Hollee McGinnis was born as Lee Hwa Yeong in South Korea in the early 1970s. Her birth parents did not marry, but Hollee was raised for a time by her birth mother and paternal grandparents, who were seaweed fishermen on an island off the coast of Incheon. When Hollee was 2, her birth family could no longer care for her. So they placed her in the care of a warm and loving couple who ran an orphanage on Deokjeok Island, where she lived with 15 other children. As Hollee recalls, the orphanage was more like a foster home. 

In May 1975, at the age of 3 ½, Hollee came to the U.S. to live with her adoptive family — her parents and two older siblings who were biological to her adoptive parents. Growing up in the suburbs of New York City, Hollee had not considered a career related to adoption. But after she established the adult adoptee organization Also-Known-As in 1996, the trajectory of her life’s work began to change. For the past 30 years, Hollee has been a professor, scholar, writer, policy expert, community organizer and researcher whose work has centered on adoptive and racial/ethnic identity, adverse childhood experiences and complex trauma, cultural loss, and the life course of adoption and adoptee-led mutual aid groups.

Earlier this month, in honor of Asian American, Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander (AANHPI) Heritage Month, Hollee spoke with Holt about her early days in the U.S., her involvement in establishing Also-Known-As, her return to Korea as a researcher and scholar, her current passions and interests, and the legacy she hopes to leave behind. Here are some excerpts from the interview.

Hollee, thank you so much for speaking with us. We’re so grateful for all the work you’ve done for the adoption community over the years. So let’s start at the beginning of your life in the U.S. You arrived here at 3½ years of age, speaking no English and thrust into a completely new environment. What was that like for you?

Back in the 1970s, it was assumed that children were blank slates, that we were resilient and we would just handle things. There wasn’t an understanding of how traumatizing it was for a child to be separated from familiar people and places, and experience disrupted attachments. 

When I arrived in the U.S., I was deeply attached to the people who cared for me in South Korea. In fact, a few years after I left Korea, the director of my orphanage wrote a letter to my parents, describing the day that he and his wife brought me to the airport. I had been escorted to a point [at the airport] where they could no longer see me, but I broke loose and ran back to them. I grabbed onto the legs of the orphanage director’s wife and cried, “Eomma! Eomma!,” or “Mommy! Mommy!” Basically, I was fighting to not get on the plane.

In the first months of being in my new adoptive home, I often ran to the front door saying something in Korean that my mother didn’t understand. Later, she learned I was saying, “I want to go home.” I also wanted my older sister to sleep in the room with me the summer I arrived, which she did for a time. That’s because in Korea, young children do not sleep by themselves until they are much older.

I arrived in May, and by September, I was speaking English and able to go to nursery school. I was able to adjust, and my parents’ love did settle me down. But something inside me was broken.

So what happened next for you?

Growing up, I had to shut the door on my past as a coping mechanism and just start my new life. I identified as Hollee McGinnis, part of an Irish Catholic family. I knew I was adopted, but it only came up in conversation if someone pointed it out, or if I had to explain how I got into my family. There were always these little nibbles, though, these microaggressions. For example, my parents and two siblings and I would go to a restaurant, and a waiter would ask if we needed a table for four — not five, not realizing I was part of the family. 

In college, I realized people were expecting things of me because of my race that I could not deliver. They would speak to me in Chinese or Japanese, or praise me on my English. I thought I would major in Asian studies so I could learn about all the things people expected me to know because of my appearance. But then I thought, well, that’s just fulfilling a racial stereotype! So I changed my major to American studies, focusing mostly on 20^th century race relations. I hoped to better understand why people were interacting with me based on my race and not my lived experiences.

In college, I realized people were expecting things of me because of my race that I could not deliver. They would speak to me in Chinese or Japanese, or praise me on my English.

After college, I was working in New York City when I learned about a three-month leadership training program. As part of the program, we were asked to design something for our community. Since I had studied international adoption and its history as an undergrad, and since I was hearing news stories about Chinese adoptees coming to live in America, I thought this could be a compelling focus of the project. I thought it would have been helpful for me to have had mentors or seen other families like my own when I was growing up, so that was the impetus for this project — to find adult adoptees to mentor this upcoming generation of international transracial adoptees. And that’s how the organization Also-Known-As got started in 1996.

It’s amazing that Also-Known-As is still around today. How has the organization changed?

Once we got started, our mission grew because we realized we needed more than just a mentorship program. So we focused on three things: empowering adoptees to understand their own lived experiences, building bridges back to our countries of origin and to ourselves as a way of healing, and transforming conversations about race. As I began building a community of adoptees for Also-Known-As, I started to feel that adoption was much more at the forefront instead of just in the background of my life. That’s when my career focus started to shift.

(Editor’s note: To delve deeper into her work in the adoption community, Hollee returned to school to earn a master’s degree in social work from Columbia University, completed a clinical fellowship at the Child Study Center at Yale University and worked as the policy director at the Donaldson Adoption Institute, with an emphasis on program development, public policy and mental health care. Then in 2013, Hollee returned to Korea for 18 months to conduct research on children living in orphanages as part of her doctoral dissertation.)

What prompted you to return to South Korea to study children living in orphanages?

In 2000, Also-Known-As planned a trip to Korea for adopted adults and I went as one of the tour guides and mentors. We visited an orphanage, where all the children were 6 and under. It was the first time I’d been back to an orphanage since I was a baby. When I was getting my PhD, I wanted to research the mental health outcomes of adolescents in orphanages in Korea. One of my core questions was, Do children in orphanages experience birth parent loss in the same way that adopted children do?

David Brodzinsky [professor emeritus of clinical and developmental psychology at Rutgers University] was one of the first people to really study birth parent loss as a core trauma or a core stressor of adoption. He found that it correlated with higher anxiety and depression in adopted children. So I was curious if this would be true for the kids in the orphanage too. They ranged in age from 12 to about 18 or 19, and I was struck by the fact that 80% of the kids in my study had some contact with their birth parents. But regardless of contact, they still experienced birth parent loss, and in my data at least, it was found to correlate to higher trauma symptoms. One of the things that came up was that the children didn’t know why they were in the orphanage, why they had been abandoned. I think this is a core question for adopted people too. (You can read more about Hollee’s research in South Korea here.)

What did living in South Korea mean for you personally?

I always had a dream to go back to South Korea and live there for at least a year. So personally, this was very special because I went with my husband, who is also adopted from South Korea, and my oldest son, who was 6 at the time we arrived. It was a really profound, foundational experience that really solidified the subtleties of being in another culture. After that experience, I felt that I was truly bicultural — that year and a half put that deeply in my bones.

When we came back to the U.S., the experience seeded in me a desire to eat the food I ate in Korea because I really developed a palate for it. So that motivated me to cook more Korean food at home, including kimchi. And now I teach kimchi-making workshops from time to time, both in my home and on retreats!

That sounds so interesting. What do those classes involve?

For many years, I felt like an imposter, someone who was “performing” Korean culture when I tried to do things that were Korean. Inside me, I felt like I’m not a Korean Korean, like people who live in Korea are. When I approached culture only from my mind, I thought… ‘I didn’t grow up in Korea. I didn’t grow up with Korean parents. I didn’t eat Korean food every day.’ But when I realized that if I could let go of those thoughts, I could actually touch this authentic part of myself that says, ‘Of course, you’re Korean. What are you talking about?’

So in my classes, I use the power of making kimchi as a healing process for adoptees. We let go of the imposter syndrome, the thoughts that say, ‘How can I make someone else’s food?’ And we reclaim and re-indigenize ourselves to our ancestral wisdom through our bodies, hearts and souls.

That’s beautiful! What else have you been working on these days?

One of the things I’ve been interested in is how complex trauma and early adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) in adoptees can correlate with physical health and mental health challenges and problems as we age. Most of the research on adoptees stops by the time we’re 20 or 30, so we’ve not looked at these long-term health aspects.

Currently, I’m leading a research study called Mapping the Life Course of Adoption Project, which examines the health, wellbeing and importance of adoptee connections in adulthood. In 2023, we surveyed 465 adoptees over the age of 18, who were adopted domestically, internationally or through foster care. The average age of the survey participant was 36, although we did have a few people in their 40s, 50s and even 60s. We’re analyzing the data now and finding that the average number of ACEs is higher in the adoptee survey participants than in the general population — and we’re assessing what impact that might have on our long-term physical and mental health.  

Through the Mapping the Life Course of Adoption Project, we want to leverage the power of research to benefit all adoptees, including those in their 40s, 50s, 60s and 70s.

Complex trauma can show up in in the body in many ways. For example, I have a group of eight close women friends, all adopted from Korea, who I’ve known since my 20s. Five out of the eight of us developed breast cancer in our 40s. Is this related to the fact that the rate of breast cancer is rising among Asian American women in general and at earlier ages? Or is this also somehow connected to our adverse childhood early experiences? We just don’t know because the research isn’t there. That’s part of what we hope to accomplish with this study and others in the future. We want to leverage the power of research to benefit all adoptees, including those in their 40s, 50s, 60s and 70s.

Hollee, you’ve done such important work in so many aspects of your life. Is there a particular motto you live by or legacy you’d like to leave behind?

I think for now I’m trying to live by my principles and my ideals, which are to be fully present to my children, my community, the people who matter to me. I think that’s what I would want to most be remembered for — that I lived a life that wasn’t just lip service, right? That I lived a life aligned with my values and wish for all people to believe in their own beauty and worth.

Finally, as we wrap up Asian American, Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, can you share something about the importance of elevating AANHPI voices — and in particular, AANHPI adoptee voices?

Yes, of course. Adoptees who are of Asian ancestry are a minority within a minority. So it’s very important for us to elevate our experiences. It’s also important for us to connect to how we are immigrants as well, and a part of the Asian American experience. Even though some of our adoptive parents immigrated a long time ago, those legacies of how Asians came into the United States, and our histories as Asian Americans, impact our lived experiences because we walk in Asian bodies. While I also dream that we live in a world where a person is not judged by the color of their skin, the truth is the only way for us to get there is to see how our society has not operated this way. Only when we see how color and race have shaped how we treat each other and ourselves can we move to this dream for all of us.

Holt Post Adoption Services

Holt offers lifelong support to all adoptees, adoptive families, birth parents, caregivers and others whose lives have been touched by adoption.

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The post Adoptee Voices: Hollee McGinnis appeared first on Holt International.

It’s difficult to say when the word “adoption” first popped into our heads. We talked about adoption in the earliest moments of forming our family. Maybe it was an image or a story that stuck with us during our childhood years. We had no examples in our family, per se. It simply felt like a whisper and a heart opening. It felt like extending love, security and family to a child who desperately needed it.

The desire and whispering voice stuck with us as our young children grew. And in the most unlikely moment, that whisper turned into a curiosity about what was possible. Many hurdles had to be overcome and many unlikely “yeses” had to be given. When the doors flung open, we were nervous yet hopeful. We knew we had a lot to learn but that the gift of time would allow us to set out on a journey of growth and maturation that would be important for our family and all our children.

Letting Go and Saying Yes

Throughout the process, decisions that felt a bit unnatural at first had to be made. We simply wanted to be a family for a child who needed one. All the decisions seemed odd beyond that. But nonetheless, we had to move forward with deciding the birth country of our child. The country of South Africa drew us in for its diversity, history, culture and beauty, like so many places around the world.

When we spent more time learning about the HIV crisis in South Africa and learned that a family adopting through the program would need to be open to parenting a child with HIV, we felt equipped and ready to step into the life of a child who had been affected by HIV in some way. It is also no secret that the ethics and complexity of adoption are challenging and important. That was clear to us from the beginning and almost stopped us from pursuing adoption at all. This is why partnering with Wandisa, an agency that fights for safety, security, love and family for all vulnerable children in their community and that does so in such a powerful and ethical way, was really important to us.

If we could say yes to any child born to us, we could say yes to any child in front of us. We knew we could rally as a family around a child and love them deeply regardless of the unknowns of their future.

At the time we entered the program in April 2014, HIV was the main special need of children being adopted from South Africa. However, the program changed dramatically during our time of waiting. Children who were older with higher level needs were more commonly being referred through the program. It was a slow and gradual evolution of thought, realizing that we could parent a child with more severe needs and do it well. Eventually, we could envision that reality and we knew we could become strong advocates for our child regardless of their abilities or medical complexity.

If we could say yes to any child born to us, we could say yes to any child in front of us. We knew we could rally as a family around a child and love them deeply regardless of the unknowns of their future.

It is true what is said for all adoptions: you don’t know what the future holds. But as our openness grew, we began to let go of worries about the future and just remain present to the commitment of love. That mindset would continue to carry us through the many moments ahead.

It isn’t all roses, the parenting or the attachment work or the grief. But this is important and holy work for you and your child.

Parenting a Child With Trauma

All adoptees experience trauma. This is not an opinion, but a fact. The adoption itself is traumatic. While reading is important and educating yourself about what parenting might look like is wise, actually parenting a child with that trauma history and guiding them requires commitment, unconditional love (even when you don’t feel it), and community.

It isn’t all roses, the parenting or the attachment work or the grief. But this is important and holy work for you and your child.

The most powerful support we have received has been in the form of friends and family who can hold your joys and struggles and your triumphs and failures with love and tenderness. Those who can see the beauty and pain in your child and encourage you in your love and care each step of the way are a true gift.

Becoming a Transracial Family

South Africa itself is a beautiful and richly diverse country. It also has its own history with relatively recent ending of apartheid about 30 years ago. Visiting South Africa and learning about the foods and flavors and smells, the people, and the landscape of the country is a pure joy. And yet, racial division still exists very much like it does here in the U.S. It can feel even more obvious in a country that is new to racial reconciliation.

It’s not just about hair or skin care, though those are important. It’s about racial justice, seeking out Black mirrors and mentors, fighting for Black empowerment and for the same educational opportunities and outcomes for Black students, and constantly fighting implicit biases — your own and those of the community around you.

Becoming a transracial family gives new identity to each member. Our commitment to learning about and embracing Black culture, both here in the U.S. and in South Africa, continues. It’s a lifelong journey that is important to each member of our family. We attended a transracial adoption workshop by Angela Tucker prior to our first adoption, which really laid the groundwork for our continued advocacy, learning and work.

It’s not just about hair or skin care, though those are important. It’s about racial justice, seeking out Black mirrors and mentors, fighting for Black empowerment and for the same educational opportunities and outcomes for Black students, and constantly fighting implicit biases — your own and those of the community around you.

It means getting comfortable with being uncomfortable. It means wearing your Black Lives Matter shirt while a truck drives by you waving a confederate flag. It means taking a stand on behalf of Black members of your community and constantly elevating their voices above your own. It’s decentering your whiteness at every opportunity and celebrating your children’s blackness each and every day.

Showing Up for Our Children

Our children were adopted in November 2017 and June 2019. Their stories are their own to tell. Adoption was a last resort for them. And we wish it wasn’t that way. We are committed to walking through their grief together and helping them process all that they have lost. Watching them become exactly who they were created to be with the love and nurturing of family has been some of the most holy witnessing we have ever had the privilege of being part of.

Our children have taught us immeasurably more than we have taught them. And as imperfect parents, we do a lot of apologizing for our failures. But we always show up for each other. We never leave. Even on the hardest days, we show up for our commitment to each other.

Our children’s light shines brightly for all those around them and they are truly a gift in this world. They are beautifully and wonderfully made. Their home is here with us and back home in South Africa. We realize that they are not ours and ours alone. They belong to so many people, even those who had to let go. So as we talk about first families, celebrate South African holidays, make South African food and dance to South African music in our home, we do it with a holy remembrance and a longing for our return to show love and commitment to those who remain.

Erin and Adam Turner | Adoptive Parents

Adopt From South Africa

Many children in South Africa are waiting for a loving, permanent family.

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The post Our Story of Adopting From South Africa and Becoming a Transracial Family appeared first on Holt International.

“Hello, my name is Taylor, and a fun fact about me is that I was adopted from Thailand.” This is my go-to quick fact during icebreaker activities or when I’m meeting someone new.

Whenever I say that I am adopted, people always show a lot of interest. They think that it’s the coolest thing since sliced bread. What those people don’t always understand is that adoption isn’t simply the “coolest” thing. It’s much more complex than that. I love my family and adoption is an essential piece of my identity, but I have struggled to process my feelings as an adoptee. It hasn’t always been easy for me.

I was adopted at a young age and the only family I’ve ever known is my adoptive family. People always ask me what age I was when I found out I was adopted. The truth is, I never really “found out” — I just always knew. I was the only brown girl in family pictures, surrounded by my white relatives, and it was clear that I wasn’t biologically related. I grew up in a small town in southwest Wisconsin where cows moo, the weather is unpredictable and there isn’t a lot of diversity. It’s safe to say that I stuck out like a sore thumb — not because of who I was, but because of what I looked like.

Growing up, I struggled with mental health issues rooted in identity and discovering who I was. It wasn’t until college that I realized I never had the chance to mourn the loss of my birth family. I began taking steps to process its implications on my identity, and I’m so glad I did. Because I learned how to grieve and reflect on my adoption, I grew to do things I never thought I could. I felt empowered to ask about my birth mother and to look at pictures of my parents adopting me in Thailand. I was still learning, but things were hopeful.

And soon, it was my junior year of college.

Finding My Birth Mother

I was doing well. I was getting good grades and I had a great group of friends. It seemed like my future was falling into place. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that the last piece of the puzzle was missing.

During winter break, my family and I decided to take a leap and travel to Thailand. I decided that if I was going to travel that far, I wanted to try to contact my birth mother. I contacted Holt’s Post Adoption department to ask for more information about what the adoptee birth search process would look like. Holt was incredibly supportive through this process, offering me resources on how to safely reach out and tips for traveling. The Post Adoption team also met with me before connecting me directly with the Holt team in Thailand. 

Unbelievably, the social worker who reached out from Thailand remembered me — I was her very first case! If that isn’t a perfect example of the saying “it’s a small world,” I don’t know what is. While Holt began the search process on their end, I started looking online. I logged on to Facebook and began searching my birth mother’s name, written on the back of the single picture I had of the two of us. 

After searching, I found my mother on Facebook. We connected over Facebook Messenger and she told me how she waited and dreamed of the day we would finally meet again. Of course, I reached out to Holt Thailand to ensure that I had found the right person, and through records, we confirmed that it was! 

Within about three months, I took my final exams, reconnected with my birth mother, met some family in Thailand via video chat (including two half-siblings) and planned the logistics of our upcoming trip. It was a lot to take in for a 21-year-old who was just trying to get through her junior year of college! Leading up to the trip, I had a lot of fears and doubts about meeting my birth mother. I constantly went back and forth, trying to decide if I still wanted to go….

But with the support of my family, I decided to move forward with the trip. Soon we were all on a plane to Thailand! It was so beautiful. We visited temples, ate amazing food and saw elephants.

First Meeting

At first, it felt like an absolute dream.

But of course, after the dreamy feelings passed, I felt myself coming back to reality. During the trip, I struggled with what felt like culture shock. I was satisfied that I fit in physically, but I still felt distant from my culture emotionally and mentally. I wanted so badly to connect to my roots, but it felt like there was still an invisible barrier between my heritage and me.

After a few days in Bangkok, we flew down to Krabi to meet my birth mother. Just before we were about to meet my mother for dinner, I began questioning everything. I was nervous, stressed, sad and uncertain.

I thought, “Am I really doing this right now? Am I really going to meet my birth mother?”

During my trip, I was in constant contact with Holt via email. My social worker always reminded me that this was a big step to take and that it was okay to go at my own pace. Her constant support along the way reassured me that my story, whatever way it played out, mattered. Keeping this in mind, I kept moving forward.

And all of a sudden, it happened. I met my birth mother.

At that moment in time, everything stood still. Twenty years of my life came full circle. I found my missing puzzle piece. I can’t explain how it felt. But that picture of us, reunited, is truly worth a thousand words. For years, I had wondered how my mother could say goodbye to her child. But at that moment, I realized that my birth mother made the ultimate sacrifice to give me a chance to live the life she always dreamt I would have. For years, I thought she had forgotten about me. And for years, she went to the temple almost every day to pray that we would meet again. She never gave up on me; she had hope for the both of us when I felt like there was no hope at all.

Just like adoption, this trip was a rollercoaster of experiences and emotions. Adoption isn’t perfect. It’s joy, grief, hope, sorrow and love all at once. But I am so blessed to have had this opportunity. I realize that not every adoptee is fortunate enough to have an experience like mine.

My birth family and I do the best we can. We’re still continents away and a culture apart. Twenty years is a long time to make up for, but the best we can do is to build a relationship with the time we have left.

I consider myself a private and quiet person, but I share this story for other adoptees like me. Adoptees who are longing to understand their identity, to feel a sense of belonging. For some, maybe that means taking the step that I did — an adoptee birth search.

Meeting my birth family wasn’t at all what I imagined it to be. I dreamt of this day for years, and somehow, each moment played out differently than it did in my head. But that’s the great thing about special moments. They can’t be pre-planned. They can’t be predicted. They just happen in time. At the right time.

Taylor Beebe | Thai adoptee

The birth search process can be challenging. Success is often dependent on outside factors, including the available information from the country of birth, size of the birth country, birth country laws and whether birth parents are open to reconnection. A search for birth family is possible for some adoptees, but it may not be for all.

At Holt, we are here for all adoptees through both successful and unsuccessful birth searches. Please contact us at pas@holtinternational.org for resources, support and more.

Did you know our team provides support to all Holt adoptees?

Every adoptee has a unique and complex life experience. Our team strives to support all Holt adoptees, by providing help with birth search, citizenship and more.

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The post Finding My Missing Piece — An Adoptee’s Birth Search Story appeared first on Holt International.

In response to the tragic rise in anti-Asian violence, our post adoption services department recently partnered with Bethany Christian Services to provide a panel discussion on racial identity featuring several Asian American adult adoptees. During the live virtual event, panelists discussed the ways that parents of transracial adoptees can best help their children process difficult situations they face at school and in their communities. They also offered suggestions on how to discuss complex issues of race and adoption with their children.

Panelists concluded that one of the best things adoptive parents can do to support children who are facing aggression, bullying or hurtful comments is to validate the events. Adoptive parents can serve their children well by presenting themselves as safe and open family members who are willing to listen to their adopted child’s experiences.

Articles and Videos

Embarrassing Racism: The Burden of Being Alone by Steve Kalb, Director of Holt Post Adoption Services

I’m Not An Exotic Asian by Tara VanderWoude, MSW

Beyond Culture Camp: Promoting Healthy Identity Formation in Adoption — an academic study by the Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute, from the Adoption and Foster Family Coalition website

Video: How to Process Anti-Asian Racism With Your Child by Cam Lee Small, MS, LPCC

Discussion: Should we (adoptive families) move to a more racially diverse area? by Cam Lee Small, MS, LPCC

Resources: Publications, Podcasts and More from Therapy Redeemed

The Adult Adoptee Newsletter from Holt International

Events

Teen Adoptee Group (Zoom Sessions, Summer 2021)

Circle Back Adoptee Mentorship

Adoptive Parent Workshop (Full during Summer 2021, waitlist for upcoming sessions)

Organizations 

Asian American Christian Collaborative

Stop AAPI Hate

Korean American Adoptee Adoptive Family Network

If you are an adoptive parent looking for support and resources for your adopted child, or an adult adoptee, our post adoption services department offers parent and adoptee education and counseling, summer camps, help with birth family search and more.

Holt Post Adoption Services

Holt offers lifelong support to all adoptees, adoptive families, birth parents, caregivers and others whose lives have been touched by adoption.

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The post Resources on Racial and Adoptee Identity for Adoptive Parents appeared first on Holt International.

It’s hard to miss that the root of the word familiarity is family. I had a dear friend and former roommate tell me, as we were heading back to our families for a holiday visit, the first thing she did when she got to her parents’ house was bury her head in the pillows and inhale the smell of home.

I had an immediate flashback to memories of my childhood when I would find the smell of my home a bit off-putting, even borderline stinky. It wasn’t because the people dwelling inside had any hygiene issues. When my friend told me about her little ritual, I realized in that moment it didn’t resonate with me because my house never smelled like home to me.

Pheromones, those little chemicals released and recognizable as a scent and closely linked to our memory, serve to bring about natural attractions in partners. It turns out they might also link us to our family lines and feelings of familiarity and hominess. It was quite a realization that the feeling of home was something I didn’t get in the same way others with biological families take for granted. Without knowing it, for years I lacked familiarity, comfort and knowledge of this deeper connection others seem to assume is normal. This little memory about familiarity through smell made this concept apparent to me for the first time in my 20s and has continued to come up throughout my life.

Growing up as an Asian in a small, less-than-diverse town meant growing up without mirrors of faces that looked like my own. It meant for much of my life I felt perplexingly different and hated that when I looked in the mirror, I was confused by the face I saw — an Asian face that I didn’t quite connect to.

For as long as I can remember, I would take interest when a family had similar features. I would stare at the slope of a jaw that clearly came from a person’s mom or notice how someone’s nose would crinkle when they laughed just like their dad’s. At that time, I didn’t realize I felt a loss that I didn’t have that, too — that sense that I had come from someone else in looks and features. I had no one in my life who would smile when they recognized their eyes in mine.

My husband and I decided to have a family with biological children after a couple years of marriage, and what a journey it’s been. Three little smushy, funny fellas joined our pair, and today they are almost 6, 4 and 1.5. One guy seems like he picked up many of my traits, mannerisms, sense of humor and interests; the other reminds me of his daddy with his goofy walk, fascination with building and fierce will. Our little baby seems like an unbelievably mellow combination of both of us.

There is a lot that is profoundly beautiful and sometimes deeply challenging about having, for the first time, my own family that looks like me. I’ve been feeling a lot of emotions around losing a family and identity I never really knew — and recognizing it on a new, deeper level now, as we have grown our family. With new joys, sometimes they can also bring to the surface feelings of loss — that at 38 I’m only now getting to experience this piece of familiarity.

Abandonment is something many of us have faced on one level or another. Loss of culture, community, extended family, self-identity and yes, parental bonds — our first model of unconditional love. Abandonment feelings are real.

It’s a strange journey to realize how much it affects us to be separated from and left by our birth families. Pushing people away or going over and above to people-please, feeling unseen or unworthy or in a state of confusion about the ideas of love and bonding and feeling that it happened at no fault of our own. Being triggered by seemingly non-threatening things that others might have no response to can be both frustrating and debilitating. The subconscious is a powerful thing.

Seeing my boys’ faces stirs in me a new love, an acceptance of and connection to my roots, my mannerisms, my perceived flaws. I fall in love with them more every day. I start to accept and love myself more, too. The nose that I hated for being too wide and too flat is now the beautiful, adorable nose of my sons that crinkles in the same place when they make silly smiles. The round head that I thought was too big is similar to the head my son says has to be adult-sized to hold all of his adult-sized thoughts — so of course, he needs a bigger hat. The warm yellowish complexion on my chubby face is now the sunshine-filled, tanned cheeks of my babies.

Through this cycle of big feelings and new recognitions, I’ve been observing and examining the harsh insensitivity with which I have sometimes responded in order to face the hurts. That rather than feel my overwhelming feelings of loss, I consistently did my best to suck it up, deal with it and move on. And that energy of sharpness and hardness has been the way I’ve treated myself and many around me in a way to self-protect, keep going and sometimes even to push others away before they could leave me.

On one particular day, as I sat in a café near my office, I asked myself internally how I can overcome being so hard on myself and harsh towards others — especially when feeling emotional or triggered. (Maybe you know the track, “Fix it, get over it, you’re fine, don’t be so emotional!”) With all of the introspection, an upcoming birthday, a renewed search for birth parents, it brought everything to the surface and it culminated in my sobbing in a public place.

As I sat in my little office café crying, another mother saw me, like really saw me.

I had just recently helped to bring her three children to the U.S. from Venezuela, where they had been separated for over two years due to insane financial hardships caused by the country’s ongoing political turmoil. To make sure they didn’t starve, she had to leave her country in search of work. But it meant she had to leave her children without knowing when they could be together again. The journey of mothers is never easy and also gave me empathy for what my mother and many mothers might feel when they are faced with societal issues, pressures and limitations that bring about separations.

Ariana, the Venezuelan momma, saw my tears and asked if she could give me a hug. Then she just sat with me and allowed me to cry without judgment or questions, just soothing sounds, and a quiet, “This too shall pass.” And on that day I actually allowed myself to receive her loving, supportive kindness and finish crying. It was the perfect momma medicine I needed and showed me such a gentle, quiet, kind way of being — the answer to the question of how to ease and counter the harshness.

It was an unbelievable moment of full circle completion. A mother separated from her kids gave me the kind of nurturing allowance I needed and made me feel seen. While I was feeling the loss of my own mother, I had helped her bring her kids back to her. Mirrors to each other and mothers to three boys.

I’m grateful for my journey and biological family to help mend some of my old hurts. It’s nice to know I have little mirrors through my children to the Korean part of myself (and even my whole self). But through this experience with Ariana, I also got to feel how the global family we create is here in ways that heal the wounds of our past and can be a clear mirror to a facet of ourselves. We all have different paths to rediscover what family is, how to find out what home is and create a sense of familiarity.

I wish for you all blessings and love, intimacy and safety in all of your relationships, starting with your relationship with yourself. May we heal and remember we are all in this together.

Megan Youngmee | Adoptee

About the author

Megan Youngmee was adopted at age 2 from South Korea. Raised in a small town in Amish country, Pennsylvania, she moved to Los Angeles as an adult and worked until age 30 in marketing, communications and design for Fortune 500 companies and tech startups. After taking a sabbatical to travel and climb Machu Picchu, she reconnected with and married her childhood crush from their little town of 6,000 people after 18 years apart. Together, they moved to Peru to find balance and simplicity and started a little family of three boys, ages 5.5, 4 and 1.5. They now live in a little village high in the mountains of Peru. For the last eight years, Megan has been busy writing, designing, gardening, running a guest house, supporting non-profits and, of course, “mom-ing” from the Andes.

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Foster care and adoption bring uncertainty to a child’s life. These children face a continuum of unanswered questions, searching for where they came from, who they are and who they will become. When looking at a child in the system from a bird’s eye view, most of their identity has been taken away from them, and everything they ever knew has vanished.

Now try adding race on top of that.

In transracial adoptions, a child from one race or ethnicity is adopted by an adult (parent(s)) of a different race or ethnicity. In most cases, these children are raised by the customs of the adults in their households. This means learning and following the traditions of the adults raising them. Although it is good to teach your child  the traditions/customs that helped shape you as a person, it’s also important to keep your child’s traditions/customs alive as well. Again, foster care and adoption bring uncertainty to a child’s life. If you as the caregiver are not also inviting your child’s race, ethnicity, where they came from, their cultural traditions/customs, etc., you are not fully inviting them into your home.

“I spent the first 12 years of my life thinking I was a little white girl. And when I found out that I wasn’t, it wasn’t just a revelation, it was an identity crisis.”

Children in the system already face a significant amount of trauma due to abuse, neglect or other hard experiences in their life. The one trauma that doesn’t get as much light, but is just as important, is the trauma they experience from losing their biological family and their birth place.

“I spent the first 12 years of my life thinking that I was a little white girl. And when I found out that I wasn’t, it wasn’t just a revelation, it was an identity crisis,” one adoptee shared on a 2018 episode of the podcast Code Switch, titled “Transracial Adoptees On Their Racial Identity And Sense Of Self.”

Adoption and fostering aren’t easy, but there are ways you can help a child of a different race and ethnicity feel more secure and safe in your home. You can:

1.     First talk with family and friends and see if transracial adoption is right for you before welcoming a child of a different race into your home.

2.     Find mentors and role models for your child of their race/ethnicity.

3.     Make new connections in your community with people who celebrate and observe the same traditions and customs as your child.

4.     Keep kids talking by finding time and opportunities for discussions about race and ethnicities.

5.     Acknowledge racism and help guide your child through racism.

6.     Embrace new traditions and cultures of your own, your child’s and others that are not within the origins of yourself or your child’s.

7.     Consider adopting a sibling group.

(Adopt Us Kids, 2002-2021).

Savannah Carter | Foster Care & Adoption Specialist

For More Resources

Ted Talks:

The Reality of Transracial Adoption | Kim Van Brun

Reclaiming My Voice as a Transracial Adoptee | Sara Jones

Adopting a Child of a Different Race? Let’s Talk | Susan Devan Harness

Podcasts:

Code Switch: Transracial Adoptees On Their Racial Identity And Sense of Self

Content on the topic of transracial adoption by youth adoptees, adult adoptees and adult adoptive parents:

The Archibald Project

Adoption by Family Type: Racially and Culturally Diverse Families

Perspectives of People Raised in Racially and Culturally Diverse Families

The post Transracial Adoption — Its Effect on Children and How Parents Can Help appeared first on Holt International.

My biological daughter is 16 months old. She is half Chinese, half Hmong, and I’m hyper-aware of how outwardly friendly new people are to her. I think this parallels the experience of many adoptees.

Babies, in general — just like young adoptees accompanied by their adoptive parents — rarely encounter blatant racism. Because of her age, the racism I experienced as an Asian American has not affected how I’ve raised her to this point. However, as I look into her future, I know that it doesn’t take long for racism to rear its ugly head — a fact that makes me anxious about my role as her father.

I have been called “Chink,” “Chinaman” and other derogatory names; complimented on my good English; asked where I’m “really from”; stared at; denied service at a restaurant while with a large group of other Asian adoptees; and the list goes on. There are other instances where I’m pretty certain race has played a role in how I’m treated, because it’s often assumed that Asians are passive and won’t speak up against unfair treatment.

These experiences, along with my education, have taught me that racism is real. Racism is perpetrated by individuals, but also embedded in the fabric of our society. And despite what society assumes, racism often targets Asian Americans.

I hold an advantage when it comes to teaching my daughter about racism because I study its complex history for my vocation.

I will make sure my daughter knows the history of Asian immigrants and Asian Americans, including exclusion laws that lasted until the 1950s and ‘60s; segregation that helped create opium dens, sunset laws and ethnic enclaves; internment and dropped bombs; as well as employment discrimination, racial resentment and hate crimes. These institutional forms of racism against Asian Americans have largely hinged on Asians being perceived as the enemy threat, forever foreigner or the model minority. And despite widespread beliefs that we’re living in a post-racial society, prejudice and discrimination continue to manifest in new ways.

But I’ll also need to remember that my daughter’s experiences will be different from mine. She’ll encounter things that I, as a male, didn’t face. I will try to foster an open and strong relationship so she feels comfortable talking to me about her experiences, whether positive or negative. And for the times that she might confide in me about an incident of racism or sexism, I will make sure to listen to her story and affirm her feelings rather than simply telling her to ignore what others say.

Lastly, I’ll try to impart on her the various privileges that she might carry. She is a citizen, and her parents are middle class and educated. There are so many groups and categories that society fears, demonizes or dehumanizes. I will teach her to love with all of her heart, but also instill in her that racism and other forms of discrimination are real. I will tell her that we should use our experiences (good and bad), knowledge and privilege to work with others and fight the many forms of injustice.

Dr. Kit Myers is an assistant professor of history and critical race and ethnic studies at the University of California, Merced. 

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On August 26, 2020, the agency Spaulding for Children hosted a webinar on Transracial Adoption and the Black Lives Matter Movement with three panelists who shared their experiences of being adopted into households of different racial and cultural backgrounds. As the panelists explained, a “colorblind” approach fails to recognize the importance a child’s race and culture has on their identity and everyday experiences. When parents ignore their child’s racial and cultural origins, the journey to a healthy identity can be confusing, lonely and even traumatic.

The panelists offered some concrete steps adoptive parents can take:

• Educate yourself on your child’s racial and cultural background and potential experiences by reading books, listening to podcasts, studying history and more.
• Integrate and celebrate your child’s cultural and racial background in your home and daily lives. Consider buying toys and books, listening to music and watching movies that reflect your child’s heritage.
• Find and connect with a local community that shares your child’s heritage and experiences, including being adopted into a diverse family.
• Have conversations with your child early on about their interactions and experiences surrounding race and discrimination.

View the Spaulding for Children webinar on Transracial Adoption and the Black Lives Matter Movement! Or, see additional Race & Racism Post Adoption Parent resources on our website.

The post Why Transracial Parents Shouldn’t Be “Colorblind” appeared first on Holt International.

In this time when families are searching for resources to help talk with their children about race and racism, we’d like to share one of our favorite pieces from this curriculum.

Click here to read some of our training resources about race and racism. While they are geared toward transracial adoptive families, it’s an insightful piece and a valuable reference for every parent looking to discuss this sensitive topic with their child.

Holt Post Adoption Services

Holt offers lifelong support to all adoptees, adoptive families, birth parents, caregivers and others whose lives have been touched by adoption.

learn more

The post Talking About Race & Racism appeared first on Holt International.

When you become a parent, your life as you’ve known it for the last 20, 30, 40 years comes to an (often unceremonious) end — and a beautiful, chaotic, enriching, exhausting, unbelievably fulfilling life begins.

Everyone knows that to be true.

But when you become an adoptive parent — even if you’re already a parent — your life will change in ways that aren’t common knowledge, and that are in fact uniquely specific to this uncommon and very special path to parenthood.

When you adopt, especially if you’re adopting transracially and/or internationally, life becomes more complicated not just for you, but above all, for your adopted child. And with this added complexity comes a greater need for self-reflection, forethought, adaptability and a willingness to step into roles you probably would not need to fill had your child never experienced separation or loss.

As you stand on the brink of this extraordinary life change, take time to consider the new roles and responsibilities that will become a fundamental part of who you are as an adoptive parent. You can’t prepare for everything. But you can — and should — prepare to:

Become Your Child’s Advocate

Prepare to advocate for your child’s rights and needs both at school and in your community. If your child has special medical or developmental needs, identify early intervention services and get your team of specialists together in advance. Prepare to be persistent, ask questions and advocate for your child to ensure she receives the care and support she needs to reach her potential.

If you’re adopting transracially, you will likely face intrusive but well-intentioned — or not-so-well-intentioned — comments and questions from strangers, acquaintances and even family members. Think about how you will respond in a way that affirms your child’s rightful place in your family, directs attention away from your child and toward your family, and empowers your child to respond when he inevitably encounters intrusive questions and comments on his own.

Just like any parent, you will need to stand up for your child and help your child learn to stand up for herself.  

Help Your Child Cope With Trauma & Loss

No matter where she’s from, how many caregivers she’s had to rely on, whether she lived in an orphanage or a foster family, or how old she is when she comes home, every adopted child experiences loss. A child’s separation from her birth mother is inherently traumatic. And when adopted internationally, a child also loses his language and culture. Children are individuals and how they grieve their losses will vary. But in their own way, every child grieves, and as an adoptive parent, it will be your job to help your child cope.

To be emotionally present for your child, you will first need to revisit — and address in healthy ways — any losses or traumas you yourself have experienced. If you haven’t worked through your own losses, your child’s grief may trigger your own, making it difficult to support your child during this vulnerable time.

Sometimes, supporting your child will mean giving him the time and space to grieve on his own. It may mean looking at pictures of your child’s birth parents or foster family with her and showing her that you value the life she had before she joined your family. It may mean comforting him while he cries. But it will always mean being supportive, understanding, patient and emotionally available as your child takes the time she or he needs to grieve. 

Embrace Your Child’s Culture 

When you adopt internationally, your child not only leaves her birth country to become a U.S. citizen. She also leaves her culture and all the familiar sights, smells and sounds that go with it. When you learn to cook Thai food, or hang Chinese artwork on your walls, or play Colombian music in your home, you provide comfort and familiarity — helping to ease your child’s transition home, but also showing your child that you value and respect the culture and traditions of her birth country.

As an adoptive parent, embracing your child’s culture may also require you to step outside your comfort zone and seek out more immersive experiences for your child and your family. Join an Asian-American community group. Visit a Hispanic cultural center. Connect with people who share your child’s heritage. Most importantly, make your child’s culture not just a part of your child’s life — but a part of your life.

Discuss Race & Racism, and Stand Up to Prejudice  

For many adoptive parents, talking about race and racism can feel uncomfortable or even taboo. No doubt, these are sensitive issues. But if you’re planning to adopt a child of a different race from your own, it’s absolutely critical to recognize that your child will not only have questions about why the color of their skin is different from yours — but that their identity as a transracial adoptee will be a key part of who they are.

As you embrace your child’s culture, you also need to embrace your child’s race. Children need to see themselves represented in the movies you watch, the books you read to them, the toys you buy for them, and the friends and professionals you surround yourself with. Most likely, your child will also experience racial prejudice at some point in their lives — and you may or may not be there when it happens.

As a transracial adoptive parent, it’s important that you grow comfortable talking about race and racism with your child in a way that affirms their unique heritage and identity, and empowers them to respond to prejudice — whenever and wherever it happens.

Parenting is hard. And in some ways, adoptive parenting is even harder. But don’t worry — once you’re in the adoption process, you will receive lots of support and training to help you prepare for the unique challenges and life changes that come with adopting a child.

And once home with your child, you won’t be on your own. Holt’s post-adoption team made up of adoptive parents, adult adoptees and social workers will always be available to help you navigate these issues, throughout your lives as a family. 

How Their Lives Changed

“Our lives have changed completely! We’ve been married, without children, for 10 years! The time we wake up in the morning has changed. The time we go to bed has changed. The amount of food we buy has changed. Even the amount of laundry we do has changed! On the other hand, we’ve also been provided with a new and beautiful sense of purpose and a lifetime to spend with two incredible souls that help us to grow every day.” — Bre & Drew Traver, adopted biological brothers William, 7, and Jeison, 4, from Colombia

“Your whole focus changes. Just like that. Your whole life changes and now it’s focused on taking care of these children and making sure they’re healthy and happy. And it’s a lot of laughs. They’re hilarious. A lot of fun. A lot of running around.” — Cara & Ryan Kirkland, adopted John, 6, and Andie, 3, from China

“One of our favorite bedtime books has a line that reads, ‘I wish you more pause than fast-forward.’ This seems to be the theme of our family’s new life together after bringing our daughter home just over two months ago … Our life is now mostly pause and way less fast-forward. We are learning to pause to play, watch, snuggle, adore and praise. The fast-forward reaction would be something like, ‘Oh good, she’s occupied, I have a moment to___.’ But then we’d miss an opportunity to pause to enjoy her and reflect back to her how wonderful and precious she is. The change is better for all of us, too.” — Joanna Floyd, who with her husband, David, adopted Nam Fon, 2, from Thailand

Holt Post Adoption Services

Holt offers lifelong support to all adoptees, adoptive families, birth parents, caregivers and others whose lives have been touched by adoption.

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