On the politics of language and adoptee empowerment

In the  transracial adoption community, we hear a lot about the concepts of identity, language, and culture.  But have you ever stopped to wonder why? One way many people know of my own work around transracial adoption is through the two training films I appear in, “Struggle for Identity” and “Struggle for Identity: A Conversation Ten Years Later.” Obviously, a concern over identity is reflected in those movie titles. An example of a related concern over culture  includes the numerous “culture camps” that attempt to give adopted kids some familiarity with their cultures of origin, supposedly to help adoptees to forge stronger cultural identities. We’re encouraged to pay attention to issues of language by teaching people to use more adoption-sensitive terminology, for instance, teaching people who might not know any better to say “birth parent” rather than “natural” or “real” parent, and so on.

Language, identity, and culture are linked, because it is through language that humans assert their identities, including cultural identities. Lately, it has occurred to me that we adoptees miss an overlooked aspect of these interconnected concepts, and that is a consideration of power. Importantly, language is used by individuals and cultural groups to secure and maintain their power, as well as to enact their identities. Language, culture, and identity intersect because of the way certain groups assert dominance and influence through their strategic use of language. Whole groups of people can be kept in their place through the manipulations of language, which is why in recent years the notion of “political correctness” has risen to prominence. As members of dominated and oppressed groups organize to break the shackles of their oppression, battles over what to call themselves and even how to name reality become paramount.  Debates over language and terminology matter, because even something as seemingly neutral as language has powerful consequences.

With that in mind, it might be interesting to consider the power base behind the above mentioned terms used so frequently in the transracial adoption community. In my view, all three are examples of efforts driven by a group with particular interests, namely, adoptive parents. After all, adoptive parents founded “culture camps” in ostensibly well-intentioned attempts to better meet the needs of their internationally adopted sons and daughters. In the case of the two training films I appear in, it was an adoptive parent leader who secured the grant to create the “Struggle for Identity” movies. Meanwhile, other adoptive parents have worked to develop guides to disseminate adoption-sensitive language. Yet consider the power perspective, and ask yourself “Who really benefits?” In each case, it is not hard to see how adoptive parents pushed particular terminology in order to validate their choices of building families through adoption, and to address the issues that matter most to them as parents.

I find it fascinating that more and more adult adoptees, many of whom attended “culture camps” as kids, now reject that model, saying basically that it misses the point. Increasing numbers of transnational adoptees, whose parents tried to instill a sense of pride in their “heritage,” say that what they really needed was help in navigating racism. Rather than a focus on some romanticized view of a foreign culture from some distant land that they felt had little to do with them, these adoptees are now calling for allies who can help adopted kids figure out the rules of race in this country, their adoptive home.

As a multicultural educator and adoption trainer, I have observed how focusing on exotic cultures makes many adoptive parents feel good inside, while squarely addressing race makes many adoptive parents uneasy. Apparently, white adoptive parents much prefer to talk about culture, not race. Similarly, they would rather hear from adoptees as we heroically “struggle” with our identities, rather than hear (much less DO anything) about the very real racism that most of us inevitably face as people of color.

Language matters, because the ability to name reality confers a kind of power on those who get to name, and have their names stick. Think bout how the multi-billion dollar global adoption industry relies on clever manipulations of language for its very existence and legitimacy. International adoption agencies are notorious for playing on sentimental views of parenting, and on the unfulfilled yearnings of pre-adoptive parents (their paying customers). They clutter their websites with gooey images and terms such as “bring your little angel home through our agency.” The main problem I have with bringing little angels “home” is that they are already home overseas, yet adoption itself is ripping them away from the only homes they have ever known—even if that home is an orphanage or institution or foster family. Creating a fantasy rescue narrative about bringing orphans home plays right into the hands of agencies, not to mention the pocket books of the consumer, those desperate and emotionally vulnerable pre-adoptive parents.

Incidentally, don’t even get me started on “Gotcha Day.” I can’t think of a more hurtful, insulting symbol of the pain of separation and loss that some adoptive parents have selfishly and insensitively turned into a celebration of their wish fulfillment through adoption. To me, “gotcha” is what you hear when your adversary suddenly surprises you with a mean-spirited trick or trap. And this expression is how adoptive parents choose to celebrate their success at becoming parents? But remember, language matters—and we can now analyze the real power behind the terms. “Gotcha Day” exists to satisfy parents’ need for approval and validation. They tell themselves that they are welcoming the adopted child, but more and more adoptees know better. We are learning to see through the clever lies and manipulations. Because we are not stupid, our consciousness is being raised.

Consider how, among oppressed groups of people, we often see moves to reclaim once hurtful names (such as “nigga” or “queer” used among African Americans and militant sexual minorities, respectively). As a gay African American, I understand firsthand how using such terms is understood by many in our communities as a way to remove some of the sting of pejorative terms that were used to oppress us. When members of marginalized and oppressed groups start to use old slurs as terms of solidarity among each other, they can usurp the power to inflict pain. Some of us even begin to wear the hurtful names almost as a badge of pride.

Lately, I have become increasingly frustrated at the depressingly slow progress we are making in reforming transracial adoption so that fewer children are left to suffer racial isolation and without adequate support to address adoption issues. It occurs to me that adoptees, as an oppressed class, might want to take a lesson from the liberation movements of other oppressed groups. It’s time we started to pay more attention to the politics of language. What we call ourselves and allow others to call us can be a powerful weapon in the fight for self-determination and liberation. The way we use language to describe our reality can lift us up or hold us down.

Take the word “orphan.” The global adoption industry is founded on the noble-sounding notion that parentless children, labeled as “orphans,” need to be rescued through adoption. The label “orphan” confers vast power and status on the rescuers—adoption facilitators, missionaries, adoption agencies, and adoptive parents—all of whom literally profit off the separation of children and birth parents. Yet more often than adoptive parents and professionals care to admit, so-called orphans are stolen and separated from their original families through unscrupulous means. The cumulative experience of adult adoptees who reunite with their birth families, after growing up with the lie that they were orphaned as infants, proves to many of us the ways language was once again used to validate the institution of adoption—at our expense.

I think it’s time for adoptees to reclaim the term Orphan. I can’t wait to hear adoptees start greeting each other in solidarity, with a friendly “Yo, what’s up, Orphan?” Especially since I know it will generate educational shock waves, by calling into question the flawed institution of adoption. At the same time, we can take the sting out of the label that has been used to put us in our place and keep us forever acting grateful.

 So Orphans, let’s unite and raise our consciousness together. I encourage each of us to think more critically about adoption, and the ways different terms and phrases are used to describe our experience as adoptees. Were we “brought home” to our “forever families” on “Gotcha Day?” Does that narrative truly reflect how you feel about adoption? As an Orphan, how do YOU want to tell the story of adoption?

Adoptees, our time is now. Let’s be as strategic in our use of language as the builders and beneficiaries of the multi-billion dollar adoption industry have been. Orphans, they have had their say for too long. Now it’s our turn.