Living Between the Cultures

I guess hello would be the appropriate way to start this off since we have never met.

Hello, my name is Elise, and I was adopted in 2002 from Yunnan, China. Growing up I always knew I was adopted. Both of my parents are white, so there were some clear differences I couldn’t ignore. And these differences were not something they made me guess; adoption was always something my mother discussed with me. However, no matter how much you discuss adoption and how to handle questions, it never really prepares you for your first inquiry or judgement.

Thinking back, one of my earliest memories of someone pointing out these differences was when I was 7. My father had taken my sister and I to go plant shopping, and they had these tricycles children could ride, so we did. We cycled around following my dad as he shopped.

Eventually, a worker came over to help my father, and after walking down a couple rows of plants, the worker turns to my sister and I and says, “can you please stop following my client around?”. My father explained that we were his kids, and we moved on, but that memory never left me.

I would like to say that was the only time, but as I grew up it became increasingly apparent to others that I was different than my family and different than other Chinese kids with Chinese parents.

I remember every year explaining to everyone I met or knew that I was adopted before they had a chance to ask too many questions. It was my way of taming the questions and potential judgement. It’s depressing to have to admit that your family didn’t want you, let alone have a full-blown conversation about it. Beyond that, I was never interested in sharing or learning much about my Chinese heritage or adoption story. I was in America, I went to a predominantly white school, I had white friends, why would I need to? I worked to fit in.