A Million What-If Scenarios
By Forest Shipp (he/him)
Adoptee, 24
Nanchang Project Volunteer
From Xinjiang; Living in Saint Louis
Adoption, like many things in life, is complicated, overwhelming, and life-changing for both adoptees and adoptive parents. How do we even begin talking about adoption?
Like many other adoptees, I am the product of China's infamous one-child policy. According to my papers, I was born in Changji in Northern Xinjiang, China. What was life like? I can only tell from grainy and old photos. Growing up, I tried so terribly hard to fit into the culture that I was adopted into. I tried to forget how different I looked. I tried to forget the strange look anyone would give my parents when they would tell me I was their child. Besides, it's not often that you see a married, white, midwestern couple toting around an Asian child.
I was loved, supported, and often shown relics of my past. I was nurtured and grew up in a healthy environment. Still, I felt so strange. How exactly do you understand yourself when you grow up in a German/Irish household, go to an Italian middle school, and attend a culturally diverse high school that still managed to lack an Asian population. I could count on one hand the amount of Asian friends I made growing up. I didn't feel shame when I looked back on where I originated from. I didn't feel awkward, put down, or neglected about it. I just felt lost.
I felt too Asian to fit into my big family gatherings. I felt too white to fit into Asian groups. I often joke that I am the diversity hire of the family because that is how I feel at times. I know my parents love me as much as the next set of parents love their own blood and skin child. However, in the back of my mind, there always lingered something...or someone. Whispers of a lost culture. Whispers of doubt. Whispers of insecurities rising to drown me while I slept.
There seems to be this constantly lingering question over my head and no matter how far or fast I run, it attaches itself to me like a cat with claws. Why? Why am I here? Why was I given up? Why do I search for something when I have everything right here? Why do I feel so much loss when I never was a part of the culture? It's such a simple question, but it eats at me like maggots on flesh until I cease to feel like I belong.
The only thing that matters is the right here and the right now. I like to live by “Why Not,” rather than “What If?” We are all accustomed to anxiety riddled “What If” questions – What if I get the job? What if I move out? What if I ask them out and they say yes? What if I get laid off? What if I am not good enough? These are all soul-killing questions to ponder. Instead, I love to emphasize to friends and strangers the importance of instead focusing on the “Why Not?” – Why not apply for that job? Why not ask that person out? Why not me? Why. Not. Me.
I do continue to wonder about my birth parents, my birth place, my why. But I don't let those turn into obsessions or insecurities of who I am. As badly as I crave answers, I leave it in the past because wondering “What If” leaves my soul tattered and barren. It's unhealthy. I need to focus on myself and what is here right now. Live in the past and I will miss what is. Focus on the future and I will miss the present.
Life is weird. It's strange. Mine could have ended in a thousand different situations from staying in China to being in an entirely different country. However, it didn't. I am here and I would not have it any other way because it is my life. I am burdened with the choice to be given up by my birth parents, but I will forever be soothed by the love and respect I have been given from family, friends, and strangers. At the end of the day, anything could have happened to change my current circumstances. A million what-if scenarios. But they didn't happen. So as I often encourage myself, I also implore you to focus on the present and to lessen the weight of “what if.” If a deaf asian thousands of miles from his birthplace and culture can learn to love, trust, and believe in himself then so can you.
Until next time,
our nextdoor deaf asian.
The views expressed in blog posts reflect those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the shared views of The Nanchang Project as a whole.
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