Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Countdown to Publication: 34 Days
Featured today on: SheWrites.com 
Oprah Winfrey’s mother had a child and put her up for adoption when Oprah was nine. The news is out, the show is run, and in response—adopted people, birth mothers and countless fans toss emails around the internet and scramble to their computers to watch the show that “tells all” about this star-studded reveal.
In thirty-four days Found: The True Sequel to Blackbird will come out. Thank you to Seal Press. This book is the story of my own search and finding of my birth mother, and with the Oprah reveal of this week, is likely well timed. In fact, friends are writing about how lucky I am that Oprah is releasing this story at this time. It’s free publicity. Go. Go. Go.
Free publicity? Perhaps. Good timing? Yes, indeed.
As I straddle this line between a truth seeker and now, a book marketer, I find that I struggle. As an artist in a world where the buck funds my process and my creative venture, I must be tuned to want and seek a coveted slot on Oprah Winfrey’s program--and any other program that will have me. But what if this never happens? What if my work never sees the light of day and more, what if, when it does, the work I've spent so many years of my life on is not given the depth of consideration? And more, can a talk show, a review or an interview ever really bring out the essence of a book and make it shine?
These are truly haunting questions, are they not?
As a seeker of healing and of truth, I have to admit that I am very happy someone of Oprahs stature is “in” the story of adoption via first hand experience. Considering the number of people who have been adopted in this country, I am not surprised at all. The Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute tells us that something like 80% of the people in this country are impacted, in some way, directly or indirectly, by this phenomenon of adoption. 
In researching and writing Found, I have learned first hand about this least spoken of and yet the most mind-boggling sorrow of these last one hundred years. Women, countless millions, due to economic, social and family pressures, were (and continue to be) forced to make impossible soul-shredding decisions to part with their children.
Like William Styron showed us in his stunning novel Sophie’s Choice, when that woman was forced at gun point—by a Nazi—to chose between one of her children or both would be killed, the outcome was beyond grim. Both children died and Sophie was haunted until taking her own life. Styron portrayed this global epic tragedy—where cultures force woman make these kinds of choices daily—perfectly.
Think of our poor sisters in China, Vietnam, Korea, Russia, Africa, here in the U.S., and countless other countries, imagine their children, and see how we, as a race of supposed higher beings, chose not to take action. We look the other way, we speak in generalities and platitudes and in some cases we pluck the babies from the arms of another and say “ho hum” she is too poor, too ignorant, too too too, in order to get what we want—a solution to infertility.
Let me state, emphatically, that there are children who need to be adopted and there are good, no remarkable and enlightened adoptive parents out there who place the needs (and sorrows) of their adopted children first. This is true. And there are others who don’t give a nit for the fate of the original mother who bore their child or the deep sorrows contained in the child herself. In far too many cases the original mother has been forgotten, psychically annihilated and in some cases legally obliterated. The child is assimilated, adapted and called "lucky" for her new family and worse is often denied access to ancestry.
It is time to talk, with heartfelt candor, about adoption. So bravo Oprah. Bravo. And I have to also say this is a subject that aches to be looked at, very closely, from the perspective of the adoptee--who let's face it--has the least heard voice in the many conversations being held around the nation. We are hearing from one popular commentator on the radio that his experience of adoption (as an adoptive father) is nothing but a blessing. We hear from Oprah how she is honored that her 1/2 sister had integrity enough not to sell her (O) out and of course, get a deep view in how this woman feels now that she has Oprah as a sister. And we have heard more than enough about a woman in the U.S., fed up with her adopted child, puts him on a plane back to Russia.
But where is the adoptee's voice in all of this media?
Found took eighteen years to write and I used to beat myself up over the snail like pace it seemed to take me to "figure" myself out. But in watching all this media around adoption and seeing how the adoptee experience isn't figured into the conversation in a real way, I see a different view. Perhaps it took me eighteen years of earnest effort to dig through the many layers of cultural and family denial around the issue of my adoption and the importance of my ancestory.
So all this is a long way around to the very big question. Will this book, this heartfelt, true and achingly honest book, be understood? Will Found ever make it to the talk show circuit? And, will my journey be any less valid if the answers are no?
Of course, these are the most troubling questions I ask myself in the dark of the night as I wait out these final days. I am, like all writers, all artists, caught in that place between what I've created and the delivery of the creation to the world. And so, sister-writer, here comes another question: As a writer, artist, truth teller, how much would you do to get on Oprah? And how much more valid do you believe your work would be with that kind of public recognition?
2 Comments:
Brilliant post! I cannot agree with you more about the Oprah show NOT showing the REAL stories of adoption, and how it affects so many people not just here ... but all over the world.
Thank you for your honesty when telling us what the behind the scenes was like at the O show. We, as viewers, often see Oprah as a powerhouse of information. I am a little surprised, but not really, that they were feeding you lines and telling you how your hair should look. Reminds me of that gamshow back in the day that fed answers to the contestants so that the program would get better ratings. What a shame that her show, which is so loved and viewed the world over, seems to be more of a dictatorship rather than an honest hour of true stories.
I have been trying to get Harpo's attention since I released my book over a year ago. I used to think that I would do anyting to be a guest on her show. But now, after seeing snips of the show the other day, I am not so sure that I want to be subjected to what HER perception of me will be. (or rather, what her perception of what I SHOULD be.)
I am on the other end of the spectrum from you in adoption. I am a birth mother and have lived for 20 years knowing that there need to be changes to the system, changes to aftercare for the women who do walk without their children (not really changes but rather promises kept that there will be help when needed!), and strive to share my story in order to help other women like me not feel so alone. I know that there needs to be more attention to this subject and only wish shows like Oprah would take a chance on really discussing the ins, outs, ups and downs of adoption. And I can only hope that now that adoption has touched Oprah personally, her eyes are opened to the immense shame and awful stigmas that are forced upon women who are birth mothers. More than that, I hope she pays attention to the adoptees that only want to be treated with respect in a world where often they cannot even obtain their own birth certificates.
What a challenging question you have asked, and I thank you for making me think twice about what I would give up in order to be heard!
Good luck with the book, I will have to get a copy when it comes out.
Appreciate the post and look forward to the book. I had to smile at the part about being "lucky". What really stuck with me is my adoptive mom telling me "You're special because you were chosen." But to be chosen, I had to first be rejected and who was to say I wouldn't be rejected again? I never felt all that special, more like a square peg shoved into a round hole.
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