Traveling in Asia as Caucasian parents with an adopted Chinese daughter presents its own unique challenges. When our daughter was a baby, visits to China invited small crowds. Strangers would attempt to pick up Elisa, squeeze her cheeks, and speak to her in Chinese. Now that she is older, those who speak English often approach her to ask if she is Chinese, others simply stare. Trips to Thailand, Indonesia and Malaysia over the past three years have also elicited some degree of curiosity.
In Hong Kong, an occasional question or remark from strangers about my daughter’s status inflames Chinese acquaintances. Well-meaning friends tell me it’s no one’s business, and I should respond accordingly. I gently explain that these episodes occur in the presence of my daughter, and I must choose words that that she can use someday when I am not there to answer on her behalf. I always try to respond openly (albeit briefly), with a desire to instill in our daughter a pride in both her American and Chinese heritage – and ultimately in herself.
All this is to say that my family takes questions about adoption in stride. Nevertheless, we were caught off guard during our recent trip to Vietnam where – no less than a dozen times a day – an onlooker would point at Elisa – sometimes within inches of her face – and shout, “Vietnam!” He or she would then look at us expectantly for confirmation of our daughter’s ethnicity. Elisa, who is generally pretty happy-go-lucky and accustomed to unsolicited attention, finally turned to me one day and asked, “Why do all the people here think we are from Vietnam?”
I remember when the Vietnamese government opened its doors to US adoptions in 2002, and last year, I followed with interest US Government claims that corruption was pervasive in the Vietnamese adoption process. I suppose it was the obvious status of our family that invited unsolicited explanations of the country’s adoption challenges. People shared Vietnam’s history of an unevenly enforced two-child policy, and their stories of corruption and poverty supported the US Government’s decision to close down its adoption program last year.
Erik and I have no issue with being forthcoming about how we created our family. Happily for us, it seems every American now knows someone – a sister, cousin or friend-of-a friend – who has adopted. I cannot say the same for Asia, where adoption remains incomprehensible to so many. Generally speaking, I have embraced my mission to help educate people – one encounter at a time – about this wonderful gift called adoption. But I have my limits. In Vietnam, I was relieved when my daughter thought that all the finger pointing was directed at us collectively; it made it easy to call it what it was: rude.