We are back in Sacramento, CA!
The Multicultural Center at California State University, Sacramento has invited me to share YOU FOLLOW: A search for one’s past on October 27, 2016 at 12 noon.
I will be available to answer and discuss any questions from the audience after the film.
For ten years, I have been reading about other adoption journeys, the common struggles and joys we experience, and of course stories of reunion. I find myself reading non stop about how mothers find their children, adults finding their parents, families falling apart after reunion, and how closed files keep identities sealed.
Before throwing myself in books, I just didn’t think that it was possible for me let alone anybody else to find any details about their first family, their first life.
Being that I am an adoptee from India and having my adoption take place thirty three years ago, the idea and hope of reunion was probably never considered by the facilitators. The lack of possibility became my narrative. My narrative that was passed down to me were based on assumptions, books, fear, and uncertainty.
It was the stories of domestic reunions that began to change my narrative about my own reunion from impossible to maybe, just maybe.
Years went by and the opportunity to search came and I began to act. I followed my instincts and shared my friends belief that it was going to happen. Www.youfollowthefilm.com
Since the release of the film, I have become friends with many other international and domestic adoptees. We all have shared our stories through either film, books, solo performances, poems, and blogs. Their vulnerability to open the doors to their most private and personal history is admirable.
Reunions are the goal. Pictures are valuable. Files are requested. Acknowledgment is crucial. Reattaching the psychological, physiological, and spiritual bond that we share with our mother is a biological necessity.
Understanding these desires, I can’t help but want the fantasies and dreams of reunion to come true for my dear friends. For some, they have. It usually never goes the way that they anticipate, but nonetheless, they know, and knowing is all I want.
All I want to know is who she is. All I want is a picture. All I want is my file. All I want is a conversation. All I want is the TRUTH.
The once possible is slowly becoming the impossible again and it’s not fair.
I continue to hear about my dear friends and their stories of reunion or gathering any pieces from their first family.
It’s all so bittersweet.
I will admit that jealousy is my immediate response. I can be looked at and judged in many ways, but I’m going to be quite honest here. I am not only happy for reunions that my dear fellow adoptees experience, but I am also very jealous. I am jealous of the pictures, the acknowledgement, the open files, and the relationships. I am even jealous of the pain, the tears, heartaches that sometimes come with reunion.
I understand that knowing all or some may not be the best for everyone that has access to their history, but I want it all.
I want to find my family on Facebook, or by putting a letter in a file, or joining a website, or hiring an investigator. I want it to be easy where cultural barriers don’t exist, where female babies are honored, where we share the same language, where I don’t need to hide and lie in order to meet my family and where my mother has no fear or shame in saying yes, I am your mother.
I want it to be simple. It should be simple. It needs to be simple for all of us.
My 33rd birthday passed last weekend. As usual, I didn’t think much of it and casually started talking about how to celebrate it with friends.
When brainstorming, I consider what I haven’t done before and what I could do on short notice. The idea to camp in Yosemite was explored and became my birthday destination!
I invited a few friends, but since all of my dear friends traveled long distances to my graduation two weeks prior, they all gracefully declined.
It was all good because I was going to go anyways, which turned out to be the best outcome.
I packed by bags, picked up camping gear from my sister, set my GPS and hit the road.
I arrived on Friday, set up camp, hiked a bit and meditated. Being that I am from a country where there is at least a 12 hour time distance, I find myself thinking of my first mother the day before my birthday. I thought about her all day in fact. Its not uncommon for adoptees to some how include our first families in our thoughts at this time of year.
This year seemed the same as last. I was not really in a celebratory mood or really desired a lot of attention.
Saturday morning arrived and it was officially my birthday. My mother and stepdad came to my camp for the day. As soon as they showed up, they wanted to rest and take a nap. I took off and began to explore northern Yosemite on my own. It was a magical moment to be out in the wilderness on my own. I breathed, cried, stared at the waterfalls, prayed, and sat in silence.
Throughout the whole day, I thought about my first mother and what she could possibly be thinking about, feeling, and if she was imagining me as a 33 year old young woman. I missed her. I mourned because it is truly unlikely that I will ever meet her again and have a relationship with her.
Last year on my birthday, I was in San Juan, Puerto Rico. The city was full of Catholic churches. It was nice to have a piece of Goa with me on my birthday. https://theadopteediary.com/2015/07/02/birthday-blues/
This year was similar. I wasn’t surrounded by Catholic churches, but I was surrounded by beautiful Indian families. It was nice to have a visual reminder of my first home on my birthday. 
It was nice to be alone, on my own, and free to not celebrate my birthday in the traditional sense.
Like I previously mentioned, I was asked to attend the AAC conference and share the film, YOU FOLLOW. I was ecstatic because I had heard nothing but great things about the conference and not so great things about the conference. Attending has been something that I have been wanting to do for the last few years, but due to finances and the dates, I never really made it possible.
To be asked to attend to screen my film was something truly special. I felt that I was really making an impact on the adoption community and given the space to not only make my mark on adoption reform through my experiences and film, but to also connect and be seen. I am so thankful for the experience and to connect with so many other adoptees and professionals that were not only supportive, but also role models. I came out with a sense of pride to be among so many talented writers, creators, performers, filmmakers, poets, actors, screenwriters, and activists that share the same common threads, Adoption Reform and solidarity.
So now the real experiences come forth. What I knew going in was that the conference was challenging, emotional, and educational. Some of my friends couldn’t attend the whole conference and had to leave the second day due to intense triggers. Some respondents mentioned that the conference was predominately older white folks, although that is currently changing.
Along with their opinions, I was going in knowing how I felt from the last adoption conference that I attended, PACT An Adoption Alliance. Talk about emotionally triggered at every moment you are in contact with the other attendees, and adoptive parents.
I packed my bags, the DVD’s, my oil diffuser and I was off. I arrived only a few mins after my dear friend Reshma, began her presentation on grief in adoption. She is a fellow Indian adoptee and is currently editing and producing her documentary, Calcutta is My Mother. She gave her audience a shout out about my film screening the next evening as I was trying to walk in discretely with a huge travel backpack and side bags. So sweet and embarrassing. I loved it!
I finally got to hear her story and actually get to know her since we first “met” on Facebook. Gotta love FB. The one thing that I appreciated about her story is that she proved the “your mother was probably poor and a child prostitute ” dialogue that some Indian adoptees hear. Well, believe it or not, that is not always the case for female Indian adoptees!
Anyways, the next morning I said hello to all the familiar faces I could find and met new adoptees, birth/ first mothers, professionals, search angels, and adoptive parents. I jumped in as presentations as possible. All the topics that were presented interest me. I learned about how we, adoptees are four more times likely to commit suicide and/or be admitted for mental health/addiction issues. I learned more birth/first mother’s stories and how to identify micro/ macroaggressions.
The evening arrived and it was time for me to meet my dad, stepmother, and brother. I invited them to attend the screening and by my surprise, they were able to attend. It was important for me to have my father see me share the film to an audience and listen in on the Q and A. They enjoyed the final cut of the film, my brother handled the merchandise table, and my stepmother shared what she has learned about adoptee’s perspective. They were proud of me. There was so much that I learned at the conference, so I highly recommended that they attend another adoption conference because as my parents, they would learn so much! There didn’t seem to be much interest when I mentioned it so I can only hope at this point.
I was relaxed and calm the whole time. My essential oils helped but I did notice that as I was sitting in the presentations, I would find myself rocking back and forth. I seemed to have slipped back to the moments when I rocked and soothed myself. I think my surroundings also contributed. To my surprise, I was not all tense and on edge like I was when attending PACT. The reason was that most of the attendees were adoptees and open professionals. I was surprised because most of them could be prejudged as adoptive parents. Ha, I got fooled. The demographics were different and it made a difference. Not a huge difference, but a difference.
Going back to how I mentioned that the presenters are becoming more diverse, I could actually see it. In the previous year at the conference, some writers from The Lost Daughters presented as well as a few other POC. More POC presenters was an intentional choice and the board member’s level of awareness made it possible. I felt very welcomed and emotionally safe. I was proud to be part of other adult adoptees of color contributing to the adoption movement, not only via #flipthescript, but also in the educational realm of adoption.
Although I did enjoy myself, I left with suggestions of course. I mentioned in the survey I was asked to fill out that POV’s from adult adoptees that are experiencing an open adoption would greatly be appreciated. For me, there is a lot of support and advocacy for open adoptions, but I personally don’t know of a group of adoptees in an open adoption advocating that it worked. Also POV’s from non-adoptive siblings would also be beneficial because within the research and blogs, there seems to lack a space for them to share how adoptions has affected their life. They are an equal part of the family where adoption influences their family role and relationships. I would like to know what my sister may be feeling before I ask. Seems weird, but I think it would help.
Reflections and suggestions aside, would I attend again? Yes, I would love to attend again!
Soon after I returned from the American Adoption Congress Conference (more about that experience later), I was contacted by Adoption Today‘s editor, Kim Phagan-Hansel. She asked to watch and review the film for their monthly magazine. She attended the conference but was unable to attend my screening. I passed along our film and by my surprise, we were published in their May 2016 issue. I was only given the PDF of the article, so here is the article copied below. Please visit our website for more information about the documentary!
YOU FOLLOW: a search for one’s past
Gazillion Strong
Saywhatfoo Films, 2016, 91 minutes, www.youfollowthefilm.com, $20 DVD, $10 Digital
Eager to connect with her birth country, Nisha Grayson and several
of her friends set off on a journey to India, which they chronicle in the film,“You Follow.”In order to make the trip more meaningful,the friends decided the focus of their trip should be on helping Nisha locate her birth mother. When they arrive, they begin their mission. Along the way they run into many roadblocks and challenges, however the group continues to push forward on their mission to find Nisha’s birth mother.
A chance encounter with a local street vendor named Tony changes everything as he decides he will take it upon himself to find Nisha’s birth mother. For more than two years, Nisha searches for her birth mother with Tony’s help, culminating with Nisha returning to India to meet her birth mother. Unfortunately, the meeting is not what Nisha had hoped for.
“You Follow” is a glimpse into a portion of one adoptee’s mission to find the missing link, her birth family. The film shows the raw emotions of excitement, frustration, sadness and so much more as Nisha lives through the search process. The film is definitely an eye-opening opportunity to understand the mixed emotions that adoptees feel and the difficulties in living between two worlds. Woven throughout the film are interviews with various adoption professionals, adoptive parents and others involved in the adoption system. These interviews allow for a broader perspective of the adoption experience overall. The film was an official selection of the 2015 India International Film Festival and the official selection of the 2014 La Femme International Film Festival. “You Follow” is an insightful film that provides a valuable glance into the real experiences of adoptees and others touched by adoption. It’s definitely a must-see.
— Reviewed by Kim Phagan-Hansel
I was first introduced to the #UnfairAndLovely hashtag, movement, and social campaign by a dear friend of mine on Facebook. As soon as I read the title, I was thrilled to have my skin tone represented in a beautiful way that is spreading worldwide. I didn’t read the article right away because I was beginning to have flashbacks of how I have experienced backlash for my dark skin from friends, strangers, and white men. But before I share those stories, I must acknowledge the women that have brought this conversation and recognition to the forefront.
If you haven’t traveled to India or any other South Asian country, then you might not be familiar with the beauty supplies that are advertised and sold in every beauty store and drug store. These products are created to perpetuate the shaming and the ideal view of beauty that lighter is better, more desirable, and can create a better life with more privileges and opportunities. The bleaching creams are made to lighten women’s skin tone, body hair, nipples, and even vaginas. Not to mention, dark skin men are also targeted with their own beauty line of bleaching products. One of the main companies that sell their products in India is called Fair and Lovely.
The woman in charge of bringing awareness and dark skin back to the global definition of beauty is Pax Jones. She wanted to ‘”combat colourism and the under-representation of people of colour in the media. We were trying to challenge the way colourism permeates our lives,’ Ms Jones told the BBC over the phone from Austin.” Jones created a photo series of her South Asian classmates, sisters Mirusha and Yanusha Yogarajah (seen below) back in December. Since then, women have contributed their stories of how they experienced colourism, felt ashamed, have been humiliated and dehumanized as a result of their dark skin not being seen as beautiful.
I have always noticed that dark skinned Indian women were rarely in movies, on magazines covers, or in the media light. If they were, then photo shop was part of their makeup. I even see it here with African America/ Black actresses being lightened up with special effects before going to print.
I have read some stories of my South Asian sisters and how they have been constantly reminded that their dark skin is not beautiful. I am sad to say that I can relate. Although I grew up within a white family, I wasn’t told to stay out of the sun or that I would have a hard time finding a husband, but I have experienced many jokes from my dear friends while growing up. Did I ever go to my parents to talk about it. No, I didn’t. I felt that they wouldn’t understand nor know what to tell me that could help bring back my self esteem. As a result of the mocking I would receive at school, I chose to stay out of the sun, I chose to lift my head up a little bit higher in pictures, and at times I chose to join in on the laughs.
Those jokes are not what really hurt the most. I remember crushing on a white classmate in high school and admitting to him how I felt. His exact words are something I will never forget, “we could never date because you are too dark.” I was heartbroken. A guy that I just got done making out with just told me that my skin tone was the reason that we could not be together. Something so little, yet such a big part of my life’s experiences that cannot be changed stood in the way of someone wanting me. That’s when I knew that I would experience this world in a completely different way.
My shame and practices subsided a few years later. I began to find pride in my dark skin due to getting compliments and just saying, “fuck it!” I began laying out in the sun more often in hopes that I would get darker. Let me tell you though, even me minding my own business, soaking up the sunlight and enjoying the heat on my body still doesn’t keep me from hearing hurtful comments. I remember just last summer, I took a day trip to the beach and as I was sitting there reading a book in the sun, a white old man had the courage to come up to me and ask me why I’m laying out in the sun because I’m already dark enough. Really? Now I have a limit on how dark I can be. I was shocked to hear such a comment from a complete stranger. He followed his insult with a compliment, but the damage had been done already.
What’s done is done but the scars are still present. I wanted to share my experiences and the fact that being part of a white family doesn’t necessarily give me a safe place to express these experiences or provide a reflection that states that dark skin is beautiful, therefore I have looked for acceptance out in the world.
On the flip side, it was brought to my attention that an old photo of me was shared on a Facebook page, Not Fair, Very Lovely. I’m glad that I have been part of this worldwide recognition and social campaign. This is not the first campaign to recognize dark skin as also being beautiful, and I hope it’s not the last.
I stand with all my South Asian sisters that have been dehumanized for their beautiful, dark and lovely skin!
http://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-india-35783348
http://www.buzzfeed.com/niralishah/unfair-and-lovely#.btl1p8jKN5
http://mashable.com/2016/03/11/unfair-and-lovely-campaign/#41B59XM35SqZ
Thanks to the South Asian Student Association, the Global Asia Working Group, and the Center for Humanities at UC Merced for hosting a free screening of my film, YOU FOLLOW: a search for one’s past. Food and refreshments will be available on a first come, first serve basis. No tickets needed.
I will be attending and available to answer any questions after the film.
I hope to see you there!
Thank you to the American Adoption Congress for your support and the opportunity to share YOU FOLLOW!
YOU FOLLOW: a search for one’s past
For ticket to the American Adoption Congress Conference
For Individual tickets to the YOU FOLLOW Screening
As an adoptee, there are some privileges that I don’t have. One of them is truth. As I become more involved with my history, my story, my narrative, there is still a little part of me that doubts what I have been told or what I have discovered. There has, and I am sure there will always be gaps and holes in my personal story. I am hoping these gaps are not created intentionally by those that have determined my destiny and path up until now. Although, even as a 30 something adult, I have had to accept the fact there will be truths to my story that I will never be able to uncover due to secrets and reputations held by key players in my adoption. I am not alone here.
Since the release of my film, YOU FOLLOW: a search for one’s past, I have connected with other trans-racial adoptees via Facebook. Aspects of their adoptions come up every now and then on my feed. Over the last couple of years, there have been a common trend of other adoptees celebrating the date of arrival into their family. This date is the day that their adoption became final, when they got picked up from the airport, when they met their adoptive parents for the first, etc. However their first meeting played out, that is the day that is usually acknowledged and sometimes publicly celebrated.
For me, my date of arrival was never really important to me. I always knew that it was sometime in December. Within my family, there was no acknowledgment or celebration. I never felt the need or desire to mark that date as an anniversary or a special day. At least not until recently.
It was the acknowledgment by my fellow adoptees that got me curious one afternoon in mid December of last year. I got the intense urge to find out because I did want to honor that day of the year.
The first thing I did was call my mother. No answer. Then I called my father. No answer, so I left a message. He took a couple of days to call me back. He stated that he looked through all the paperwork that he had but my day of arrival was not mentioned anywhere. He casually suggested that I look at my Indian passport.
At that moment, a loud DUH! went through my thoughts. I happened to be sitting at my desk and my handy plastic container with all my important documents was conveniently placed next to my chair by surprise. With my dad still on the phone, I lifted the lid off and my Indian passport was on top of everything else. I opened up the pages and found the stamp from the Bombay Airport Immigration dated December 29, 1983. I flipped the page and the same date appeared on the US Immigration stamp. There it was, the date that I left my first home and arrived to my next one.
I told my dad that today is my anniversary of when I first arrived to the US. He sounded pleased and happy of course, but I on the other hand felt the opposite. I felt sad, very sad. For me to find out my original date of arrival exactly 32 years later on the very same date was already unreal. These feelings of grief came over me. I acted like I was okay and said my goodbyes.
I sat and rode the waves of emotions for awhile. I stopped what I was currently working on at the time. I didn’t answer calls. I just sat with myself.
I cried.
I missed my first home. I missed India. I missed by birth mother. I missed a life that I could of easily had. I missed not having a choice.
Its odd, but I felt I was taken away. Almost against my will.
To think that my life could of unfolded any other way because of someone else’s decision. This someone that I will never meet and who refuses to answer any of my emails. This someone that holds so many secrets to my life so she can protect her own reputation.
Since there are so many uncertain pieces and secrets to the first six months of my life, I must hold on to the pieces that I know to be true. I can now add my date of arrival to my story.
The Adoptee Diary 