Holt adoption baby

sell by 12/19/66

Grandma Holt, why would you let people like this adopt?

with 2 comments

I wrote about my mother in my personal blog, but its subject matter crosses over into Holt territory, so I am linking to it here.

Added:

Man, that ceramic figurine on the record table is such a trigger…My dad used to always point it out, touch me a little too sweetly on the head, and say, “you know you’re my little Siamese kitty kat!”

Didn’t he see the cloud pass over my face as I shrank from his touch and thought, “I’m not Siamese.  I’m not your kitty kat.  I’m Korean.  Whatever that is.”

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Written by girl4708

October 7, 2008 at 4:41 am

Posted in Saving Babies for Jesus

Tagged with ,

2 Responses

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  1. Yeah, my parents bought me a little chinese “su-ling” doll for my seventh birthday. Of course, I feigned excitement because I was in a room full of people. That was their attempt to try to make me feel better. My aunt would also take me to Chinatown so I could be with “my people” and eat Asian food. Strangely, I found it comforting (when I wasn’t with her) to walk around among the Chinese-Canadian residents. I didn’t help me become comfortable being around other Koreans. In my early twenties, I traveled to China, Japan, Thailand,…but always avoided Korea. I made a conscious decision to do this because the pain within hurt too much.

    Solim

    February 15, 2010 at 12:31 pm

  2. Sorry I didn’t reply. I have been without internet for a month.

    My mom didn’t bother with orientalia, because I rejected it at an early age. Sometimes we’d have chicken chow mein in a can and I got the feeling the family was humoring my Asian-ness and a little proud of themselves when they served “Chinese” food. I liked it because it was the only time I ever got to eat bean sprouts…

    Korea always scared me because there was so little information about it. I wanted to be Japanese, because the only Chinese I ever saw on t.v. was badly dubbed Karate movies, and even worse female stereotypes. Koreans I saw in later years scared me because their voices were loud and I’d never heard the sound of it before. Petrifying.

    To embody the one race you know the least about is living the threat of, “don’t look in the mirror, you might not like what you see.” YOU DON’T KNOW YOURSELF, or what’s inside.

    It took forty years before I could even think about deciding to work at not thinking of them as the other/the alien/that I am.

    girl4708

    April 2, 2010 at 12:43 pm


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