Adopted, but not Adapted?
It seems that every decade in the United States, there is a new "hot spot" to adopt children from. According to the US Department of State website:
(http://www.travel.sta te.gov/family/adoption/stats/s tats_451.html)
Based on the number of visas issued to orphans-based on country, and sorted by year as far back as 1990-the trends are obvious. During most of the '90s Korea, Russia, and China competed for the top of the list. China continues to be the country of choice for International adoptions. Although, in 2006 there was a drop in the growth trend of adoption for all three countries, and a rise in Guatemala and Ethiopia.
Don't get me wrong, I think adoption is typically a win-win situation for couples who desperately want to be parents, and parents who are desperately trying to find good homes for their children. As an adopted child myself, I appreciate the tremendous opportunity attached to the love of my adoptive family. I'm an American citizen with all the bells and whistles that include a formal education, freedom of religion, and liberty to pursue happiness. I've also never had to experience the turmoil of poverty, or political uncertainty. I can honestly say that-on an economic and social level-my life is a testament to all the hopes and dreams, I imagine, my birth-parents had when they put me up for adoption.
My adoptive parents always made me feel like a natural member of the family-at least on the subject of my ethnicity. In fact, the subject of my adoption was never really discussed in great detail. My parents may not have been responsible for my birth, but they were certainly active participants in my life. I never questioned their acceptance of me as their child, nor did I ever question accepting them as my parents. This feeling of acceptance included my extended family as well. There was no conflict with domestic integration in my household.
I've never felt the urge to seek out my biological parents. Based on my conversations with other adoptees there appears to be three main schools of philosophy when it comes to birth parents. You need to find them, you don't want to find them, or you really don't think about it enough to care either way. I fall into the later category. I don't feel any elation or condemnation when I think about my biological parents.
Under the best circumstances, and with all the positive benefits of being a child of cross-cultural adoption, it made me start to wonder. Why is there a part of me that has always
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