Adoptees seek roots in China

American families reintroduce girls to country of their birth


12:00 AM CDT on Saturday, September 1, 2007
The Washington Post

CHANGZHOU, China – Twelve years ago, five families from the Washington area came to this city in China's Jiangsu province to adopt children. They found little girls to welcome into their worlds and, in doing so, joined a new generation of American families that had only recently begun to adopt from this country.

Overnight, an infant named Chang Chunhe became Maddy Conover; another, Chang Chungui, became Maryann O'Connor Roe. Four other girls were adopted, one of them a year later.

Last month, the five families made their first roots visit to China, an effort to reintroduce their daughters to the country of their birth and to dig up clues about the first several months of the girls' lives. It was the kind of trip an increasing number of American families are making as the tens of thousands of children who have been adopted in China come of age.

"We wanted to give the girls a sense of who they are," said Janet Bass of Bethesda, Md., mother of Alison Staffin. "We came here without children, got to know each other's stories and became friends. There's a special bond between the girls, and we wanted Alison to be proud of her background."

Parents say it's a background coaxed out at home with trips to the Sackler and Freer galleries of Asian art or with lessons in martial arts or Mandarin Chinese. It's a background the girls are curious about and eager to explore.

But the babies who left China were returning as all-American preteens, facing a challenge: how to learn about a homeland whose traditions – and politics – they never really knew in the first place.

In Tiananmen Square, for example, the families tried to unfurl a red banner that said "Journey of the Dragon 2007." It was for a group photo in honor of their trip and not in any way connected to the bloody 1989 crackdown on democracy protesters there. But the police, wary of any public displays at the square, immediately confronted them and rolled up the banner. For the girls, it was eye-opening.

"In America, you have a lot of freedom of speech," Alison said. "You can have a big banner that says 'I hate Bush' or something, and the police don't tackle you."

During the trip, the girls' speech, posture and habits set them apart. At a restaurant, they squealed "Eeeww, gross!" when served a whole turtle. They struggled gamely with chopsticks. And when they hung out at their hotel, wearing flip-flops and shorts, they rehearsed "Breakaway," the hit by American Idol star Kelly Clarkson, which one of the girls had brought to China on her iPod.

"Grew up in a small town, and when the rain would fall down, I'd just stare out my window, dreamin' of what could be," the girls harmonized. "And if I'd end up happy, I would pray."



More than 50,000 Chinese babies have been adopted in the United States since 1989. Last year, the State Department issued 6,493 visas to orphans from China.

But those facts aren't well-publicized here.

Everywhere the families went, they drew stares – so much so, they began handing out pink cards that read in Chinese and English: "We are Americans. Our children were adopted from China and we have returned to visit China because we want our children to be proud of their Chinese heritage and see the beautiful country."

"I feel lucky that we get to come here. A lot of people probably don't," said adoptee Minna Pauly, 12, of Annapolis, Md. "We get to share our experiences with them. We get to show them what life's like back in the U.S."

As the American parents sought to strengthen their daughters' bonds with China, most Chinese they met were grateful the girls had moved on. Among the people the girls encountered were the women who had cared for them as orphans.

"I just hope they can have a better life," said Zhu Qinmei, the longtime nurse at the Changzhou orphanage. "As for whether they can use chopsticks well or speak Chinese, it doesn't matter. I just hope they can live a happy life."

The girls brought them scrapbooks and photographs, pieces of their lives and hobbies at home. The caregivers offered their visitors home-cooked meals and helped them try to find out where they had been abandoned.

Ms. Zhu immediately recognized Emily McNally, 11, of Germantown, Md.

"They're just like my own kids. It's like they've come back home to see us after a long journey," Ms. Zhu said. "I really miss them," she added, eyes watering. "I hope they can come back to China someday to work, so I can hear their voices and see their faces. I'm sorry I can't talk to them because of the language."

There was also a tearful reunion at the home of caregiver Wang Jianping, who recalled that Emily's sister, Mary, liked to suck her thumb but that Emily didn't. The girls, expecting a mud floor and tent, were impressed by the family's 42-inch TV set and the hot pineapple dessert. They said they felt a closeness that was hard to describe.

"I didn't really recognize her exactly, but I can feel something," Emily said later. "I feel like I've known her for a long time."


Barred from adopting

Much has changed in China since the girls were adopted.

In 1995, Changzhou had 700,000 residents; today there are nearly 4 million. The ever-present street vendors the families remember have been replaced by skyscrapers and shopping malls. The wait for babies has grown from about nine months to 11/2 years.

But another change made the trip especially emotional. Four of the five families would be unable today to adopt: In May, China barred adoption by foreigners who are single, obese, depressed, homosexual or older than 50.

"I'm a twofer. I was 51 when I adopted, and I'm a single parent," said Kristin Pauly, Minna's mother. "I feel so sad to think other mothers can't have the same blessing."

As living conditions improve and incomes grow in China, adoption patterns are changing. At the Changzhou orphanage, about 10 Chinese families adopt each year. Fewer girls are being abandoned, staff members said.

"Some Chinese parents are unable to bear children, and some of them already have one child and want to adopt another child to be a companion for the first child," said Chen Guoqing, 57, who was director of the orphanage in 1995 and retired in May.

The situation is a far cry from the late 1980s, when some Chinese were afraid that orphans would be taken to the United States so their organs could be harvested, Mr. Chen said.

"At that time, the Chinese were not so knowledgeable about foreign countries," he said. "Now, more people realize the responsibility of being parents. Birth control is also flexible in many areas, so parents don't always have to abandon their children."

Alison Staffin was found April 15, 1995, on a roadside in Luoyang town, about 22 miles east of here, and taken to the orphanage by officers from a police substation.

She and her adoptive parents searched for the Luoyang substation, but the one they found was brand new. Vice Director Xia Yiling was the only officer who had been at the old station in 1995. No one could remember Alison.

Mr. Xia offered to go through the files of abandoned babies, which dated only to 1997, and drove the family around the corner to the old substation, now shuttered.

"Usually parents abandon babies on the street, leaving a note, writing down their birth date," Mr. Xia said. "So far this year, only one or two babies have been abandoned at the station. I'm very happy to see she was adopted by a family. It's always better than staying at the institution."

In front of the old substation, her family hugged Alison. Her aunt asked whether she was happy she had been adopted.

"I like my life in America," Alison said, smiling. "I do feel very lucky, because if I hadn't been adopted, I'd still be here."