From Your Daughter

Who do I want to be?

To my birth family,

Given that I've recently realized that there's a rift between a caucasian upbringing and a CBC it's only natural that I, a person who grew up in a white family but has a Chinese face, would experience an identity crisis.

It's common for many adolescents and adults to undergo a period where nothing makes sense to them anymore. This was the first time that I seriously considered the possibility of not feeling comfortable in my own skin. But how was this possible when I believed I knew who I was?

Okay. Let's reference my previous letters.

I grew up around people who treated me as I was, and then met my first CBC friends in university. This was their first time meeting a Chinese adoptee, and this was my first time meeting people who didn't know who I was.

This was uncharted territory, so they weren't entirely sure how to address the adoption thing. They were worried about offending me, so I tried to make clear that I'm not overly sensitive about the adoption thing. And I'm not. Usually.

For the longest time the adoption thing has been on the back burner in the feelings department. I didn't realize until now that I had deeper feelings about this, that it was okay if I had deeper feelings about this.

I'd left my comfortable bubble where everyone just saw me as a fellow schoolmate, nothing beyond that. Now when people meet me they think I'm Chinese. Now when people read my name they think I'm white. Once they get to know me there's a disconnect between the two. They give me a strange looks as they try to figure out my story, because it's rude to outright ask, "What are you?"

Questioning is the name of the game, and believe me, it made my brain hurt so much I wanted to stop thinking about it. I wished I could go back to when this wasn't a thing for me. I wanted to go back to just being me, not a white or Chinese person.

But, like Pandora's box, once you open the lid on these things there's no way you can go back to the way you were before. The fact that I couldn't go back made me very, very depressed.

This was also the first time in my life where I didn't feel like I could talk to anyone, because no matter who I turned to–friends, family, neighbours–none of them were in my situation. None of them were adopted, so how could they understand me?

It was like I was drowning in a void. The colourful emotions I'd felt since coming to university all went dull and lifeless.

I felt so alone. And I chose to be alone for a while.

I ended up breaking down to a close friend about all this. It felt good to talk it out and try putting it in words (key word: try). I talked, and they listened, and they gave me advice. I could tell they were trying their best, but it's hard to give advice in a situation you're unfamiliar with.

After the talk I felt a little better. My friend's advice was helpful, but it didn't change the fact that I still felt stuck. I still felt alone.

Every time I met an East Asian person I feel a sort of kinship, like in another life we might've been relatives or friends. Then I feel sad that I can't relate to them. Sure, I might look like them, but I'm not them. I don't have asian parents nor an asian-influenced background. I can't speak any asian languages. I haven't grown up listening to asian music, watching asian film, or visiting asian relatives. So even though I look like them I'm not them, and can never be them. Is that weird?

They tell me it's fine that I'm not merely one thing, that they aren't either, that the world is so different that "normal" isn't really a thing.

People say that, and yet that's not how the world works. I think it's pretty cool to be able to find a group who shares so many similarities with you. Imagine being able to identify with a group who shares your looks and your experiences, similar family dynamics and history. There's a limited group for people who have a foot in more than one world.

I found myself with two halves that I desperately wanted to reconcile, but how could I when I see people every day who remind me that I'll never truly be just like them?

Talking about adoption doesn't usually bother me. But now it brings a whole bunch of unpleasant emotions, memories of emotions, up to the surface. I think I understand now why many adoptees don't talk about their adoption. We don't like being reminded or reminding ourselves that we're different.

So I'll be stuck here in limbo for some time, trying to come to terms with my new reality.

This is the next part of my life.

Sincerely,

Lillian

P.S. My next letter might take a while to deliver, so sit tight.

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Thus completes Part 1 of From Your Daughter. Thanks to y'all who've supported me and this story thus far! *Virtual hugs*

Part 2 will begin sometime soon!