Tsunami Babies: What Future For Them Abroad?
By: OpinionEditor's Note: Many Westerners are seeking to adopt children orphaned by the Asian tsunamis. PNS contributor Pueng Vongs questions the wisdom of bringing up children away from their birth cultures.
HUGE numbers of people from developed nations are seeking to adopt
orphans of Asian families wiped out by the recent tsunami disaster.
International adoption agencies have been overwhelmed with
inquiries from Little Rock to Paris on the possibility of adopting
what UNICEF estimates to be more than 30,000 children orphaned by
the waves that devastated coastal towns in Indonesia, Sri Lanka,
India, Thailand and other nations.
The growing enthusiasm to adopt children in need from Asian
countries has troubled me since a return trip from China a few
months ago.
A quarter of the way into the grueling 13-hour trans-Pacific
flight I awoke, stumbling around in the dark cabin, and my eyes
focused on dark-haired Asian toddlers resting on the laps of
long-legged Anglo parents.
The scene was repeated row after row throughout the plane.
I felt like I had stepped into some futuristic, sci-fi movie,
where the Asian babies had been cloned somehow.
I was bothered by the thought about the difficult path that lay
ahead for those kids.
I rubbed my eyes, sure this couldn't be real.
But indeed, more than one quarter of all babies adopted from
abroad by American families come from China, more than 6,800 a
year.
China leads all other countries in foreign adoptions to the
United States.
A good number of the Chinese babies come to San Francisco.
Caucasian parents toting Asian infants are common sights -- in
Golden Gate Park, at my neighbourhood café.
I also learned that a business associate had just adopted from
China and was planning to adopt another baby from there.
A woman in my meditation class also told me her sister had just
adopted.
When I think of the fate of the abandoned, predominantly Chinese
girls, casualties of the country's unbending one-child policy and
deep-seated patriarchal bias, it's not difficult to conclude that
these children would be better off in a new tract home in suburban
Walnut Creek rather than in a cold, institutionalized
orphanage.
Similarly, when I consider where tsunami orphans from Indonesia,
Sri Lanka, Thailand are most likely to find economic and
educational opportunities, all signs point westward.
But how does one weigh the consequences of being brought up
removed from the culture of your birth? A friend of mine, a black
Guatemalan adopted by German parents in the 1940s, says it was not
until she was well into her adulthood that she began to process the
volumes of inner cultural conflict and pain resulting from growing
up clearly set apart from her parents.
She says she struggled with the pain of finding a space within
the mostly white circles she lived in.
"This was especially difficult in the 40s, where civil rights
struggles were nowhere on the horizon," she says.
Girls of colour were expected to take up less room and be more
reserved than the white girls around her.
A Vietnamese American, orphaned after the Vietnam War and
adopted by Caucasian American parents, says that growing up she was
spoon-fed solely the culture of Middle America.
But a part of her subconsciously was always trying to reach back
to her Vietnamese origin.
Both my friends had to come to terms with the realization that
they may have been better off materially with their adoptive
parents, but that in many other ways they were not.
And whether by disaster or choice, separation from one's
original family or culture is never easy.
My own family made the choice to uproot us from our Thai
homeland when I was two.
Their decision was an economic one, and though I have certainly
reaped the benefits, I've also fought to find an identity in a
culture not my own.
I grew up first in a primarily black neighbourhood in Chicago
and later in a mostly white neighbourhood in Memphis.
Both experiences only further alienated me from a real sense of
myself.
I've gone through trials and numerous journeys to carve out a
place where I belong.
To be sure, there are many successful adoptions by parents who
are extremely sensitive to the cultural, racial and social hurdles
their children must face.
My Guatemalan friend says such successes must be treasured,
because finding a sense of identity for the Asian adoptee will
require much more than just taking them to Asian restaurants or
cultural summer camps, such as the ones for Korean adoptees from
the Korean War, or biracial Vietnamese Americans from the Vietnam
War.
This pattern of the dominant, affluent, America coming in to the
weakened, disaster-stricken, war-torn Asian country to rescue
children has been eras in the making, and creates a lopsided
balance of power.
And I wonder why the same amount of attention has not been paid
to needy orphans from war-ravaged, famine-stricken African
countries.
In the United States, nearly half of the 258,000 children
adopted internationally are Asian, according to a new Census
survey.
After the tsunami, Indonesia, Thailand and Sri Lanka have all
placed a moratorium on adoptions, partly out of concern that the
kids would be taken for use in the sex trade or for cheap
labour.
Some of these governments already have strict policies governing
foreign adoptions.
After the disaster, governments say they are still searching for
surviving family members and would first explore options to keep
the orphans with relatives or new families domestically.
The United States has also urged calm urging restraint in
adopting the children.
France and Canada, however, are looking for ways to streamline
the foreign adoption process.
But this matter will take much time to sort through.
Every time I see flaxen-haired parents holding a baby with
almond-shaped eyes in their arms I can't help but wonder about the
person he or she will grow up to be.
Will this child transcend cultural expectations and definitions
and be able to navigate freely between class, boundaries and
borders? Materially, the child will most likely have a better life,
but I also can't help but think at what costs.
- Pueng Vongs
* Vongs (pvongs @pacificnews.org) is a journalism fellow in
child and family policy, a program of the University of Maryland
and the Foundation for Child Development.
International adoption agencies have been overwhelmed with
inquiries from Little Rock to Paris on the possibility of adopting
what UNICEF estimates to be more than 30,000 children orphaned by
the waves that devastated coastal towns in Indonesia, Sri Lanka,
India, Thailand and other nations.The growing enthusiasm to adopt
children in need from Asian countries has troubled me since a
return trip from China a few months ago.A quarter of the way into
the grueling 13-hour trans-Pacific flight I awoke, stumbling around
in the dark cabin, and my eyes focused on dark-haired Asian
toddlers resting on the laps of long-legged Anglo parents.The scene
was repeated row after row throughout the plane.I felt like I had
stepped into some futuristic, sci-fi movie, where the Asian babies
had been cloned somehow.I was bothered by the thought about the
difficult path that lay ahead for those kids.I rubbed my eyes, sure
this couldn't be real.But indeed, more than one quarter of all
babies adopted from abroad by American families come from China,
more than 6,800 a year.China leads all other countries in foreign
adoptions to the United States.A good number of the Chinese babies
come to San Francisco.Caucasian parents toting Asian infants are
common sights -- in Golden Gate Park, at my neighbourhood
café.I also learned that a business associate had just
adopted from China and was planning to adopt another baby from
there.A woman in my meditation class also told me her sister had
just adopted.When I think of the fate of the abandoned,
predominantly Chinese girls, casualties of the country's unbending
one-child policy and deep-seated patriarchal bias, it's not
difficult to conclude that these children would be better off in a
new tract home in suburban Walnut Creek rather than in a cold,
institutionalized orphanage.Similarly, when I consider where
tsunami orphans from Indonesia, Sri Lanka, Thailand are most likely
to find economic and educational opportunities, all signs point
westward.But how does one weigh the consequences of being brought
up removed from the culture of your birth? A friend of mine, a
black Guatemalan adopted by German parents in the 1940s, says it
was not until she was well into her adulthood that she began to
process the volumes of inner cultural conflict and pain resulting
from growing up clearly set apart from her parents.She says she
struggled with the pain of finding a space within the mostly white
circles she lived in."This was especially difficult in the 40s,
where civil rights struggles were nowhere on the horizon," she
says.Girls of colour were expected to take up less room and be more
reserved than the white girls around her.A Vietnamese American,
orphaned after the Vietnam War and adopted by Caucasian American
parents, says that growing up she was spoon-fed solely the culture
of Middle America.But a part of her subconsciously was always
trying to reach back to her Vietnamese origin.Both my friends had
to come to terms with the realization that they may have been
better off materially with their adoptive parents, but that in many
other ways they were not.And whether by disaster or choice,
separation from one's original family or culture is never easy.My
own family made the choice to uproot us from our Thai homeland when
I was two.Their decision was an economic one, and though I have
certainly reaped the benefits, I've also fought to find an identity
in a culture not my own.I grew up first in a primarily black
neighbourhood in Chicago and later in a mostly white neighbourhood
in Memphis.Both experiences only further alienated me from a real
sense of myself.I've gone through trials and numerous journeys to
carve out a place where I belong.To be sure, there are many
successful adoptions by parents who are extremely sensitive to the
cultural, racial and social hurdles their children must face.My
Guatemalan friend says such successes must be treasured, because
finding a sense of identity for the Asian adoptee will require much
more than just taking them to Asian restaurants or cultural summer
camps, such as the ones for Korean adoptees from the Korean War, or
biracial Vietnamese Americans from the Vietnam War.This pattern of
the dominant, affluent, America coming in to the weakened,
disaster-stricken, war-torn Asian country to rescue children has
been eras in the making, and creates a lopsided balance of
power.And I wonder why the same amount of attention has not been
paid to needy orphans from war-ravaged, famine-stricken African
countries.In the United States, nearly half of the 258,000 children
adopted internationally are Asian, according to a new Census
survey.After the tsunami, Indonesia, Thailand and Sri Lanka have
all placed a moratorium on adoptions, partly out of concern that
the kids would be taken for use in the sex trade or for cheap
labour.Some of these governments already have strict policies
governing foreign adoptions.After the disaster, governments say
they are still searching for surviving family members and would
first explore options to keep the orphans with relatives or new
families domestically.The United States has also urged calm urging
restraint in adopting the children.France and Canada, however, are
looking for ways to streamline the foreign adoption process.But
this matter will take much time to sort through.Every time I see
flaxen-haired parents holding a baby with almond-shaped eyes in
their arms I can't help but wonder about the person he or she will
grow up to be.Will this child transcend cultural expectations and
definitions and be able to navigate freely between class,
boundaries and borders? Materially, the child will most likely have
a better life, but I also can't help but think at what costs.-
Pueng Vongs * Vongs (pvongs @pacificnews.org) is a journalism
fellow in child and family policy, a program of the University of
Maryland and the Foundation for Child Development.