The little girl’s name was Lily. Sasmita formerly nannied for the family and they asked us if we could watch her one weekend this past January at their D.C. house.
That Saturday we went to a trendy place a few blocks from their house called Union Market. It has a few restaurants and some specialty food stores, but it’s popular for its delicious and unique open-air freshly prepared food.
Located in a gentrifying neighborhood, Union Market is full of young professionals and families. Sasmita and I decided to lunch there, bringing Lily in a stroller.
I had not thought about it, until we were in a crowd, but the three of us together looked out-of-place. Two brown ‘parents’ with a white baby. I realized how rare mixed race adoptions are by minority parents. read more …
For those unaware, this is National Adoption Awareness Month. There has been a lot of social media about this, some good pieces in well-known magazines, like the NY Times and elsewhere. National Adoption Month, was created to raise awareness and celebrate foster care adoption. In recent years it has been co-opted by the Adoption lobby and by those painting all adoptions as the greatest thing that ever happened to families, while omitting adoptee voices and the heartbreak and loss inherent in the process.
A group of adoptees developed a campaign called #flipthescript doing their best to counter the rose-colored glasses view. I am participating, as the attempt offers thoughts on our personal adoption narratives, because adoptees themselves are not the ones people usually hear from.
That is one of the reasons I began blogging years ago. I thought my voice, as a male, Indian adoptee, deserved hearing, and I still believe that is true. However, since I began writing I realized my adoption story is quite different from other adoptees.
I choose to celebrate my adoption because my parents, David and Robyne Bryant, understood all sides of the adoption narrative and raised us with that knowledge. Some adopted friends and colleagues had negative experiences with their parents/guardians regarding adoption. I was not one of them.
A quick aside, I do not and have never called the two people who adopted me, my adoptive parents. They are my parents. Period. I understand that a different woman gave birth to me, but she is my first/birth mother. I rarely call her my mother.
Some adoptees have tough stories of coming to their new country, and being adopted by families who disavowed they had a birth mother and father or came from another culture. I have no experience with that. While I lost some Indian culture through adoption, my parents worked and sacrificed to keep me tethered to it throughout my life.
I’m dedicating this post to them for all they did creating the best experience for me growing up adopted. read more …
Sunday marked four years of putting my thoughts on the web as a blogger. It continues to be an incredible journey for me. On Father’s Day in 2009, I began this blog. I am amazed by where it has gone since. read more …
Below is a re-post from Land of Gazillion Adoptees as promised.
I’m also in the midst of re-designing this blog.
One of the more surprising revelations after living in India in 2011, was learning that the Dalits, formerly the “untouchables,” are no fans of Mahatma Gandhi. Coming from the United States and Western society in general, the Mahatma is held up as a paragon of non-violence and civil disobedience. I would guess that most in the US consider his life and his work as one of the most selfless, incredibly beautiful and inspiring of the modern world. The belief is less in India.
It’s been more than one year since I last posted here.
Sasmita is now my wife. She arrived from India in July of 2012, and we were married in August. We live in DC, and she has a full-time job as a nanny on the Hill, while I search for employment.
Through interacting with a number of adopted friends over the years, it is clear that many of us are involved in social work or have social justice passions and I don’t believe it’s a coincidence. I think that for some of us what we experienced growing up, feeling “different,” and not “fitting in” gave us a real insight into those in our society who suffer in the same manner and are in pain. I know I feel that way.
Hello from Delhi,
In puzzling over what my first post from India should say, I decided to be more philosophical, real and shy away from the day to day narrative of my life here. Perhaps that will come later. This post, however, is more of a reflection on my evolution of thought, as an Indian adoptee.
read more …
I hope everyone’s 2011 is off to a fantastic start.
It’s been forever since I last posted, but that is about to change. The last few months were packed with finishing up my graduate course work and planning the news I’m about to share with you. I will start writing on a much more frequent basis starting this month.
The reason…at the end of January, I’m temporarily moving to India.
This blog is about how I feel. I was not trying to offend or make blanket statements in my last post. Before I go further, I realized I made some black and white pronouncements as my friend Carolyn (herself an adoptee) pointed out in my last entry. This post and the next one will generally be a fleshed out response to some of her thoughtful disagreements with that post. read more …
My apologies for such a long time in between posts! Since I’m a DC resident I’ve been dealing with the snow, and that coupled with my graduate school studies have kept me quite busy. I’ve got some new posts in the pipeline coming soon, so be patient with me.
Some of you may have seen this recent Newsweek article, written by Jeneen Interlandi, an internationally adopted woman from Colombia. Overall I like the article, I think it’s timely and I agree with most of it. But there are a few ideas I’d like to explore.
I happened upon this article last week and it brought up a few long standing topics in the adoption arena. But there’s one particular issue I’d like to examine today and that is the idea of an adopted child as “second best.”
I get really annoyed when I tell people I’m adopted and then after the inevitable, “Have you met your real parents?” question, they ask me something similarly disturbing: “Were you adopted because your parents couldn’t have children of their own?” read more …
It seems like an innocuous question, but for an international adoptee it’s a complicated one.
My typical response, “Madison, Wisconsin via Central New Jersey and I’ve lived in DC for about five years.” Which elicits a frown, or quizzical facial expression of the person asking and their follow up question becomes “where are you really from?” read more …