There's a lot to consider in that statement alone, and we'll see how much I can cover in one post. Who am I? I am a Vietnamese born girl that grew up in a white, middle-class, American family. For the most part, I felt pretty comfortable with who I was back then (I think), and am definitely comfortable and proud of who I am today.
Oh, now is a good time for the 411 on me. I think it's good background for anyone reading my blog to know as a child I used to be REALLY shy. Not sure why, but I was. Insecurities, 2 older (much more vocal) brothers, being adopted, looking different—could be any, all or none of the reasons why. Anyway, as I got older I gained more confidence in who I was and what I believed in, and now consider myself a fairly strong, much more self-aware (and sometimes very opinionated :) person.
My mom made a great effort to keep me in touch with my birth country and culture as much as she could. As (prospective and) adoptive parents, that's what we're supposed to do, right? I'm sure I don't remember all of her attempts, but I do vaguely remember some. I remember having Vietnamese babysitters (a set of three sisters). I think they would sometimes read me stories in Vietnamese (probably around age 6-7ish). I remember having a small yellow ao dai that hung in my closet—even long after I outgrew it. I remember my mom trying to talk to me about my birth country, nonchalantly educating me or maybe just trying to detect a spark of interest. I remember her telling me about Rosemary Taylor (founder of nurseries, orphanages and adoption via FCVN, then FFAC during the war) and how her and her staff's heroic efforts gave the children hope and a new life. And I remember on my anniversary day (now called "gotcha day") we would drive 20 mins to a Vietnamese restaurant in honor of me and where I came from.I also remember not really being interested! Oops. Seriously, though, I was a kid and as far back as I could remember I lived in the U.S. (don't forget I came over at 4 mos.). I was an American. I understood why she was doing it, but then it seemed silly to me. And hearing about another country felt like extra work, another subject to study. No thanks. I was more interested in playing and gymnastics and anything else that was fun! Typical kid, right?
I feel a little guilty about it now, but I've always acknowledge she did her diligence to keep me in touch with who I am and where I came from. My past, my nationality, and the first few months of my life are some of the many things that make me, me. You can't (and shouldn't) try to ignore it—which I tried to do during so much of my childhood. Not in a defiant way, but just in a no-thanks-i'd-rather-be-playing-hide-and-seek sorta way. I really just wanted to feel "normal", not special or different.
Jump ahead a couple of years. I went to school in Denver, not far from where FCVN's US headquarters were located during the operation so long ago. She told me to look them up, maybe visit them because they are always excited to see how the children have grown up. I was still a little shy, and am embarrassed to admit, I didn't want to dwell on "being adopted". I guess I always thought it was because I was so young when I came over that it wasn't THAT important. Maybe if I was 3 or 5 or 10 when I arrived I'd feel more strongly connected? I didn't know. And unfortunately, I didn't stop to understand or appreciate how important it could have been to the organization that gave me and my family so much.
Again, fast forward a few more years. As I moved through my twenties, it FINALLY started to happen. I really began to develop a true interest in my origins and where I was from. I think, not coincidentally, this overlapped the time in my life when I started to become more confidant and sure of myself, both strengths and weaknesses. I was basically just less self-conscious; and ironically, didn't want to fit in as much as I now wanted to be different than everyone else. (haha).
Now that I was ready in my own time, I wanted to learn, experience and understand my background and history. In the back of my mind I had always planned to return to Vietnam. Why wouldn't I? It just seemed like something unreachable for so long. Time, money, time... money. And, I didn't want to go for only a week, I wanted to have enough time to truly experience as much as I could in the least touristy way I could manage.
Then it happened. One night I just decided the time was now! I talked to my then-boyfriend (now husband) and told him I wanted to volunteer at an orphanage— preferably VN, but definitely somewhere in Asia. I was fortunate to find a program in VN and I went for just under four months. It took a lot of planning and a wonderful guy to understand the need for me to go and to go for so long.
In the end, it was without a doubt the best thing I could have done. Not only did I get to work with the children, I was able to gain a wonderful understanding of the people and the culture in VN. In case you were wondering, I fell in love with everything and everyone there. The people have a sense of pride, generosity and humility that seems a rare combination in the States. The land is beautiful, the culture is fantastic and the work and children touched me profoundly. (If you are interested in reading about my time there, you can download my blog/journal from the link on the left).My time in VN was an opportunity for me to absorb my birth country at a rate and fashion that was right for me. I didn't have to see and do everything. I didn't have a desire to search for my birth-mother. I wanted to be with the children that I came to love so much and I wanted to talk with and understand the people I met. I did visit the two orphanages we knew I had once been, one in Saigon that is no longer there (but that trip was an amazing story within itself), and one in Can Tho. I was good with all of it, and again for me that was just right.
Finally after 30 years, I fully accept—not necessarily accept actually, I think appreciate is a better word — I fully appreciate my Vietnamese origins and my American upbringing that have combined to create the perfect balance of who I am. It took a long time but I now identify with Vietnam in a way I don't think I was ready for when I was younger.
So, what I wanted to share with APs and PAPs is it is important to share and celebrate your child's culture, even when they are young. And there's no need to worry if it doesn't seem like it's sinking in. It is. When his or her curiosity gets the better of them, they will realize they already have more answers than they ever realized.
