The Way I Am - Final Draft

The Way I am 

By Kira Plumer

            Being adopted changed everything about me.  I grew up in a small multiracial family.  I have white parents and two older, white siblings.  My younger brother and I were both adopted when we were infants.  My younger brother is black and was born in Arkansas, while I was born in Sungnam city in South Korea and was then in foster care for about eleven months in Seoul before I came to the United States.

Me as a baby 1994

            My family continues to show me how wonderful growing up in a multiracial family can be.  When I was a child, I did not think twice about it.  But when I was a young teenager, it was difficult to think about. I wanted to understand why I was adopted. I felt like my family was odd and not like other, more ordinary families.  I also had to deal with my parent’s separation and not really knowing how to process the whole situation.  But now that I am an adult, I can appreciate what my family has given me and what I have given back to them.  I want to share my positive experience about being adopted.  I’m sick of how negative people can be towards it.  Even now as an adult, I’m constantly reminded how my family and the way I was raised contributes to my life positively.  

My first birthday 1995

            When I was young, my adoption wasn’t on my radar. I was aware I had been adopted because my parents did not hide it from me.  I just didn’t think about it.  I was more interested in playing with my little brother, Joe, outside on the play set in the backyard.  I was a home-schooled kid preoccupied with having fun and learning new things about this big world.  Everyone looked the same to me.  Everyone was a friend to me.  It wasn’t hard for me to make friends.  Whenever my mother (a recent single mother raising four kids) took me and my other sibs to a homeschooling group get-together, I always wanted to play with the kids who came.  The kids that I played with didn’t appear to notice how our family was different.  Everything was so simple to us. 

           But after I grew up a little, when I reached 10 to 13-years-old, other kids did start to ask questions.  Some would ask, “Why do you look different than your parents?” or, “Is it different having a family like that?”  I would just tell them no and shrugged.  I didn’t really have any answers. But those questions started to spark my attention and led me to realize how my family looked towards others.  I thought to myself, “Does our family look weird?  Am I different?”  As I searched for information about adoptees, I stumbled upon an article by Jaime Cone.  She talked about when she was a child, other kids came to her and asked questions but weren’t able to relate to her situation.  She wrote, “…by the time I was in elementary school, being adopted hardly seemed worth mentioning. Even so, when a classmate and I came across a book called ‘Why Was I Adopted?’ one day during reading time, I said to him happily, ‘I’m adopted!’ ‘No you’re not,’ he replied. ‘You’re lying’” (Cone, 2012). I can relate to Jaime because I’ve had to deal with these questions and statements as well.  And when you hear them, you don’t know what to do or say back.

Joe, mom, and I at Glen Helen State Park 2009

        When I was about 11 or 12-years-old, I started to wonder about my birth parents.  When I started asking my mom about why I was adopted, she told me that she would tell me whatever I wanted to know.  We had limited information because it was a closed adoption, but she kept all the files and papers that were given to her in a plastic box in her closet.  One day I asked my mother if we had any information about my birth parents.  So she took me into her room and took out the box.  I laid on her bed while she pulled out all the adoption information for me to look at.  It had papers about me being in foster care in Seoul, my birth certificate, my baby passport, and much more.  One of the papers that was in the box contained information about my biological parents.  It read that my birth mother was 5’4”, had a large mouth, had brown eyes and that she worked at a sewing factory. It did not have any information about my birth father’s characteristics.  Everything was very vague.  I didn’t have any photographs of my biological parents either.  It was just a taste of information for me to stew on. I thought it was interesting.  And that is when I became more aware about being adopted. 

            I continued to think about how our family looked to others.  I became self-conscious about how our family appeared in public, always wondering if people were saying crude comments behind our backs.  I don’t recall this moment happening, but my mother once told me when we all went to the zoo, a lady came up to her and asked a question.  She asked my mother if she was leading a theater group.  My older sister about maybe 15-years-old, my brother 12, I was 9, and my little brother was still in a stroller.  My mother, recently divorced, never had to deal with these kinds of ignorant questions when my father was around.  When there were two parents around, people assumed that all of us were a family.  Or at least didn’t have the nerve to come up to us and ask us if we were some theater group.  When I was a bit older, I was eating breakfast with my dad, step mom, and little brother at a restaurant called the Golden Nugget.  We were sitting at a round table all eating happily.  Then this older couple came over and this man asked my father if we were exchange students.  My dad just said, “No. These are my kids.”  When these moments happened to us, it made me think that everyone thought these kinds of things about us.

            The day I started becoming even more self-consciences was when I was hanging out with my older brother, Lee, in his bedroom.  I was about 15-years-old at the time.  My mother came in the room and told Lee and I that Joe finally asked if there was a picture of his birthparents.  She told us that she was preparing for this day and got the photo out and showed him.  She said he looked at it and just said okay and went back to his own business.  She had the photo in her hand and asked if we wanted to see it.  And so I took it from her and looked at the photo.  The photo had a woman lying on a hospital bed with a big man standing next to her.  The photo was taken after Joe was born.  I examined the picture and noticed that the parents had similar characteristics as Joe.  The mom had the same nose as Joe did and the father had the same eyes.  I gave it back to my mom while holding back tears.  And then I couldn’t take it and started crying.  I knew I didn’t have any photos of my birth parents.  I hated to say it but I was extremely jealous of the photo.  I thought it wasn’t fair he had a photo of his birthparents and I didn’t.  I didn’t understand or how to process the whole situation. 

            One time during middle school, I had to deal with this boy in high school that I would see in the hallways occasionally.  He and his family were Laotian Americans.  One day, some how, he found out I was adopted and had white parents.  He would come up to me, point, and say, “You have white parents!” and then laugh.  I would just laugh back and pretend it didn’t bother me.  But I also didn’t know how to respond to what he had said.  How could I respond to that?  I started to think that everyone thought it was funny that I was adopted.

            Another thing about my family—my parents got divorced when I was about 8-years-old.  We moved to Beavercreek Ohio from California because my father had taken a job there.  After moving in, my mother and two older sibs went back to California for a few days for a business trip.  Joe and I stayed in Ohio with my dad until they got back.  I remember seeing my dad looking stressed and going on a lot of random errands for furniture.  Joe and me came along and were running around the store, rough housing.  Our father snapped at us and told us to settle down.  It was the first time he got mad in a while.  I was really upset and embarrassed.  We went back to the apartment and my dad told us to grab our pillows.  I asked him why and he replied by saying it was a surprise.  That was when he took us to his new apartment.  It was new and clean.  It had a kitchen, a living room, and one bedroom.  My younger brother being four was very excited about the whole situation.  I didn’t know what to say.  I was confused about the one bed in the whole apartment.  I acted excited like my younger brother.  Trying to act like everything was normal.  What I didn’t know was that this was the way my father told us he and my mother were getting a divorce.  My mother, being in California, had no recollection of this happening.  So when she and my older siblings got back home, that was when my dad told all the kids what was happening. One of the consequences of my father leaving was that I became more insecure about my family as a teenager.  Having divorced parents and being adopted?  I thought our family was the only family in the world like this. 

            But as I continued to grow up, I became aware how stupid I was for feeling this way towards my family.  I felt childish.  I still feel childish for feeling that way when I was young.  I realize that I have had bad days and amazing ones too.  I have had days that were the worst, but I have also had the best days that I would never want to replace.  Now that I am older, I try to make each day count.  I say this because people should be more thankful for what they have. 

            The reason I am saying this is because adoption can be seen as a negative thing.  When people ask me why I was adopted, sometimes I feel like they expect a negative response.  I simply say that my birthparents couldn’t take care of me.  But I always say that I’m in a much better place now.  I never forget to say that.  It’s because I am.  The reason why I am here today is because my birth mother became pregnant when she was in her early twenties.  My birth father left, which made raising a child difficult, especially in South Korea.  And that is the whole story.  Nothing dramatic.  In fact, if I were back in Korea, I am sure that I wouldn’t be in the position I am in now.  I wouldn’t be in college studying what I love (photography), have a big family that I love, have the friends I have now—the list goes on. 

Siblings and cousins 2005

            All the negative events that happened in my life changed the way I am today for the better.  Even with my parent’s separation.  For the last few years before I left for college, I would visit my father every other weekend.  And after every weekend, I would come home and be an emotional wreck for reasons no one should ever have to go through.  But after every time I came back, I was a little stronger.  And that happens every time I over come any situation.  I am pushed down, but when I get back up, I have a stronger balance.   

            For the people who think adoption and divorce are bad situations.  It’s not always a negative thing!  Yes, people can go through it and feel like they can barely survive.  But when it’s over, you grow from it.  It’s hard, I know.  But the more you go through it, the more of a strong and independent person you become.   I am talking about this because, while I was researching for this paper, I searched for adoption stories written by adoptees.  80% of the information I found was negative.  I understand there are kids out there that have terrible experiences and possibly never find a home for themselves.  It’s an awful situation I would never wish upon anyone.  But for those who were placed in good homes and families, please, stop the complaining.  You are giving adoption a bad reputation.

            Out of the many negative articles, a friend of mine showed me an article that gave me hope.  The article is called “What an Adoptee Wants You to Know About Adoption” by Madeleine Melcher.  She discusses how people should view adoption.  She implies that being adopted doesn’t make us broken people.  She states, “Foster kids are not like the foster kids you see in the movies” (Melcher, 2015). She also talks about how she was raised by two parents who she will always love and care for.  She doesn’t have a huge urge to find her birthparents.  Why?  Because she knows who raised and took care of her during her whole life growing up.  This article gave me hope, knowing that not all adoptees are upset about their privileged lives.

Hannah, Lee and I in Athens 2014

        Now that I am an adult, I have learned that I would never want or ask for a different life.  I am so happy and thankful I am here today with my family and friends.  My mother has given each child in our family something different and special.  Each of us has had our own and unique experiences growing up.  My older sister and brother had two very different experiences and so have my younger brother and I.  We are also all interested in completely different things.  Hannah, my older sister, is interested in traveling the world and excavating ancient burial site, Lee is interested in speech-language pathology, Joe has a love for sports, and I have a passion for photography and the arts. We have all grown up as independent and strong individuals because of our mother who stuck with us. 

Family and cousins 2013

Works Cited

Cone, Jaime. "What Might Have Been." The New York Times. The New York Times, 18 Feb. 2012. Web. 27 Apr. 2015.

Melcher, Madeleine. "What an Adoptee Wants You to Know About Adoption." The Huffington Post. TheHuffingtonPost.com, 6 Apr. 2015. Web. 27 Apr. 2015.