Rant ahead. You have been warned.
This past summer I read a blog (more like an online travel diary) written by an adoptive mother who called herself “[child's Korean name] umma.” That was how she signed her posts, every single day. In Korea, women are often called “[eldest child/son's name] umma,” but I’m pretty sure that this woman is not Korean.
I have heard other white adoptive parents call themselves their adopted child’s “umma” or “appa,” the Korean words for “mom” and “dad,” respectively. Unfortunately, this practice strikes me as more than a harmless just-a-name kind of thing, or even a “helpful” transition to ease a child into a new culture. Rather, it smacks of the kind of cultural appropriation that is so often mistaken for well-intentioned “embracing” of the child’s heritage.
See, to my thinking, kids adopted from Korea already have an umma and an appa, even if they can’t remember them, and even if they never had a chance to actually call them “umma” or “appa” in person. In the event that the first parents are known to be deceased (and not just assumed), shouldn’t they still be remembered in a respectful manner that honors their unique roles in a child’s life? When white American adoptive parents either insist or encourage their children to call them by the Korean versions of Mom and Dad, I have to wonder what their motivations could possibly be.
Do these adoptive parents want so much to erase these first parents from their kids’ lives that they are willing to take those terms of endearment for themselves? Because being Mom and Dad just isn’t enough, they have to be Umma and Appa also? My sneaking suspicion is that these are the folks who always have to be the “real” parents. They wear Tama Janowitz’s t-shirt with pride and swallow the as-if mythology whole and without question. They dismiss those sinful “birthgivers” as non-parents, rather than embracing the idea that an adoptee has up to four very real parents, and that each plays different roles in that adoptee’s life.
Of course, there are other possible explanations: Maybe the parents honestly do think that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. Or perhaps they are just showing off how much Korean they know, including the Korean custom of putting the child’s name before the word “umma.” But here’s the thing: Even if the adoptive parent’s intent is much more benign, the effect is still exactly the same — a child’s first parents are not demoted so much as obliterated, erased in very their own language.
Part of the reason why it bothers me so much when white adoptive parents appropriate the words “umma” and “appa” is that for adoptions that cross linguistic lines, this seems like an easy and convenient way to distinguish between a child’s different types of parents. Qualifiers like “first,” “birth,” “natural,” or “adoptive,” while often necessary to avoid confusion, may feel cold at the least, and hurtful and offensive at the worst. Reserving “umma” and “appa” for the Korean parents, and “mom” and “dad” for the adoptive parents, while not suitable for a scholarly paper, seems like a fair and reasonable thing to do when talking informally about your kids.
I mentioned this a while ago to someone who brought up the scenario of the entire family learning the Korean language together, and I have to confess that I was caught off guard by the very concept. Parents learning Korean along with their children, rather than dismissing the language as “too difficult” or the sole province of ethnic schools and culture camps? I keep getting told that “so many things have changed” since when I was growing up — is this one of them? Even so, I have to think that the terms “miguk umma” or “miguk appa” could be used to refer to the adoptive parents in Korean, just like I use the terms “Korean mom” or “Korean dad” in English.
For a long time I wasn’t sure if I should write this, because is it really any of my business what terms of endearment any specific parent and child use to refer to each other? Especially since I’m not a parent, do I have any right to tell adoptive parents what they should and shouldn’t do when it comes to raising their children?
Well, in a word, no.
But I am an adult Korean adoptee, and this blog is for writing about my thoughts on Korea, adoption, and my experiences in general. And I would hope against hope that adoptive parents of Korean children might be at least a little interested in what I (and other adult Korean adoptees) think about things like this.
And what I think is that children adopted from Korea already have (or had) an “umma” and an “appa,” real Korean parents who deserve to keep that honor and title, if only in their own language.
It seems the least we can do.
**************************************
Other posts on this topic:
