When I question how I could have both been helped and hurt by white privilege, it is the same type of reflection that I must conduct when I think about the ways in which I have both gained and lost so much through my adoption. The ability to not think in simple polarities has shaped and defined my maturation and has been a liberating discovery.
Read this book if you want to think of birth mothers reimagined, a fantastical rags to riches “Cinderella” story, or a beautiful portrayal of scenery and a lesser known culture, not if you are an adoptee looking to identify with Haley, the Chinese adoptee character in the story. While Lisa See tried to do her research, her identity as a non-adopted person shows clearly in the adoptee parts of this book. The use of common adoption tropes and clunky, developmentally-off dialogue made the adoptee passages difficult for me to read or even get excited about until the last chapter.
First Tutor Meeting – 03/04/2015 I met with the young woman who will be my Chinese tutor this semester. She is a post-doctoral student and seems nice thus far. This […]
Flight CA1503 Pek-Nkg – 2/27/2015 Unlike my last flight, I was not in business/first class, but that’s fine. I’m used to economy class. This short flight was particularly memorable for […]
I was recently asked to write about my time abroad. Since coming back to relationships and cities that seem relatively unaltered, it has been easy to pocket my experiences […]
It was about quarter to noon when my stomach began rumbling, signaling to me that it was time to have an early lunch. Lost in my own thoughts, I casually […]
Wednesday afternoon was a cool, crisp, quintessential fall day. The sun was high in the sky just past noon, poking through the leaves on the trees casting perfect shadows on […]
I am writing to report that last week I came back to the United States, to the city I grew up in, and to the parents who have encouraged me every step […]
Walking down a crowded street, surrounded by a sea of other Chinese faces and bodies leaves me with this sense of anonymity I am unable to find at home. There […]
At eleven years old, I was physically small, wore the color pink everyday, and had a constant smile on my face. In many ways, I still resembled a child much more […]
