My name is Maggie…
Being adopted from China is a central part of my identity. It shapes some of my decisions and my opinions. I understand interracial adoption and am very open about my experiences, good and bad. When I was younger, being adopted from China was something that set me apart from other kids and I enjoyed that; it made me special. However, as I grew older and the people around me grew more judgmental, I began to view it as a negative thing; it made me different. This last year or two I have explored what it means to be a Chinese adoptee raised by a single mother in Minnesota. Though that, I have accepted and embraced my multifaceted, nuanced identity. However, being a Chinese adoptee isn’t the only thing I define myself by. I am also a reader, a musician, a dancer, a STEM enthusiast, a sister, and just another teenage girl trying to figure out her life.
I live with my Mom, my sister who is also adopted from China, my dog Bailee, and our parakeet, Elliot.I love reading and writing. I enjoy fantasy and sci-fi books, films, and tv shows. I write poetry and have written the beginning of many stories, finishing them is the harder task.
I also dance at Chinese American Association of Minnesota (CAAM) Chinese Dance Theater (CDT) with some of my other China sisters. We preform Asian dances for Chinese New Year and other shows across the Twin Cities at different events. My China sisters have been a great support system and C CDT has been a doorway to discovering my heritage.
Here is a poem I wrote about being adopted
Boxes that keep me in
Crates nailed together that have been mislabeled
Shoved inside without a choice. No light
I don’t fit. I am not Asian. Not fully anyways
I check all the boxes
-Good at math - Vertically challenged- Black hair - Brown eyes - Glasses - Violin player - Future engineer
But only externally
No SAT in 7th grade Didn’t start studying until Junior year
We speak English at home With a hint of modern slang thrown in
I’m not immersed in Chinese culture
All my knowledge comes from textbooks
I am not Asian I am not fully American Not fully, anyway
I check off some of the boxes…
- I speak English pretty well
- My social life exists
- I can be whatever I want to be
-I understand pop culture references
- I use Fahrenheit when looking at the temperature
- Can rattle off the first 5 or six presidents
- Have a pretty good array of classic novels read .. But only externally
I don’t see myself reflected in the bright tv screens
Nor the literature I crave
When I walk down the aisles of the grocery store with my mom I get stares - American and Asian stores alike
I mark my calendar with the moon festival And beg my mom to get moon cakes
When the doctor asks for my family’s medical history I shake my head no
When people share their birth stories I look away
I have no stories to bring to the table
When I have to draw a family tree mine is incomplete It is a single branch A German one
I am not American
When they take me off the shelf and dust me off
They seem surprised that I am not what they thought I was
I look into their face
Old, young, white, yellow, brown, black,
In it lies confusion
Confusion that I don’t belong in the box they put me in
Confusion that my label doesn’t match
Confusion that I fit nowhere
And so, they have to create a new one
A new sticky name tag
A new box to put me in
One where I am all alone
What they don’t know is
I morph
I don’t stay one thing
I can’t be defined by one word
I can’t be contained by one box
I am American
I am Asian
I am Adopted
I am more
I am both
I am all
I am
Straddling Cultures: an exploration of a lack of borders