A love song from the Korean adoptee diaspora

Every now and again we stumble across something -- a song, poetry, a moment in time -- that cracks our hearts open and we are born anew. We see life in a new way. An indelible mark is made upon our souls and we are forever changed.

As an adoptive parent, those moments happen with some regularity when I listen to the voices of adult adoptees.

People outside of the adoption triad often see our families as happy solutions for everyone involved. But the truth of our lives is a complex stew of love and loss, joy and sorrow, and longing.

Blood of my blood.

Not.

Yet...

The nuances of loss are immeasurable even as we love each other, claim family together. Or seek to fill the empty spaces, the unknown places that complete our lives.

So tonight, this amazing poem passed through the window of the internet and entered my heart directly. From a woman I don't know. A Korean adoptee -- ibyang 입양아 -- a mother in Alaska from the diaspora. She offers us a poem about a love that embraces all of who she is, the complexity of a world created in pieces and of missing parts, now made whole:

You Bring out the Korean Adoptee in Me
by Christie Namee Erickson

You bring out the Korean Adoptee in me.
The snowdrift eyelids.
The unripe peach arms.
The knee jerk kisses I take and save for rainy days.
You know.

You bring out the red button heart in me.
The flashcard Korean nouns in me.
The message in a bottle but the bottle broke.
The fancy chopsticks.

The five year old Asian bob with perfect curled bangs in me.
All of my pink dresses, every laced hem, every inch of frill
every warm white tight in me. You bring out
the tacky bling
in my iris.

You bring out the frozen stir fry vegetables and soy sauce in me.
The four inch, no,
two inch heels so I still look good and you still look tall in me.
The fourth Killian and sloppy secrets in me.
The Dance Dance Revolution in me....

Do not bypass the opportunity to click and read the whole poem. Spent some time on her site, TSUNAMEE, and read more poems. Drink in her truth.

But don't stop there. Click again. Go to Thursdays, An Ibyang Intercontinental Poem-A-Week Project and read, listen, open your heart, and learn.

By the Time I Get Arizona 2010

A couple weeks ago I posted about Minneapolis' own Toki Wright and the amazing remake he did of the Public Enemy's "By the Time I Get to Arizona" in protest of Arizona Senate Bill 1070, which essentially legalizes racial profiling. Today the video dropped. It was shot during the massive May 1 protests in Minneapolis against the Arizona law. Check the video out. Amazing on every level.



Related post: Do I look Illegal?

13 years of surviving breast cancer

Team Babes Bombing Cancer

Thirteen years ago at the age of 41, a single mom with two school aged children, I became part of a club I never wanted to join -- women diagnosed with breast cancer. Today I am part of the club of women who have survived breast cancer. In that time I've lost friends and family to that terrible disease and so many other cancers. I have a friend battling right now. Diagnosed in her early 40s, with kids, like I was.

So on Mother's Day, a group of 30 or so friends and family walked, along with thousands of others, in the annual Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure (the Twin Cities event is one of the largest in the country). We walked in celebration, honor, and memory of everyone touched by this cancer.

After 13 years and in spite of the fact I had a bi-lateral mastectomy and see evidence of my survival every single day, I don't think about it all the time like I used to do. I don't worry that every cough means it's come back in my lungs, or that every ache and pain means it's back in my bones. I've moved on, sort of.

So when I signed up to be a part of our team, Babes Bombing Cancer, I was thinking more about my friend, in the throws of chemo and radiation, than me. But all survivors are celebrated at the event, and my team honored the three survivors among us. I wore the dark pink hat, marking me and all survivors, pointing us out. As much as I'm an extrovert and a bit flamboyant, I'd rather not have the spotlight on me for this one. I see the walk as about everyone and not so much about me.

But it felt good. Slowly, I embraced that this walk was for me, too. That I am one of the lucky ones. I got to see my kids grow up, witness the birth of my two grand kids, and fall in love again and get married at 51. I got to live long enough to stop being terrified that I had a disease that could have killed me, and might still.

At the finish line, I wept -- for everyone -- for the sorrow and loss, the worries, the joy of being alive. But for the first time in years, I also wept for me and for the miracle of my own survival.

Photo by Sally Nixon

Rachelle Ferrell!

I am going to see the amazing Rachelle Ferrell tonight at the Dakota Jazz Club in downtown Minneapolis, one of the most intimate venues to see this eight octave woman! Review coming tomorrow*! For now, a taste...



* May 6 Review:
Imagine yourself in an intimate night club full of music loving folks -- including a good representation of local music talent. The crowd is hip, brown, many ages, and in noisy adoration of what is unfolding on stage -- or more correctly, what is unfolding onstage and with the audience.

Rachelle Ferrell, her first time in Minneapolis, "brang it" in spite of a cold. Her off the chain multi-octave voice, playful engagement with the audience, and smooth band of brothers on guitar, keyboards, bass, and drums, transformed the Dakota Jazz Club in downtown Minneapolis from a place to an experience.

The music was a conversation between Ferrell, her musicians, the audience, and the universe. We were of the music, in the music, together. From amazing turns on classics like "Summertime" to a bluesy song whose title I missed about someone getting off her neck and off her back, the air we collectively were breathing was infused with music created, interpreted for that moment only, for us, for her. Simply breathtaking.

Rachelle Ferrell at the Dakota Jazz Club

Do I Look Illegal?

May Day mug shot. Do I look "illegal?" I could be. (Actually my ancestors are the original "aliens.") Think about the privilege in action here. Would I be stopped in Arizona? Audre Lorde said, "Your silence will not protect you." Some day your/our skin color privilege will not protect you/us. In solidarity against AZ SB 1070 and immigration rights protests planned across the country today.

Related post: "By the Time I Get to Arizona," Toki Wright Style