Ten-month-old Ashley Westerman is held by her mother for the first time at the Heart of Mary Villa Orphanage in Manila, Philippines in 1988. Ashley Westerman/NPR Hide Caption
Toggle caption Ashley Westerman/NPR
This essay first appeared in the Up First newsletter. Subscribe here to never miss the next one. We bring you the news you need to start your day, plus a little bit of fun every weekday and Sunday.
“How did you find your biological mother? I want to find my mother too.”
This was the subject line of an email that recently appeared in my inbox. A girl adopted from Guatemala wanted advice on how to begin her search for the woman who gave birth to her.
I get a lot of emails with this or similar subject lines, and I can see why. In 2018, I detailed my personal journey to find my Filipino birth mother in a three-part series for NPR. The process was surprisingly easy. In the end, I pretty much closed the door on a lifelong goal with just a putter.
Since my article aired, I have received dozens of emails from other adoptees wanting to find their birth parents. These come in a little bit every other month from people at different stages of the process. But they’re all looking for the next thing.
Finally, talk to others you have something in common with.
What brought these people to me was that I had only written once about my experience finding my birth mother, but there was a complete lack of coverage in the media and Hollywood about adopted children and their experiences. It’s about being there. At a time when intersectionality and complexity are important to people’s identities, adoptees are somehow still left out of the conversation.
Even though millions of international adoptees live in the United States and contribute to society, they are left behind. This population is growing as the multibillion-dollar intercountry adoption industry continues to bring thousands of adopted children to the United States from around the world each year.
Since the wave of violence against Asian Americans began during the COVID-19 pandemic, many Asian adoptees, who make up the majority of international adoptees in the United States, have felt a keen sense of being overlooked. Ta. As Asians, we were horrified. However, as adopted children, our concerns were often ignored by our white families and “more Asian” friends.
It breaks my heart to hear about Asian American Pacific Islander Month. We know that during this “celebration” period, you are unlikely to see any articles or coverage about the Asian American adoptive community. This is ironic considering this month’s name is ridiculously long, as this month is an umbrella title that attempts to cover everyone with backgrounds from Lebanon to Rapa Nui. But in an attempt to include everyone, AAPI Month succeeds in further promoting those who don’t fit into the already huge box.
Frankly, it’s not up to adopters to address gaps in coverage when it comes to our articles. But we also shouldn’t be afraid to tell our stories. I know people need a little push sometimes.
So, Asian adoptees, this month you are not alone. i see you And perhaps if more of us told our own stories, others would see us too.
