Prompt #3 Reflect on a time when you challenged a belief or idea. What prompted you to act? Would you make the same decision again?
(I am just wondering if there can be any improvements to my essay?) - Thanks, David.
Searching through the box of my family's old documents, trying to find my dad's U.S. Resident Alien documentations, I stumbled upon a folder that caught my attention. On the front it was dated 06-20-1997 in big red ink, the date of my birthday. I was really curious to what was inside it. Maybe it was filled with those baby pictures of me that I have never seen before. Overwhelmed by my curiosity, I decided to take a peek inside and the first paper that I saw was boldly titled Certificate of Adoption-that couldn't be real I thought. I hastily yanked the paper out of the folder and started reading it word-by-word. And soon enough after reading the line "issued for David Thao by The State of Minnesota", I came to a point of realization that this was real.
I was in shock, disoriented, and in a state of denial. My mom was right next to my side, searching through the rest of the family documents, unaware of my unintentional discovery. I handed her the folder and asked, stuttering as I said it, "Is this real?" Surprised, my mom immediately reached out for me and hugged me tightly as I started to cry and whimper. She said to me in a calm tone, "We aren't your real parents David, we adopted you". I can feel the blood rushing away from my brain, my body becoming numb as she said it. She held me in her arms until I settled down and then began telling me everything about my adoption-reasons as to why I was adopted, my birth mother and father, and my stay in the orphanage for the first year and a half of my life-and how she was never able to have kids of her own. But my mom assured me at the end that although we are not related by blood we are still a family regardless.
It was difficult for me to accept the fact that I was adopted. I have grown up being told by my relatives that I was my parents' biological son. I was Hmong just like my parents. Although that is part of why I had such difficulty with coming to terms with my adoption, the main reason was my deeply held belief in the "ideal" family. For much of my childhood I have been exposed to media and images that portrayed the perfect family as consisting of a husband, a wife, and of course, a child by birth. I can recall watching a Hmong-made movie in which adoption was almost totally stigmatized in the culture. To be told that I was adopted meant the collapse of my ideal family and that I was an "unwanted" child as shown in the movie.
Which brings me back to what my mom said to me those years ago back in 8th grade: "Although we may not be related by blood, remember that you will always be my son, regardless".This saying, while simple in its context, was a struggle for me to grasp over these years. But now I can understand, having finally discarded my old belief in which I used to constitute a family. For me now, an ideal family doesn't mean you have to be related biologically-by blood and genetics-but rather the ideal family is composed of the people who have raised you and cared for you, and of those who love you unconditionally. And that is what I have with my parents. I am grateful to have my ideal family.
(I am just wondering if there can be any improvements to my essay?) - Thanks, David.
Searching through the box of my family's old documents, trying to find my dad's U.S. Resident Alien documentations, I stumbled upon a folder that caught my attention. On the front it was dated 06-20-1997 in big red ink, the date of my birthday. I was really curious to what was inside it. Maybe it was filled with those baby pictures of me that I have never seen before. Overwhelmed by my curiosity, I decided to take a peek inside and the first paper that I saw was boldly titled Certificate of Adoption-that couldn't be real I thought. I hastily yanked the paper out of the folder and started reading it word-by-word. And soon enough after reading the line "issued for David Thao by The State of Minnesota", I came to a point of realization that this was real.
I was in shock, disoriented, and in a state of denial. My mom was right next to my side, searching through the rest of the family documents, unaware of my unintentional discovery. I handed her the folder and asked, stuttering as I said it, "Is this real?" Surprised, my mom immediately reached out for me and hugged me tightly as I started to cry and whimper. She said to me in a calm tone, "We aren't your real parents David, we adopted you". I can feel the blood rushing away from my brain, my body becoming numb as she said it. She held me in her arms until I settled down and then began telling me everything about my adoption-reasons as to why I was adopted, my birth mother and father, and my stay in the orphanage for the first year and a half of my life-and how she was never able to have kids of her own. But my mom assured me at the end that although we are not related by blood we are still a family regardless.
It was difficult for me to accept the fact that I was adopted. I have grown up being told by my relatives that I was my parents' biological son. I was Hmong just like my parents. Although that is part of why I had such difficulty with coming to terms with my adoption, the main reason was my deeply held belief in the "ideal" family. For much of my childhood I have been exposed to media and images that portrayed the perfect family as consisting of a husband, a wife, and of course, a child by birth. I can recall watching a Hmong-made movie in which adoption was almost totally stigmatized in the culture. To be told that I was adopted meant the collapse of my ideal family and that I was an "unwanted" child as shown in the movie.
Which brings me back to what my mom said to me those years ago back in 8th grade: "Although we may not be related by blood, remember that you will always be my son, regardless".This saying, while simple in its context, was a struggle for me to grasp over these years. But now I can understand, having finally discarded my old belief in which I used to constitute a family. For me now, an ideal family doesn't mean you have to be related biologically-by blood and genetics-but rather the ideal family is composed of the people who have raised you and cared for you, and of those who love you unconditionally. And that is what I have with my parents. I am grateful to have my ideal family.
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