Rhoda and Esther

A lot of fuss has dusted up over the Orphan movie and how it must be hard to love an adopted child as much as your own. I think it must be. I could never do it, not to say others with larger hearts couldn’t. I just know my limits.

Apparently, the comment made in the trailer has inflamed many an adoptive parent. Which I can understand, I mean it is inflammatory, the premise of the movie is capitalizing on the suspicion being of uncertain origins. It is exploiting a vulnerable population, abandoned children for some fairly unwholesome gain. It is taking all the snide remarks made quietly about adoptive families and showcasing them.

Who likes that?

Some adult adoptees want to get Orphan t-shirts, watch the movie and cheer Esther on at each dastardly deed. I have mixed feelings. While I might go along for the fun of it, while I totally agree with the hypocrisy of getting up in arms about a stupid Hollywood movie while remaining apathetic in the face of a much more real crime, that of sealing our birth certificates, I mean what kind of message does that send? Who you are is such an awful shock to polite society that it must be sealed and never looked upon again? Your origins are not unlike the ark in Indiana Jones, everyone’s face will melt-off and we will all die in agony, should we look upon the horror of well, of the real you, the secret you, that you must always pretend doesn’t exist or matter.

I mean honestly. My mother has pointed out to me too, that sealed records hurt mothers for the same reason. If it was such a great decision, made out of love, why is it dealt with so shamefully?

You know sealed records, while some albeit very few adoptive parents do work very hard for adoptee rights, most are not inspired or moblized to do anything about it . No doubt if you queried the lamenters and wailers about the orphan movie–they wouldn’t even recognize the irony.

My first thought when I saw the trailer was that Esther would be for a whole new generation, what little Rhoda of “The Bad Seed” fame was for me.

That was the movie that really explained why adoption was to me at around age seven. I wore pinafores, I had braided hair, I had uncertain origins which could very well be evil. I still remember sitting cross-legged in front of our big white zenith, on the white tile that that paved our t.v. room watching the scent where it is revealed that adoption unravels the mystery of Rhoda’s misanthropy. I remember thinking, “just as I suspected” however a child of my age would phrase that. Despite the fact I hadn’t killed anyone, had not even thought of killing anyone and would be plagued with guilt if I thought the car’s feelings were hurt. (I once called the car stupid, and had to sit with it for an entire afternoon trying to comfort it and apologize)

It was something I just internalized deeply, wholly, secretly. I never spoke to anyone about it, until I was well into my 30s and then only to other adoptees.

I mean we adults can laugh about it, laugh about Esther and Rhoda, but children live in a very different world than we do. In my world as a child, all things were sentient. Cars needed comfort, but then again, I grew up in a world of talking dune buggys and motorcycles.

“The Bad Seed” answered the questions about my adoption I was too afraid to ask. It answered the questions about my willfullness, my clumsyness, my “not getting itness” because I couldn’t quite decipher the behavior around me or how to get in line. It wasn’t even a popular movie when I was a child, I doubt many of my peers had seen it at the time, after all it wasn’t animated, and kids didn’t watch that much t.v. when I was little. I was born in the days, where children still went outside to play.

Esther though, will get more play with the younger crowd, her tag line will strike a chord in young adopted hearts the world over. She will give their school mates more ammunition.

It just makes me feel sad and resigned. Sad for all those children, but resigned because the stigma and suspicion are part of the adoptee experience, it is part of the “loving” choice made on our behalf, and if they don’t learn about it now, they will learn about it later.