happy birthday

my adopted mom's birthday was last month. i'm not too much into birthdays probably because accuracy of my birth date has been in question my whole life. of course i wish my friends and family 'happy birthday' but that's about it.

so, i called my adopted mother to wish her a happy birthday (which if you knew me is a HUGE thing - firstly because i remembered her birthday at all - i am quite terrible at remembering things like that - and secondly because, well, we don't really get along too well, so the idea of calling her is unsettling).

as soon as she answered the phone she went ON AND ON about what my (adopted) brother and sister did for her birthday. my sister drove 6 hours from alameda with her husband and son and helped set up her birthday present (a giant mac computer - a gift from her husband). my brother cooked dinner for her and her friends and family. and me, i just called...

the second i got off the phone, i broke down. angry at my adopted mother for trying to make me feel guilty for not making her birthday a production like my siblings did. angry that she was so fucking insensitive not to realize i might just have issues with helping (especially) her celebrate her very moment of birth. overwhelmed with a feeling of loneliness and resentment.

my birthdays are getting harder to celebrate every year. every year my husband insists on celebrating. every year friends insist on 'grabbing a drink'. and with each year that passes, my birth parents (if they are still alive) are also aging, one year closer to death. and i have one less year to find where and who i came from, one less year to find out my real birthday.

maybe after all i really do care about birthdays.

a new opportunity

i've been looking for a job the past few months without much luck or success.  people aren't hiring and if they are, they want you for pennies on the dollar.  it actually 'pays' to be young and inexperienced in this market - i'm pretty sure i was overqualified for the last job i was turned down from.  

anyway, i applied to this one job on a whim.  it wasn't my 'dream job' but in this economy, any job is a 'dream job' i suppose.  and, at the very least, it's related to my career.  so, the company responded instantaneously to my application.  and after a series of interviews spanning two weeks and more than 10 hours, i've finally been offered the job.  

i suppose i would be crazy not to accept the position.  

working would allow my husband and i to more easily afford a house.  

it would potentially help me feel better connected to the community.  

and it would keep my mind and body occupied.

i've found that left to my own devices, my mind goes to the 'dark places' and forces me to confront all the things i've neglected over the years, especially the things related to my adoption.  these 'dark places' are so scary i've gone to great lengths to avoid them, mostly through over-scheduling myself with work (even work that sucks cause it's easier to be unhappy with a job than have to deal with anything 'real').  

i've been without a 'real job' for 7 months.  the 'dark places' are still there, but they're no longer pitch black or thick as tar.  

they're more gray and fluid and not nearly as scary. 

i'm no longer afraid to be unemployed or without a crazy schedule.

i'm no longer afraid of the quiet and still places.  

the 'old me' would have jumped on the job - it's no wonder i've had so many bad ones...  

this 'new me' can take the time to see the job as more than just filled time and space.  

granted, the crap economy will likely factor in my decision, but at least it's not about running from myself. 

easter

it's easter sunday and i had to work this morning as a host/wine shop person.  i spotted way more asian people today that i've seen in the past few months collectively, so the hope i got from seeing them makes us for having to work on a holiday (though my husband is working 18+ hours today, so i wasn't exactly busy anyhow).

anyway, one of these 'spotted' asians entered with five caucasians.  the group was told by a fellow host their table was being set so they would have to wait a couple of minutes.  there were four of us working at the host station (i was the only asian)- the asian guy turns to me (not the other host who had initially checked him in), stares me down for a second and asks, 'don't you know who i am?' and then abruptly turns his back to me to share with his friends just loud enough for me to hear, 'i don't make action films for nothing.  don't they know who i am?'.

i had no clue who this guy was.  i didn't really care.  i don't give a shit if you're some hot shot actor, producer, or just crazy rich.  in my perfect world, i would get to treat everyone the same. but in the hospitality industry, VIP's exist...so, the reservation, made via opentable, said nothing about him. the reservation was not even made under his name.  i relayed this incident to the floor managers and one of them commented that it sounded like 'reverse' racism, which she went on to say is the worst and most prevalent kind.  i don't disagree.  i felt like i was being held to a different standard because he was some famous asian person and i was asian, so (obviously) i should know who he is.  

anyway, the manager approached his table and said, 'you look familiar.  have i seen you in something?' - subtle, no?  he responded that he worked on 'the tuxedo'.  after googling a few obvious choices from the films credits, we discovered he does the choreography for all the jackie chan movies. how the heck would i know that???!!?  i'm not an avid action film viewer. sure, if he were jackie chan, i would have recognized him - i do watch enough tv/movies to have seen a jackie chan movie promo.  but the choreographer? whatever...and who the heck toots his own horn in such a rude way - on freaking EASTER SUNDAY no less!  

it gets even better.  the table stayed for almost 3 hours (an eternity really) and on their way out, one of the friends said, 'that's the movie star'.  no wonder the guy's ego is so inflated...

*****

so, there was another asian incident during brunch today.  a stick thin 'fierce' looking asian came in with her older caucasian boyfriend.  she was wearing platform black stilettos, a tight fitting white mini mini mini dress, big dark sunglasses, an asymmetrical bob, and carrying a large louis vuitton bag.  when we greeted her at the host stand, she did not give any sign that she had even seen or heard us.  we were outright ignored.  she 'reacted' the same way when we bid her adieu. later, my husband who works in the kitchen, asked me if i'd seen her.  he said all the waiters and bussers were talking about her and how hot she was.  

...that's just what asian women need - a person like her to perpetuate the stereotype of asian women as 'exotic' arm candy...  

*****  

for the record, there were several asian guests who were all very polite and friendly with normal sized egos.  thank goodness for them.

lay's commercial - am i reading too much into it?

actually, i'm pretty sure i am.  so please just bear with me as i read too much into an american junk food commercial.

living in the 'country' has made me hyperaware of my color. 

the commercial shows a yellow blob character walking through town looking sad as everyone else around him is green and happy.  anyway, the blob passes by a blue blob that is also sad. when they overlap, they turn green just like all the other blobs.  yes, it's a lesson in primary color mixing and a social commentary (singles are sad, couples are happy - in lay's case chips and dip individually are sad but together they're happy and green...), but i saw it as a racial commentary as well. i couldn't help it.  i'm yellow just like the sad yellow blob (and everyone around me is white).  basically, if you look different, you'll be unhappy.  

for the record i'm not unhappy because i look different.  as i get older, i'm actually learning to accept and even embrace my physical self .

eta:  i forgot the craziest part of the commercial.  the yellow blob guy goes into a paint shop and paints himself green!  he's happy for a second, but then the paint falls off and he's sad again. (i know i've tried to 'paint' myself a different color - it didn't work too well for me either). 

then he finds the blue guy...

feeling asian in napa?

i went to the city yesterday to run some errands, indulged in some yummy asian food on clement street, and bought some gochoojang at the korean market (i'm not a super fan of korean food but i do like the spicy pepper paste).  i saw hundreds of asian people in the few short hours i was there.  it was great. but at the same time, it wasn't.

i've been complaining to friends and family that i'm 'lucky' to see one other asian a day up here in napa.  and, to be surrounded by asian people again in the city was like breathing a sigh a relief - i could blend in and wander the streets anonymously!  not one person did a double take or asked me about my english.  it was a 'luxury' i've been living without the last 6 months.

but, at the same time, being around all those asian people while they were buying their asian groceries and speaking their native languages made me realize just how un-asian i am.  and, conversely, living in napa has strangely made me feel more asian that i really am...living surrounded by white people i suppose does that to a yellow girl...

i felt this when i first travelled in korea a few years ago.  all at once, i was in a sea of people who looked just like me.  and, all at once i was surrounded by people with whom i had nothing in common.  i didn't share their language, their culture, their food, their fashion sense - nothing.  i wasn't too surprised to feel that way in korea, but i never imagined i would feel like that in california.

i am not alone!!!

i went to my first knitting group tonight.  i was a bit nervous as i had a not so savory experience at the local yarn shop a couple of months ago...the women knitting in the shop and the woman who owned the shop weren't very welcoming to put it lightly..

anyway, everyone was very friendly  and i was instantly relieved to see two hispanic women in the group (the rest were white) as the 'world' i live in here seems to be 99.9% white.  one of these hispanic women asked me how i liked napa.  i told the group that i liked the easy parking, not getting parking tickets, the lack of traffic, and the wide aisles in the grocery markets. but, i also told them i was still adjusting to the lack of cultural diversity...before i could say another word, the woman who asked me the question interjected, 'napa is very white'.  i wanted to jump up and hug her for saying that.

ever since we moved here, every white person who has asked me how i like napa (and who has received essentially the same reply i gave at the knitting group tonight) has vehemently denied the lack of diversity.  one woman even went so far as to say she knew a TON of asians and that i just wasn't hanging out at the right spots.  she also added that they were 'punk rock, gang bangers'...i have yet to see any 'punk rock, gang banger' asians here or anywhere for that matter, but again i suppose i'm not hanging out at the right spots.

so, you can imagine i've been wondering if i've been imagining the lack of diversity.  most any place will be less diverse than the city, and maybe napa is diverse for a city its size.  and, maybe i'm just being overly critical/sensitive as i've lived in major cities for the last decade.  well, googling 'napa demographics' quantifies and supports my observations.  and, for a hispanic woman (who is a member of the second largest racial group in napa) to say 'napa is very white' says something.    

it's not like i had exclusively asian friends or only hung out at asian establishments when i lived in the city.  i guess i miss being able to wander the city and run my errands, blending anonymously into the people around me.  and, now more than ever before i feel like a true minority.  i suppose it wouldn't be so bad without the stares and people questioning my ability to speak english, but even so, i wonder if i'll ever feel comfortable enough to call napa (or anywhere else) my 'home'.

fyi-according to the 2006 census 2.71% of napa is asian and 90.11% white.

     -according to the 2007 census 33.1% of san francisco is asian and 45% white.

"you have to know the past to understand the present" - dr. carl sagan

 the merriam-webster dictionary defines survivor as:

1.  to remain alive or in existence : live on

2.  to continue to function or prosper

3.  to continue to exist or live after...

4.  to continue to prosper or live despite...

over the years, people have told me repeatedly that i am a 'survivor', that i'm stronger than i think, that my life has meaning and purpose (or else i'd be dead or still living in korea - as if my life wouldn't have purpose or meaning if i wasn't adopted...this pisses me off more than anything, but that's another post altogether).

so, i guess i am a survivor according to (at least) definitions 1 and 2.  

i am alive.  

i exist.  

i function. 

but what about 3 and 4?  

i exist and live after/despite the traumatic experience of being transnationally/culturally/racially adopted.  but i have no knowledge of the circumstances of that adoption.  

i've read several scientifically based reports that support the idea that our minds protect ourselves from trauma - that our minds will effectively hide the truth from us so that we will not remember a traumatic event at all or will only remember portions (e.g. childhood abuse, rape, etc.) because if we did remember all the gory details, we wouldn't be able to cope (or survive).  the fact that i can't remember anything about the first five years of my life fascinates me.  ive read that other adoptees have no memories of their lives prior to adoption, even those who were adopted at an older age - 7, 8, or even 9 years old.  was it all so traumatic that our memories have been wiped clean?  

so, since i am a survivor of adoption, what is my prognosis for healing?  if i don't exactly know what is inflicting my pain, how can i effectively get better?  if my parents abandoned me, then i'd be dealing with abandonment issues.  but what if they died? then i'd be dealing with grief.  

and, since they are for all intents and purposes 'dead' to me, aren't i dealing with grief regardless??  and, what if i was 'sold' - really sold like so many children trafficked around the world, then i'd be dealing with a whole other set of trauma.  there is an abyss of possibilities. 

i guess my point is, since i have no way of really knowing specifically what it is i'm a survivor of, i'm at a loss of how to focus my healing and so i find myself exploring any and all possibilities. it's probably not the healthiest thing to do, but if a man were rolled into an e.r., only able to tell the nurses and doctors that he was in pain with no visual injuries, and he couldn't remember anything about how he got there or even his medical history, the e.r. staff would have to run a battery of tests to see what was going on inside.  right?  in a similar way, i suppose i'm running those tests/trying to treat possible ailments as best i can, though my test results are inconclusive.  if only i could go to an e.r., if only my pain, my diagnosis could be so cut and dry...

i want to know my past.  

i want to understand the present.  

i am not clinging to my past, just trying to know it.  it's a basic human right, no? 

i want to know my date of birth.  

i want to know who i was born to. 

i want to know where i was born.  

i want to know the name given to me at birth.

i want to know if my family loved me.  

i want to know how it was i came to live halfway around the world from where i started life.  

i want to know the things (i cannot remember) that contributed to the person i am today.  

is that too much to ask?

maybe it was the neuroblastoma...

one of the things i struggle with is the fact that i have no memory of my life before the age of 5 years.  okay, i do have one memory.  it's of standing in a wide open 'shower' while someone poured ice cold buckets of water over my head.  i don't know if this is true or a figment of my imagination, but it seems to me a kid might remember a thing like that.

the other thing that bothers me greatly is not having a family health history to draw upon. sure, it makes filling out paperwork at the doctor's office much faster, but it would be nice to know if my family has a history of breast cancer or heart disease or mental illness or...

for christmas, my husband ordered a genetic testing kit for me.  for most people, this sort of gift might seem strange (unless you were really into genetics or had some extra money lying around and just wanted to know - these kits aren't cheap...).  but, for me it's an opportunity to peek into my possible past/family history and future with 79 test results.

anyway, i just got my results back and it turns out i have a gene marker that says i am at increased risk for neuroblastoma, a rare but curable cancer mostly found in children under the age of 5 years.  

when i was adopted, i had very little hair.  i had stubble.  my adopted parents told me they shaved all the kid's heads to prevent the spread of lice.  that's what the orphanage told them. over the last few years, i've met several adoptees who were adopted at an older age (e.g. old enough to have hair) through the same adoption agency.  none of them had shaved heads.  my little sister, who was adopted at the same time didn't have a shaved head either.  i had accepted the lice explanation my whole life, but after reading about neuroblastoma, my mind has opened to the possibility of cancer.

if i think about it, it's plausible.  my parents couldn't afford to pay for medical treatment, so they put me in an orphanage where they knew i might have a better chance of survival.  my adopted mother told me just a couple years ago there was a church in the south (in the states) that sponsored my sister and i, sending money, clothes, etc.  maybe this money went to pay for medical treatment!??!  and, the reason i wouldn't know about the cancer was because kids with a history of cancer are not adoptable, but kids with curable cancer who've been treated are (just don't tell anyone - what would be the point?  besides, i've heard too many stories of adoption agencies lying about the age, health, etc. of a child just to sell them faster - um, i mean adopt them out to lovely families...).  

the last piece of the puzzle that fits is that my medical report from the orphanage states that i had 'old scars'.  i still have them.  it makes me sad every time i see them, not knowing where they came from, not having a mother who can tell me the story of how i got them.

anyway, i know the chances of my cancer story being true are pretty slim, but i suppose that's the point.  anything could have happened.  something as simple as losing my mother in a busy marketplace.  or something as complicated as cancer.  i live every day with the history of the first five years of my life in my body.  i know i carry memories of those years somewhere - it kills me that i can't find them... 

the 'good' news is that i have the 'long life' gene and a marker that puts me at substantially lower risk for developing bipolar disorder.  my chances of living to 100 years is higher than the average person, so chances are good i have a lot of history yet to write in this body of mine and a sane mind to remember with.

seriously??

my mother called me the other day to tell me my 'cousin' (not really a cousin but a close friend of the family) is thinking about adopting two children from africa which didn't surprise me as she has often waxed poetic about how great it would be to have black children...  

my 'cousin' has blonde hair and blue eyes, as does her husband and their biological sons.  this is not where i have the issue (though i'm not a big supporter of transnational/racial adoptions).  i have a huge issue with her political and religious views.  growing up, we spent nearly every weekend together.  and, although we seemed to get along just fine, i never felt safe or close to her as she constantly said things like, 'you're so lucky god saved you from your life in korea' and 'i'm sure you would have ended up a diseased prostitute, living on the street if your parents didn't save you'.  i thought she might have grown/educated herself out of these views, but unfortunately she hasn't.  i spoke to her a few months ago and was appalled when she mentioned how lucky i was to find a great husband and that i never would have found that in korea as i would have been 'dead or at best a diseased prostitute, living on the street'.  i kid you not.  she's my age, has two small children, wants to adopt two children of african descent, and still to this day believes my fate was sealed had i remained in korea.

so, i told my mother about my cousin's views and how i didn't think she was a good candidate to adopt (not even bringing up her dismal financial situation...not that you have to we wealthy to adopt, but let's face it, adoption is a business - and, quite frankly, her family is one paycheck away from being homeless). 

anyway, when i told her about the 'diseased prostitute' and 'being saved' comments and now nobody should ever say that to anybody EVER, she actually agreed.  WILD!!!

but THEN not one minute later she said, 'no, i don't think you would have ended up a diseased prostitute on the streets, but maybe if you were from thailand'.  WHOA!!!  

the second i think i've made some progress with my mother, she takes a million steps backwards...with all the resources out there for adoptive parents, she is still living in the dark ages.    

maybe it was the tb!?!?

i just finished reading 'once they hear my name', a compilation of interview/memoirs of korean american adoptees.  The very last adoptee in the book was adopted when she was six or seven years old and is very grateful (how i loathe that word...) to have been adopted as she had tuberculosis and presumed her birth family couldn't afford to pay the medical bills (she has memories of living in a humble hut overlooking rice fields).  in the orphanage, with the financial support of her adopted family, she was treated for the tb and was nursed back to health before being sent to live with them.  

this got me thinking...i'm sure it's not the healthiest thing to do, but i'm sure i'm not the only adoptee who wonders why she was abandoned.  there are no notes in my file about the circumstances of my relinquishment into the orphanage system in korea.  the only bit of information alludes to a police station.  i was adopted at the age of 5 years with my (supposed) biological sister (she was 2 years old).  it's hard to imagine why our parents would give us up after years of parenting.  i couldn't imagine giving up my four year old dog let alone a child.  i've often imagined they must have been in a horrible accident and died.  or maybe our father left our mother and she could no longer care for us.  or maybe we're not really sisters, but half sisters (we're not alike at all) and when our father discovered he did not father the youngest child, he left.  i don't know.  there are endless possibilities as to what could have happened. chances are good, i will never know.

but reading this adoptee's profile/story got me thinking about just one more possibility. my sister had tb.  it's noted on her intake papers from the orphanage.  i remember her having to take medicine for a long time when we went to live with our adopted family.  maybe our family was so poor they couldn't pay for her medical treatment?  and maybe they thought it would be best to keep us together??  or maybe they tried to pay her bills, ran out of money and couldn't afford to keep either one of us...

why oh why were we abandoned!??!?!  

maybe it was the tb...

racism??

i try really hard to see the best in people, to imagine their best intentions, but try as i may it's very hard to ignore something that can be construed as racism.  and, to be honest, i'm becoming painfully aware of it in my new (predominantly caucasian) city of residence.  

i'm filling in at my husband's place of work for someone while they're on vacation.  my official job is working in the restaurant's wine shop, but i also share hostess duties when it gets busy. so, last night was my first busy night, and i got a front seat view of how the hostess and management treat their guests.  

it's no surprise that people up here routinely run late for their reservations (they take the 'laid back' california lifestyle to a whole new level...).  so, a lot of parties arrived all at once, forcing people's reservations to be pushed back by 10-15 minutes.  realizing we were running late, one of the managers who had been working the hostess station all night offered to buy drinks for several parties as soon as they arrived.  there was one party, though, that did not get get this offer (and had to wait a full 20 minutes past their reservation time for their table, at least five minutes longer than anyone else...open table's detailed 'arrival' and 'seated' time supports this finding).

the party that missed out on a comped round of drinks was asian.  and, all the other waiting parties (with free cocktails in hand) were caucasian.  i hate it when people say asian people are 'the other white meat' as if we never face any kind of discrimination.  to make matters worse, the asian party's table was cleared minutes after they arrived.  apparently, the manager and hostess (both caucasian) were waiting for the table to be set before seating them.  i realize i don't have a lot of foh experience, but i have worked in the hospitality industry long enough to know:

a.  it's not nice to keep people waiting, especially when they have a reservation

b.  if you must keep them waiting, offer them something...anything

c.  if they do have to wait, then what they're waiting for better be worth it

d. if you're a manager, then you should manage.  the manager should have made sure the table was set up asap by one of her floor staff, and if for some reason they were all busy, then she should have taken the task upon herself (honestly, she had the time...and if they had been 'vip', i'm sure she would have).

132 people dined last night.  several more were turned away at the door due to lack of available tables.  of all these people, only two parties were asian (both with reservations).  the rest were caucasian.  the first asian party had early reservations, so seating them wasn't an issue.  the second party arrived 5 minutes early and ended up waiting 20 minutes past their reservation time.  

i thought about this all last night, double checking the open table time stats, trying to figure out why this asian party was made to wait without any commendations offered for their long wait. try as i may to find another explanation (though i suppose i can't be totally objective), my mind keeps coming back to the r word - racism...

searching

i have been grappling with the idea of starting a formal birth parent search for several years.  i know i've always wanted to find them, but something has kept me from looking - probably fear. fear of finding a truth i don't want to know, fear of being rejected by them, fear of not having anything in common with them, fear of discovering i don't have the support system i need to get through it all.

this whole 'dealing with my status as a korean adoptee' has been completely overwhelming.  i don't know if this is true for other adoptees, but i feel like i can only deal with my issues for short periods of time because it would be too much to take on all at once - like a damn holding back a raging river.  if you open it all at once, all the potential energy in the river could have devastating effects on the nearby land.  but, if you open it just a little and slowly let the water flow through, it will be okay.  

only i can't seem to find that 'open just a little' switch.  

i have only two switches - open and closed.  

i open the dam and find myself drowning and when i can't take anymore, i close it up until i've recovered enough to open it once more.  

anyway, i know i have a lot of water yet to let through the dam but lately the waters seem to have changed a little.  i feel stronger somehow and think i'm finally ready to start my search. 

where the wine lives

my husband and i moved to napa last october.  we were excited to leave the din of the city and embrace the wide open spaces and natural vistas wine country has to offer.  wine country is every bit as beautiful as we expected it to be, though a few things have taken me by surprise.

as someone who has lived her adult life in urban environments, i wasn't hesitant to move to wine country.  i mean, what could change so much just one hour outside of the city? (aside from the scenery, population, and the lack of 'ethnic' food restaurants...oh how i need some good thai food and maybe a steamed pork bun).

turns out a lot can change in one hour.  

having lived in a city where i saw dozens of asian people daily, i realize i miss seeing those faces.  i miss blending into the background.  i miss people taking for granted that english is my first language.  now, i'm 'lucky' to see one asian face in a sea of caucasian and latino ones.  and, when i do see that face, i often get a surprised look and a smile that seems to say, 'whoa!  another asian person!! welcome to the club'.  

it's almost like i'm back in the town i grew up in (it was also predominantly caucasian and latino due to the local ag biz), but this time i'm so much more aware of who i am and how the world sees me.  when i was little, like so many transracial/transnational adoptees, i really didn't see myself as different from my adopted caucasian family.  my whole world was white, so i must have been white, too.  sounds funny now - obviously i knew on some level i was different.  i mean, kids teased me ALL THE TIME about my slanty eyes, my skin color, and small size, even spewing (what they thought to be) asian sounding words at me, and yet i continued to convince myself i was white and did everything possible to fit in.    

anyway, up here 'where the wine lives', people see me as a foreigner.  they speak to me slowly, using lots of hand gestures, making sure i see their faces and understand what they are saying.  a few have even been so brazen to ask if i speak english.  in the city, i could wander free as an anonymous person, but here, i feel eyes on me everywhere i go.  i know i don't look like the average napa resident - i stick out.  

i get it.  

but i don't have to like it.

i wonder if i'll ever get used to it...