Yesterday. Sunday. Approximately 4:00 p.m.
As usual, hot in Shanghai. Humid, steamy, boiling hot.
After Tully's nap, Andrew and I take her to the little play area in the apartment complex across the street. Despite the swarms of mosquitoes, the climbing structure here is a little better than the one at our place. Plus there's a small cafe nearby that makes good smoothies.
As we approach we see a tall Western guy and his Chinese wife hanging out with their two kids; she's quite obviously pregnant with their third. Their little girl looks to be pretty close to Tully's age. "Cool," I say to Andrew, always happy when Tully has someone to commune with.
"Hello."
"Hello."
"Hello."
"Hello."
After the round of simple greetings (during which I figure out the guy is Australian), Tully heads for the stairs of the climbing structure. I follow. Andrew stays near the slide waiting for her descent. When Tully and I reach the top of the slide, the Australian guy turns to Andrew and says, "Did you move here to adopt HER?" While he says it, he wags his thumb at Tully.
I freeze; adrenalin sets me on fire. The question, the guy's tone of voice, and the wagging of the thumb is all so...so...callous.
Tully is now sitting at the top of the slide, smiling and quietly repeating "Dada, Dada, Dada" as she readies for the big swoosh to the bottom. Though she can hear this guy's question and see his wagging thumb, she's not old enough yet to understand what's going on. But soon enough she will be.
Andrew doesn't answer the guy. I don't answer the guy. Even though we know that many Australians are much more direct than Americans and way more direct than Irish folks, we are both still stunned. My blood is pumping like crazy; I hear my heart in my ears. I'm pissed. Beyond pissed.
I stare at the guy. He's a big, ugly man who clearly moved to China and took advantage of the fact that many young, beautiful Chinese girls are more than happy to marry big, ugly men who carry fat wallets and foreign passports. His wife is young, lovely, and obviously a healthy breeder...clearly a good prize for a hairy, knobby guy at least twice her age.
Suddenly, in response to his "Did you move here to adopt HER?" I want to say, "Did you move here to adopt HER?"...meaning his wife.
But I don't. I press my lips so tightly together I don't think my mouth will ever open again. I don't want to get into the habit of engaging negatively on playgrounds, but I also need to figure out a way to deal with insensitive neanderthals (men and women) who think they can say/ask anything.
I mean, what if I walked up to a dad who was playing with his birth children on a playground and said, "Hey, how many times did you have to do your wife before she got pregnant?"
I would never do that. No one would. So why do people feel such freedom to ask very personal questions in rude ways of adoptive families?
And let me reiterate, I don't mind talking about adoption. I'm proud of our family, of Tully, of her heritage. And if someone is interested in how we came to be a family, I'm happy to engage appropriately.
Anyway, after a few more minutes of play, we headed for the cafe and the good smoothies.
Breathe.
Technorati Tags: Kristin Bair O'Keeffe, Shanghai, China, Tully, adoption, family
As usual, hot in Shanghai. Humid, steamy, boiling hot.
After Tully's nap, Andrew and I take her to the little play area in the apartment complex across the street. Despite the swarms of mosquitoes, the climbing structure here is a little better than the one at our place. Plus there's a small cafe nearby that makes good smoothies.
As we approach we see a tall Western guy and his Chinese wife hanging out with their two kids; she's quite obviously pregnant with their third. Their little girl looks to be pretty close to Tully's age. "Cool," I say to Andrew, always happy when Tully has someone to commune with.
"Hello."
"Hello."
"Hello."
"Hello."
After the round of simple greetings (during which I figure out the guy is Australian), Tully heads for the stairs of the climbing structure. I follow. Andrew stays near the slide waiting for her descent. When Tully and I reach the top of the slide, the Australian guy turns to Andrew and says, "Did you move here to adopt HER?" While he says it, he wags his thumb at Tully.
I freeze; adrenalin sets me on fire. The question, the guy's tone of voice, and the wagging of the thumb is all so...so...callous.
Tully is now sitting at the top of the slide, smiling and quietly repeating "Dada, Dada, Dada" as she readies for the big swoosh to the bottom. Though she can hear this guy's question and see his wagging thumb, she's not old enough yet to understand what's going on. But soon enough she will be.
Andrew doesn't answer the guy. I don't answer the guy. Even though we know that many Australians are much more direct than Americans and way more direct than Irish folks, we are both still stunned. My blood is pumping like crazy; I hear my heart in my ears. I'm pissed. Beyond pissed.
I stare at the guy. He's a big, ugly man who clearly moved to China and took advantage of the fact that many young, beautiful Chinese girls are more than happy to marry big, ugly men who carry fat wallets and foreign passports. His wife is young, lovely, and obviously a healthy breeder...clearly a good prize for a hairy, knobby guy at least twice her age.
Suddenly, in response to his "Did you move here to adopt HER?" I want to say, "Did you move here to adopt HER?"...meaning his wife.
But I don't. I press my lips so tightly together I don't think my mouth will ever open again. I don't want to get into the habit of engaging negatively on playgrounds, but I also need to figure out a way to deal with insensitive neanderthals (men and women) who think they can say/ask anything.
I mean, what if I walked up to a dad who was playing with his birth children on a playground and said, "Hey, how many times did you have to do your wife before she got pregnant?"
I would never do that. No one would. So why do people feel such freedom to ask very personal questions in rude ways of adoptive families?
And let me reiterate, I don't mind talking about adoption. I'm proud of our family, of Tully, of her heritage. And if someone is interested in how we came to be a family, I'm happy to engage appropriately.
Anyway, after a few more minutes of play, we headed for the cafe and the good smoothies.
Breathe.
Technorati Tags: Kristin Bair O'Keeffe, Shanghai, China, Tully, adoption, family
Some of the things in your head should really be said Out Loud.
Posted by: Ruth | January 17, 2011 at 09:30 PM