Heritage

After the disenchantment of learning I was quite physically different from my family (and everyone else I knew), if you would have asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I would have said, "white."  Secretly that is.  I told people "Ornithologist" mostly because I could say it and knew what it was from a report I did for school.  (The study of birds).
Judging now from the books I've read about adoption, I fell into the category of children who want to reject their culture and fully assimilate to their family.  I was textbook, actually.
My parents took me to a few Korean heritage events when we lived in Bartlesville (yes, Oklahoma...) but I really did not enjoy going.  I really didn't care to learn anything about where I came from.  I mostly hung out with my Dad the whole time instead of meeting the other adoptees. Bless him; he tried so hard to help me make friends and would sit by me during all the activities just so I'd sit there and try.  No one else had their parents helping them color kites.  

It was easy to avoid the topic seeings how my parents didn't make a big deal out of making me learn anything if I didn't want to, and I went to white schools my whole life with spatterings of "other" minorities.

I remember walking through the crowded hallways in 6th grade and I ran into the only other Korean girl in our class.  She was like the Korean Tia Carrere...long smooth hair, early chestular development, great sense of style, popular and stood half a foot taller than me.  I mumbled sorry and she looked down at me, pet me on the head like a dog, and said, "aw, how cute."
I guess I should also mention that on pajama day when we all wore kiddy pajamas, she came to school in a sexy, red negligee.
I was her antithesis and maybe that's okay.  

A couple of weekends ago, we were invited to our first Korean heritage event in DFW for Alex.  Of course, my feelings of ambivalence resurfaced, but I owe it to him to provide the opportunities until he can make his own choices.  Plus, I've become more interested now after going through the whole process of Korean adoption from the other side of things.
Maybe I could also get something out of it, too, that I missed 25 years ago.  (I originally just typed 15 years ago...wishful thinking)

Like all events we get invited to, we were dangerously approaching nap time and had to cut out early.

V couldn't make it due to work, so we took Grandma instead.  Upon arrival, they dressed us in the traditional hanbok and took pictures of us.  Alex is obviously less than thrilled about wearing his.  I wish I would have gotten a good picture of this with my arms spread out because the sleeves are like wings.  Sorry, Indian sisters...the hanbok is way easier to put on than the sari.  It also hides more.
They invited everyone to a dressing room where they had hanboks of all colors and sizes.  We were fitted and given the hanbok as a souvenir from the event.  Alex walked in, took one look around, and tried to make a run for it.  He was not having any hanbok dressing of any kind.  He kept shrinking down lower and lower away from the women trying to dress him until he was on the floor with his hands over his face.  

the scenery for the professional shot.  I got to wear the hat and by this point was sweating profusely under the 4 layers of clothing I was wearing.

 We only had time to stay for lunch which was delicious.  Alex ran around with some other little adoptee boys.

The hosts were so gracious and great teachers about what everything was.

Alex of course, was more interested in

table decorations

than he was in anything else. I'd like to think, though, he felt the memories flooding back with the sounds and smells of his former life. He's only 2 though, so it's hard to say what he's thinking...ever.

We couldn't stay for the dancing and other activities, but overall, it was a great morning. 

If you asked me now if I still wanted to be white, I would say no.  (and almost fully mean it).  I have embraced who I am and have become quite proficient in finding beauty in every person, myself included.
I belong to my own small UN.  

I have my tiny partner in crime and together, we will navigate, forever, the convoluted journey of figuring out what it means to be a Korean American adoptee.

First day as mother and son.  09/2012