Category: Transracial Adoption
-
Behind the Camera: Crafting Our Family Story on Film
Have you ever wondered what it is like to be the subject in a documentary? Here’s your inside look.
-
The Truth Shall Set You Free
The ring lies on the ledge inside the shower stall. I remember to bring it outside when I am done. I wipe it dry and inspect it in the flickering bathroom light. Teal and silver, it is nondescript. I slip it on my finger, it is loose. I slide it into my pocket when dressed…
-
National Adoption Awareness Month – NAAM 2022
Each year as National Adoption Awareness Month (NAAM) rolls around, my feed is filled with opinions, thoughts and notes from people connected to adoption in many different ways. In the past I have been vocal about sharing our experiences. Over time, I have grown (hopefully wiser) and have paused to reflect and emphasize the AWARENESS…
-
Adoption Reunion – Pain And Pleasure
“I have something for you” she says, handing a black box the size of a shoebox. My eyes widen at the gesture and I take it from her gratefully. A book lies on top under which there are layers of soft tissue paper. I gently remove each one until this gorgeous doll swathed in maroon…
-
Adoption: Do Not Adopt Unless You WANT To
I woke up to a message on FB with a link to this Buzzfeed article on Myka Stauffer. Prior to reading the article, I had no idea who she was. It is a reflection on how little I am connected to the world of influencers and their ilk. I read the article a few times.…
-
#NAM2018 National Adoption Awareness Month: What Can Adoptive Parents Do?
Each November adoptionland is rife with op-eds, hashtags, conferences, panels and social media blitzes by all members of the triad. #FlipTheScript was all I heard over the past few years. I listened hard and reflected on what I heard. Some years, I wrote about my experience with openness in the context of our lives. This…
-
Open Adoption: Real Lives. Real Impacts.
My daughter, all of nine and I are standing, facing each other. I hold a tube of cucumber face pack and apply the goo in an even layer all over her face. I avoid her fine blond hair, so pale that I have to look carefully to even see it. Up close, her face is…
-
Open Adoption Goes Both Ways
“I am bored!” The words seem to resound, bounce off the walls of our home over the weekend. If they were not out biking or prone on the sofa, eyes glazed over, watching something inane on the television, they start like cicadas, a lone voice, growing, amplifying into a resonant chorus until I either yell…
-
Essay: Motherhood, Cleaved
An essay I wrote earlier this year reflecting on how my mothering my children feels cleaved is now online on the Adoptive Families Magazine website. If you are not a subscriber, you can read the piece here: Adoptive Motherhood_Cleaved.
-
Motherhood, Cleaved
cleave1split or sever (something), especially along a natural line or grain.“the large ax his father used to cleave wood for the fire” cleave2stick fast to.“Rose’s mouth was dry, her tongue cleaving to the roof of her mouth” adhere strongly to (a particular pursuit or belief).“part of why we cleave to sports is that excellence is…
-
Why I Share My Story
I am crouched behind the door, my large frame cramped on the tiny steps leading down to the basement. Pattu and Laddu are downstairs in the room farthest from where I am and I can still hear the muted sounds from the iPad they are playing with. Ammu is seated on the stairs across from…
-
On Fears And Expanding Horizons
I park and zip my rather loose fleece jacket as I step out the driver’s seat. I open the passenger door and Ammu and Pattu clamber out. I remind Ammu she needs her light jacket. She pauses as if to challenge me and reaches for her old faded grey fleece. I remember to lock the…
-
A Word Here, A Connection There
In the many years, I have been a blogger, I have often paused to consider what I am doing. I have often been asked why I share so much, put so much of myself online. The questions have made me reevaluate what I do, how I write and how much I share. The breaks have…
-
Hypotheticals
“Amma, can we please let Snowflake free?” Ammu pleads with me, still sleepy-eyed at 6:30 AM in the morning. “After you are back from school,” I say. “But amma, imagine if you were stuck in a box for monnnnnths…” she continues, her angst making her drag out the words. “I am not an elf and…
-
Of Struggling With Labels
“I don’t like my fake name” muttered Ammu, my first daughter. I was bent over the stove tossing rice noodles in a base of lemon and sesame oil. The heady aroma of tempered mustard and curry leaves almost made me miss the statement. A part of me always attuned to disturbances in the air peaked…
-
Musings On Adoption
I am Indian and American, they say proudly when we talk about either country. I wonder if I should correct them and let it be. Often while checking boxes on race and ethnicity, I pause, not sure what they mean really. Read the rest of the post on The Huffington Post.