype different groups from time to time. That said, I came to the internet to learn from the perspectives of people I do not have close relationships in real life: first parents, adoptees, and Persons of Color. I don't spend as much time focusing on the experience of adoptive parents because I am on that side of things, I've worked in adoption, I know a lot of adoptive parents. I feel like that experience is familiar enough to me to generalize about, and of course I am going to mis-represent someone. That's the nature of generalizations.

You are telling me here, what people really mean when they say things, yet you don't really know either. You and I can only speculate on a person's true motivation and what they "really mean". I'm writing here about MY reaction to certain statements and MY PERSPECTIVE on the outcome of those views, and why I find those discussions to be difficult. This goes beautifully with what Lori said about my "Arg" moment:

I feel like I need to apologize in advance for anything I might communicate out of ignorance. I sometimes go back over conversations we've had and wonder if you've taken offense or thought that things I've said were stupid, insensitive, or inappropriate. I have no idea what it's like to be the mom of a child whose skin color is different from mine. I do know what it's like to go to dinner or to the movies with a date whose color is different from mine. I've also experienced going places and doing things with children whose skin color differs from mine (and that of my children), but I no longer expect people to make inappropriate comments. I'm actually surprised when they do. Interestingly enough, they usually don't. I think it's mostly because I'm not looking for it. I think a lot of our experience is based on what kind of glasses we wear--what we're accustomed to noticing--what we're looking for--what we believe about the world around us--and what we've been taught to believe.

I used to agree with you. Before we adopted Small Sun I probably would have said the same thing. But then I started getting those "ping ping pings" on my radar. Remember people, how I grew up. I was a home school kid living in the country and going to small churches. I knew about the Civil Rights movement and that the KKK still did bad stuff...but I didn't really know ANYTHING about race relations in American today. I tried to educate myself before we adopted and I thought I was pretty prepared. I knew there were racist people out there and that it would be my job to protect and raise my children to be successful in spite of racism, but I thought that was "out there", "in the future". The effects of stereotype and white privilege and prejudice have found me and my family in places I never expected.

A leader in our church meets my son for the first time and immediately asks me if his mom was young and using drugs. A close friend uses a discriminatory ethnic stereotype while my son is feet away. Friends confide in me why they couldn't have a child of color in their family because of the racism that exists there.

I didn't expect that. I didn't expect these things to creep so close. I thought I had to protect my son from unfair hiring practices or biased school systems. I didn't know that I would be patiently explaining about how we value our son's mother and want a relationship with her, or that my son isn't going to choose his other family and go live with them when he finds out about them (obviously he's not going to "find out" if he always knows), or that not all African Americans are naturally good at sports and so my son might not be an athlete, or that not all black people know how to dance, my son just loves to groove.

I knew when we started building our family that I needed to prepare for a lifetime of visibility and curiosity. I just didn't know that after 2+ years I would still get nervous when people start with "so...your son's adopted?" and I don't know where they're going with it. Some people have perfectly innocent questions and are sincerely interested in adoption. Others are just curious and feel they have the right to ask very personal questions about our family or make statements about race or adoption that are simply inappropriate. Still others are just looking for a launching pad to air their opinions.

I appreciate those of you who I know in real life, who have come here to get a glimpse of my parenting experience, and I don't want to scare you out of my life. At the same time, I honestly don't see a little second guessing or careful thinking as a bad thing. I just read a piece about the difficulty of Aboriginal-European Australian relations and the advice to the immigrant was "speak carefully, ask questions thoughtfully, and above all else, listen." Racism IS all around us, whether I'm on hyper alert or in oblivious mode. I am paying attention to the "pings" on my radar because whether I regard them and formulate a response, or choose to stay silent, I am dialing into the world that my son will experience.  He can do it with our help, or we can set him to do it alone. One day he'll have to take the world and its injustice on by himself, but not today.

 

 

I haven't been writing much...

...and there's probably a couple reasons why.

I spent the last couple weeks without my normal kid help and I ended up feeling pretty much like my brain was mush. Creativity-low, energy-low, motivation-low. It is amazing how much a little bit of help in the week makes everything go more smoothly. I am already thinking of ways to find that help in Sydney where I'll have no social network.

I come here mostly to write about adoption and transracial parenting, two things that the majority of my peer group can't relate to. Several things have happened since I started writing, though. First, my opinions and ideas on adoption have shifted dramatically. Sometimes I'm afraid of writing something down only to change my mind next week. Also, many of my friends and family now know about my blog and I find myself sometimes censoring things I might say, in efforts to not offend people. Here I started this blog to write uncensored, the things I don't often find an ear for IRL, and now I'm holding myself back.

I'm not really sure what to do about that. I know that my friends who comment can handle my processing and the rough edges I sometimes leave exposed here. It is all of the people who COULD BE reading, but I don't know if they are that make me wonder. The Internet is such a weird place. On one hand it is so anonymous but it can also be so intimate.

So that's pretty much it. I've been busy. I'm going through a heart shift about adoption. I don't know who is reading what I'm writing.

On to other things...we spent the whole weekend working hard, painting our kitchen a color called "fresh persimmon". Fresh it is. You can only imagine how fresh. I'll post pictures when we're all done.

I've really got it in my heart to adopt again, soon. I don't think we can even begin to think about starting the process until we get to Sydney. And about Sydney, it feels like it's never going to happen. This waiting seems ENDLESS! We've been waiting for 7 months now. If this was a pregnancy I'd be almost there and if it were an adoption, we'd be at least a third of the way through. Come on, people.

So anyway, that's this and that in this neck of the woods. If anyone wants to delurk, now would be a good time.

I'm Talking to YOU

So I don't know who you write for, but when I write it is as if no one is there. Well, at least there are less people to mind than there are in real life.

Some of my friends have awarded me the title of The Diplomat because when something needs to be said, I can usually find a graceful way to say it. I'm thankful that I have that talent but that's really not who I want to be when I'm writing here.

I started this blog to be able to write about the things that no one in my peer group really understood. That is, adoption and the challenges of being a white mother with a brown child. It has been a place to vent when I feel misunderstood or alone in my parenting. It has been a medium to reach out to other parents traveling the same road.

I want to keep writing that way, even though many of my friends and family now read what I'm writing here. I don't want to turn into The Diplomat. This is my space to breath. This is where I talk about the reality I'm living in.

I guess I'm afraid that I'll cave to self-censorship (beyond the self-censorship of good sense which I try to leave intact at all times) for fear of hurting or offending my friends.

When I sit down to write, I usually don't remember that people I actually know are reading. I'm just shaking my brains out to see what sticks. So friends, family, people who are used to constant kindness, please know that I love you all dearly. Should you feel offended or hurt by what I write, please let me know. While I do write this for me, I am all about a grounded dialog to better a friendship. So, that said, I am going to keep doing what I do here. For the most part it is pretty manageable, I think, but once in awhile I close my eyes tight and type an expletive, wincing, knowing that my mother may read it.

Categories

So I've just spent way too much time going through my archives and assigning everything a category. I only started categorizing a little while ago so any new readers just have to sort by the dated archives... Today I saw in my stats that someone was searching by topics. I felt bad that they didn't have a complete list to work with...

More interesting (to me at least) upcoming topics include: saving needy children: if not adoption, then what?,  Ayaan Hirsi Ali's Infidel: leaving fundamentalism for a welfare state and the expression of the soul, and Prepping for Holland: Our annual pilgrimage. Stay tuned.

What to Do?

The Captain told me that my last post should have been three different posts and he's right. So, to try to make sense of what's in my head I might post a couple different things.

I've had several different incidents where people arrived at my blog via word or image searches for things incredibly offensive to me, and anyone trying to protect their children. I don't want to mention what they were, even vaguely, for fear of attracting more negative attention. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about anyway. So I don't know what to do. I don't want to password protect my blog because I want more people to learn about it and read it. My brother says this isn't actually true because I'm not doing anything to get my writing out there. If you Google his name you'll come up with tons of links to articles he's written, his blog, and all sorts of things concerning his work and his contribution to his field. Google Kohana and you'll come up with this...and maybe contributions on weboards.

The thing is, I want people who are interested in adoption or parenting to read my blog. That's pretty much it. And I would only want to "market" that if I was writing more seriously than I am now. Right now this acts as a sort of notepad for my jumbled thoughts. "Hey come read my jumbled thoughts!" Well, that's not a big selling point. But, when I write with more focus and intention about adoption and transracial parenting, I feel like I am saying something I would like to draw people's attention to.

So...I want to be known, but I don't. Either way, I don't want to password protect and completely close off any chance of exposure. So, in order to minimize or eliminate inappropriate attention here I've removed most of my pictures, and am only posting pics that are minimally identifying, or taking them down after 24 hours or so. I'm also skewing words that might show up in word searches, and bring the wrong kind of attention. Any ideas on what else I can do? Do any of you have problems with p*rverts coming to your blog? What do you do?

Finally, Rain

Sometimes the rain takes so long to come
That instead of greeting it with lifted heads,
    the living things look low in humility.

It is their toes, their roots, that open up
To welcome and drink in relief.
    Then, the faces lift and smile and weariness is erased.

Maiden Voyage

I used to write alot. Then, I met the man in my life and the things I used to process with pen and paper I began to process with him. I still wrote, but less. Then, after several years of peaceful togetherness, we adopted our first child. Now, the only things I write are anecdotes in his baby book, desperately trying to not let these precious days slip from memory. I have less time to talk to The Captain (hubby extraordinaire) and my thoughts are getting jumbled inside. I wonder, if I don't make time to write for myself, with my pen and paper, will I write for a perceived audience? This is what we will find out.

I used to laugh at the quandries I heard moms trying to work out. "How do I take a shower by myself? How do I get out on a date?" Now I am filling up on humble pie as I realize the answers I came up with in my head are not so easily executed. Of course not all my jumbled thoughts are about such mundane issues. Right now I'm wondering how our growing family will affect all of us. We'll soon be parents with children of two ethnicities, one produced from my own body and one entrusted to us by a wonderful mother, not ready to parent. Together with The Captain  I have a house of two nations, with two languages spoken. How do we impart both? How do I consume goods responsibly without contributing to oppression? How do I love my friends and family well, contributing to their wholeness and success? And the question of utmost importance: How the heck do I stop puking every day? These are the things flying around my mind.

So, if any of this catches your eye, please follow along. Ultimately I hope this gets me writing again.