I’m three chapters into “Outsiders Within” and wow, can I just say? This book speaks to
my heart. Deeply, deeply.
Things I’ve been too angry to say, things I’ve felt implicitly, but not known how to
articulate. Things I was more or less aware of, battles I fought, myopically. Like the way
my body is and has been politicized. What I represent, in my being, in what I choose to
do or say, will always be a reflection of an imperfect system, with systematic injustices
that are easy to ignore, and much, much, harder to address.
I came to Seattle in 1993 on a medical visa that was, to put it carefully, inaccurately
worded. That I had the opportunity to naturalize as a citizen of this country is a testament to the privileges of my White American family. That this system, in contrast, has a history of repatriating transnational adoptees who have lived out the majority of their lives in the United States, but who, for one reason or another, have not completed the naturalization process, speaks for itself.
The implications for many others are undeniable.
I want to say more. There is so much I want to say.
Reading the narratives of other transnational adoptees, other transracial adoptees, I am
struck by the sense of affinity and connection I feel to their battle cries. Battle cries,
which my own are a part of, of which my own were many times over discouraged by those closest to me.
Voices of both transracial and transnational adoptees, combined together by transracial
and transnational adoptees, tell me that it’s safe to be an “Outsider Within” – to
experience dissonance, and most importantly, to name it.
I think I’ve found my home. Reading this book has and will continue to be a tremendous
source of healing for me.
More on that, soon.