by Lindsay Evers Carroll Babcock

I still remember the drive to Des Moines, IA to pick up my new baby brother, a 13-month-old from Korea who I had never met, but longed to hold for the first time. Or when I looked at the picture of a little girl — my sister — and wondered how much longer we would have to wait for her! I remember knowing right away that these children belonged with us, and that I was blessed to call them my family.

Zion (far left) with Uncle Mathew and Aunt Taylor. Zion's prayers at night help Holt's waiting children find families of their own! Thank you to Zion and her family for their prayers and support!

In March 2011, my husband and I decided to pursue two beautiful babies we had seen on Holt’s waiting child photolisting. As a family, we prayed constantly for them! We put their picture on our refrigerator and their beautiful faces even graced the screens of our computers. We petitioned God on their behalf that they would find their forever families, be it us or not. So when we got the news that we were not the family chosen for them, heartbreak would stand to reason. However, that was not what we felt. We felt joy that God had answered our prayers and that their heartbreak would soon end through the love of a family they could call their own! We still felt like God had given us that experience for a reason, and we knew that the love we felt for them was not in vain or without merit. We then considered another child on the photolisting, and started praying for him. Shortly after, we saw that he too had been adopted.

I thought, “Lord, why are you giving me this love for these children, but they are never meant to be my family?”  Whenever I am going through something hard, all I want is my family to pray for me. I felt like God was saying, “Who will be the family that prays and pleads for these children?” This is what adoption is all about is it not — to love someone despite relation and to long for something better for them? I remember thinking, “We will be that family for these children, Lord!”

We began showing our daughter Zion, who at the time was only 3 years old, the pictures of the children on the photolisting, and telling her about the needs of a child waiting for a family. My husband and I would explain to her that an orphan has no mommy or daddy to hold them and kiss them. We told her how thankful she should be that God had given her a family who loves her so much! We told her that God wants us to pray for those who don’t have that yet.

I remember when I showed her a picture of a child with a cleft palette.  She started to cry because she was afraid his nose was going to fall off. I quickly ran into the bathroom, grabbed a mirror and showed it to her. I asked her if she thought she was beautiful, and she said “yes!” Then I lifted her little lip up to her nose and asked her, “When you look like this, do you still want to love other people and know that they love you too?” She said yes. Then she quickly found a little girl on the list who had no arms. She placed her arms behind her back and looked into the mirror. Then she yelled with excitement “ Momma, I am still Zion, and I am still beautiful inside and out!”

It gave me such joy to see this little girl realize such an important lesson at such a young age. It is just like Grandma Holt said, “Every child is beautiful when they are loved!” Now she really knows that. From that day on, her passion for the children waiting for their families has grown. She started to ask to see the lists at night when we tuck her in and say our prayers. We began to give the kids nicknames so we knew who she wanted to pray for that night. When she asks for, “the little boy who likes to take baths, and says ya ya a lot,” we now know she is asking to pray for “Owie.”

Her dad and I love to hear her say, “Ok, and what can this baby not do?” She never says, “What’s wrong with this baby?” We know that nothing is “wrong” with them! All children have been fearfully and wonderfully made exactly the way God wanted them to be made! We now know many children’s likes, dislikes and special needs, and we go to God every night and ask Him that someone would see how beautiful they really are and make them their family. But until then we will be their “praying family.” Our dream is that one day we will be able to be that family that the banner across a little boy or girls picture refers to, but until that day comes, we know that this is what God has called us to do! Oh, and our daughter’s last request to God is always, “Please give them a family who tucks them in at night too!” Because even she knows that missing out on those little things is what makes their waiting so hard.

November is National Adoption Month! How will you celebrate? Help us change the conversation this November by advocating and praying for Holt’s Waiting Children.

Every week day during November, Holt will feature a special waiting child on Holt’s blog. Repost the child’s story to your friends and family, print prayer cards to guide prayers for the featured children, and download a bulletin insert to share with your church.

Click here to see other ways you can get involved this November!

by Stacee Ballback

Whenever anybody asks me to explain how my last name is Ballback, why I can’t speak a word of Korean, or how I have two very Caucasian parents when I am very clearly Asian, my answer is always the same, “I was adopted.” The keyword here is “was.”

I never realized that I answered their questions in the past tense until I started noticing that other fellow adoptees answered the same questions, “I am adopted.” It made me realize that being adopted never felt like a state of being for me or like an all-encompassing aspect of my life. Instead, it felt like a single moment early in my life with a definite starting and ending point that happened and then was over. I don’t think that being an adopted child is so easy for everyone; I think some people are forever haunted by their adoption and it stays with them as a reminder throughout their lives that they were unwanted and unloved. I don’t see myself as unloved because I was given up; I see it as an ultimate act of sacrifice and love on my birth mother’s behalf because she wanted a better life for me then she could have provided me with.

A lot of people ask me how old I was and how I felt when my parents first told me that I was adopted, and in all honesty, I can’t remember where, when, what or how they told me. I think part of this lack of a traumatic “ah-ha” moment is due to the fact that I do not look anything like either of my parents. I think when I was young and before I could really understand adoption, I was searching for ways that my mother and I were alike. I remember walking through a parking lot with her on our usual In-n-Out and grocery shopping Sundays (a tradition I still enjoy to this day) and telling her that we looked alike because we both had dark hair. For me, finding out where I came from was more of a gradual discovery process that my parents eased me into, as opposed to a single shocking moment of realization that some adopted children may experience.

But I really think the main reason for this distress-free process is mostly a testament to the wonderful and natural job my parents did of raising me and communicating with me about where I came from. I never felt like I didn’t belong right where I was, and I hardly felt the need to search for my birth parents because I had already been planted in such a warm and loving family. When I was younger, I think my adoption troubled me. I wanted to know who my birth mother was, and I wanted to know why she had given me up.  As I got older and more capable of comprehending everything, I realized that being adopted was the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

I’m not trying to say that being adopted has not impacted me or that it is an insignificant aspect of my life in anyway, I’m only trying to emphasize that I do not see being adopted as who I am, but rather a part of who I am. I am very content and well assimilated into the American ‘cheeseburger and French fries’ way of life I grew up knowing, and I have my family to thank for this. Of course my adoption plays a large role in the person I am today and probably has a more significant role on a subconscious level, but I think that I am just very happy and grateful for the hand that I was dealt and the perfect childhood I was blessed with from my family. I don’t view my adoption as a dark cloud over my life or a taboo topic, because I grew up with parents that talked openly about it with me and constantly told me they were the luckiest parents in the world. In reality though, my brothers and I are the lucky ones, after all we basically won the lottery of life.

***I want to disclose that my mom didn’t ask me to write this. I wrote it because I’ve spent a lot of time at home this summer watching and listening to her passion and enthusiasm for telling our story.

I wrote it for her and my dad because I know how much they treasure my brothers and me. They both do so much for us that I wanted to do something meaningful for them and I know that writing this will mean more than any material gift I could ever give to them.

Visit Jane’s post adoption blog here

by Susan Soonkeum Cox, Vice President of Policy and External Affairs

Saturday, September 22, 2011. Approximately 300 people gathered in Eugene to celebrate the 80th birthday of Dr. David H. Kim. Many of the guests were first generation adoptees coming from around the country. Some call themselves the “first wavers,” indicating they were the first wave of children who came to the U.S. to their adoptive families.

I first met David Kim in Korea when I was 4 years old. He remembers that I was a little girl with a round face, sad eyes and hair that had been dyed coal black to make me look more Korean. My hair was in the process of growing out, and David recalls that the grow-outs “looked like there was a saucer on [my] head.”

I knew David before I knew my mother and father. It was David who helped to fill in the blanks of my history that began in Korea, a history that was unknown to me. When I was growing up, I saw David a number of times, and his warm and generous personality was always a comfort to me.

One of the most important blessings of my years at Holt has been to work with David, a wonderful teacher, mentor and friend. His vision and commitment are contagious, and it’s an honor to follow as he has led through adversity, challenges and victories on behalf of children.

Much of what I believe about adoption and advocacy I learned from David. I’ve listened to him talk with passion about the needs of children and our responsibility to respond – and to respond with urgency. I’ve often heard David say, “If children have to wait until adults and governments agree on what should be done, the children will have white whiskers. They can’t wait.”

David has pioneered motherland tours, heritage camps and the commitment to acknowledge the importance of culture and heritage for adoptees. He was a powerful and forceful advocate during the drafting of the Hague Convention on adoption, teaching that the life-long issues of adoption should be considered a priority.

I am not alone in my regard for David Kim. Over the years, he has personally touched the lives of many of us. For those adoptees who have not had the good fortune to know David personally, you should know that your life has been graced by his life, by his efforts on your behalf. In a small way, we are all a legacy to the devotion and compassion of this extraordinary man.

Happy Birthday, David Kim.

by David VanArsdale

David with his parents, James and Rebekah, and sister, Stephanie

When you’re a traveler, you meet “interesting” people. I put that word in quotes, because if you’ve been backpacking before, you know that “interesting” can mean just about anything.  During my recent journey through Southeast Asia, I would sometimes wonder, “What’s interesting about me?” Compared to some of the characters I met, I didn’t think I was that special.  I met a minimalist traveler; he only owned 40 things and all of them were in his backpack.  I met a celiac traveler; he was on a mission to show how easy it is to travel, even if you’re allergic to wheat. I met a crazy traveler; he had thrown a grenade at a cow in Cambodia.  And then there was plain, old me — “Hi, I’m David and I’m from the U.S.”. Not that cool.  But what I’ve come to realize is that you don’t need to have “a thing.” Traveling is personal.  We all travel for our own reasons, even if we’re not aware of them at the time. And that’s why I’m writing this article — to tell you why this trip was an especially interesting trip for me.  I was adopted from Seoul and this was my first time back in Asia. And that is kind of a big deal.

As a Korean adoptee, there have been times when I didn’t feel like I belonged in America.  This sense of belonging is something I’ve thought about my entire life — as do most adopted children. That said, it would help to cover my background.

In 1985, I was adopted when I was 4 months old by my loving parents. I grew up in a nice suburban town in Hunterdon County, New Jersey. My sister (also a Holt adoptee) and I were a few of the only minorities in town. My grammar school was predominately white. My high school was predominately white. By predominately white, I mean that if someone said, “He’s Asian…”, that was enough to identify me. And yes, I attended Gettysburg College, which is also predominantly white.  Excuse me if I’m making this sound negative, because I don’t mean to. I love my teachers, friends, and family. I love my grammar school, my high school, my college. I was treated like any other person — it made no difference what I looked like and that’s how it should be. But let’s be real, I stood out. Throughout life, I’ve been very conscious of the fact that I was the only Asian person in the entire room. Not uncomfortable, just aware. So this made traveling in Asia a little more “interesting,” because somewhere in me was that little kid who remembered sitting in an all white classroom thinking, “Do I really fit in here?”

In October 2010, I quit my job to pursue my dream of traveling independently and chose Southeast Asia because it’s notoriously backpacker friendly. One of the things I was curious about was how it would feel to be surrounded by people who looked similar to me. It was an experience I had never truly had before.  Looking back, I was naïve in thinking that I would immediately bond with someone simply because I shared some of their physical features.

After an hour on a bus or a train or a boat in Southeast Asia, I would look around — all Asian people. Everyone in their own conversations, in their own worlds. But I didn’t feel any more connected to them than if I were on a bus at home with all white people. Somewhere in my head, I thought that being in an Asian country, surrounded by all of its culture, would make me feel more comfortable — to me, it didn’t.

People would come up to me and start speaking in Thai, Cambodian or Vietnamese, and I would have to politely say that I only spoke English. Situations like these are a little awkward.  One time, I was on a sleeper train in a cabin with three Vietnamese men. Even though they could only speak broken English, we were making decent conversation. I thought I’d try to explain my background and it reminded me how complex adoption can sound: “I was born in Seoul…But I’m from the America…I don’t speak Korean…My parents are white…My sister’s adopted from Korea, too…But no, she’s not my real sister. I mean she’s not my biological sister.” What a mess! They’d just do the patented tourist bale-out — the smile and nod. And I don’t blame them.

What I’m trying to say is that even at 25 years old, being adopted can be confusing. It can still feel like you’re stuck right in the middle. As a child, I certainly didn’t look similar to any of my white friends or family. And during my travels in Asia, I didn’t feel any more connected to people who looked similar to me. Yet, when I fill out any kind of form, I still mark the little checkbox that says “Asian.”

This isn’t one of those articles with a profound, happy ending.  It’s one of those articles with an honest ending — if you’re adopted, you’ll always be learning new things about yourself. Even as an adult, new questions about your background will arise. And that’s what can make your journey especially interesting.

Holt has a long history of commitment to children with special needs.  We strive to ensure that expenses are not a barrier between a child with special needs and a loving adoptive family.

This year’s Gala Dinner and Auction will raise money to support Holt’s Children with Special Needs Adoption program — helping to bring children with special needs home to their families.

A message from Jackie Miller, Gala Chair:

On Saturday September 25, 2010 the idea for an annual New Jersey Holt Gala Dinner became a reality. New Jersey Holt families had enjoyed an annual dinner in the past, but this time we were challenged with making a fun evening into a gala event. Despite a small but wonderful dinner committee, I wasn’t sure we could pull it off.

The evening was a mix of a silent auction, make a difference and live auctions. Parents, adult adoptees, community members as well as many of the Holt staff came together to make the New Jersey dinner a very  special event. We enjoyed the food, the camaraderie, and the knowledge that each of us was helping New Jersey families who had adopted a child with a special need.

Late into the evening, a committee member whispered into my ear that the evening’s proceeds were at $20,000. I was so overwhelmed by everyone’s support and generosity that it was difficult to announce it to the group.

Currently, we are in the process of planning the 2011 New Jersey Holt Gala Dinner for September 24, 2011. It will be held at the Princeton Westin. We are currently seeking dinner sponsors and donated auction items.

I would love to see everyone at the dinner in the fall!

For more information about the Holt Gala and Dinner Auction in New Jersey and to RSVP, Click here

I remember my first trip to Korea as an adult as if it were yesterday – sitting on a plane filled with Korean people, experiencing my first Korean meal as an adult (granted it was airplane food), pondering for a second what line to step into at immigration and, of course, the many experiences I had in Korea during my two-week visit.

My first journey to Korea was as a participant on a Holt heritage tour, for families and children of all ages. In 2009, I became Holt’s adult adoptee director – and began hosting a tour specifically for adult adoptees, age 21 or older. At the time, I did not realize how quickly people connect based on being an international adoptee. I’ve now hosted two Holt-Bethany Korea Adult Adoptee tours.  On both, I’ve witnessed the strong connections that develop between adoptees – strangers – visiting Korea for the first time.  Connecting to one’s culture and history is important, I’ve realized, but for many of us, not as important as the connection we feel with other adoptees. In a short time, family-like relationships develop, and when the tour is over, it is difficult to say goodbye. Our hearts ache not only to leave Korea, but for the people we’ve grown so close to and with whom we’ve shared some of the most personal experiences. We’ve laughed, cried, relied heavily on each other for support—and have even expressed frustration and anger.

When I look at photos from my first trip to Korea, I wonder what the other people on our trip are doing now. Some I keep in contact with and others have become memories through the photos. However, I feel a deep connection with everyone, even those I haven’t kept in touch with.

The connections we build on the tour last a lifetime.

A common theme runs through the posts on this year’s Holt-Bethany Korea Adult Adoptee Tour blog.   In one way or another, the participating adoptees all made connections – with Korea, with their past, and with each other.

Read excerpts from their posts below:

Coming Home

May 25, 2011

Post by Amy Patterson, adopted in 1971, Texas

Walking through the door to Holt Korea offices, I had no idea what to expect. Although Kourtni and Sandy had prepped us for a possible emotion-filled day, I couldn’t imagine it would be too emotional for me. After all, I already knew most if not everything that was in my file, and I wasn’t one of the adoptees who planned on meeting a foster mother today. How emotional could it be?

Amy in a traditional Korean hanbok.

We were led downstairs to a meeting room and Director Kim came to the front of the room. She began by welcoming us back to Korea, and in that moment my world turned upside down.  My life began here, maybe not in this building, but right here in this spot with Holt in Seoul, Korea. Tears threaten, in this moment I belong; I have come home completely unaware that I was away all these years.  I am all of a sudden whole, never knowing that I had a sense of loss buried deep inside my heart. Today my heart is healed, I’ve come home.

As a Korean adoptee living in America, it isn’t uncommon to get the age-old question, “Where are you from?” The folks who ask aren’t looking for the answer I’m about to give. And whether out of spite or a need to feel 100% American, I never give them the answer they want. I’ll make them squirm to figure out the ‘right’ question to ask… I don’t know what I want them to say, but it looks different from “Where are you from?” My shift today changed everything. The question “Where are you from?” is now absolutely the right question, and the answer, “I’m from Korea,” feels 100% right.

Through my eyes…

May 25, 2011

Post by Matt Anderson, adopted 1983, Michigan

Matt tying a wish into the ropes of a stone pile, a Korean Folk Village tradition.

Taking the long taxi ride to a place I haven’t been to in over 27 years was surprisingly calm.  I believed I knew what was in my file and there would be no new information.  Of course I was hoping that there was something more about my past that I could connect to my mother with, but if there wasn’t, that wouldn’t be the end of the world…

The social worker said she had some updates for me.  First it was about my foster mother, who was unable to meet with me, but really wishes she was able to…

Then the stunner came, they had an update about my mother.  Coming into this tour I did not want them to find her.  I had all sorts of emotions in my head and heart about looking for her, but in the end I decided I didn’t want to look for her at this time.  When I explained to the social worker I didn’t want to see my mother, she was shocked.  But since she knew, I asked her what the information was.  Unfortunately, my birth mother denied ever having a baby in 1983 (the year of my birth).  My heart sank.  As a matter of fact that was the last thing I wanted to hear.

The social worker then explained that once denying having a baby, there was no more she could do since the mother would not cooperate…

The rest of the day I was in a fog.  And to be honest, two days later I still am.  However, I’m really lucky that my roommate on the tour was here for me last night and listened to me, and when he explained his story I realized I was not alone.   I don’t know what I would have done had I just gone to bed without talking to him and I’ll forever be eternally grateful for him listening to me.  I also have to thank my parents who I called immediately the next morning and listened to me and cried with me.  I don’t know what I would do without the strength of my parents who have been supportive of me my entire life.

One night later speaking with more adoptees (and their husbands) was also great, because we all listened to each other and while we all are in similar situations, they still are different.  However no matter what those differences are, I knew they were there for me and would listen and be supportive.  I don’t think I would have been able to do this search on my own, without the support of the fellow adoptees (and of course their husbands)…

Tears, hugs, love and lots of kimchi!

May 26, 2011

Posted by Bethany Ankerson, adopted March 1988, Wyoming

Bethany with her foster mother.

The last few days here have been so full of emotions. Emotions that I hadn’t known were hidden deep within my heart. The group of people I am with, who I now call my friends, have been incredible. Together we have experienced so much in the last few days, together we have shed many tears, and together we have shared the joy of coming back to the land of our birthplace.

Tuesday we went to Holt’s office and those of us who were adopted through Holt reviewed our files with a social worker. In the beginning we watched a brief film about the history of Harry and Bertha Holt. Once it began and the speaker went on to talk about adoption and the hope children have for their future through adoption, this brought forth tears from me. I cried because I am a product of this hope, a living testimony because of my adoption. A very emotional time for most of us there…

And then my visit with my foster mother was so much different than I had ever expected. Upon seeing me, she was hysterical. Crying, hugging, smiling, and talking. Just her way of hugging me felt like I had known her forever. And instantly I felt a connection with this person who cared for me as an infant. One of the first questions I asked her was if she remembered me. To which she replied, “Yes, of course I do!” After awhile we left the office and ate lunch together with our group and the other adoptees who had brought their foster mothers along too. Looking back at our meeting was far more important than I realized. She told me that she had cared for one to three hundred babies through foster care and that I was the first baby to come back and visit her. Experiencing the joy of her seeing me, and seeing the happiness on her face was precious. I am so thankful meeting her was made possible.

Blessed Since Birth!

May 27, 2011

Posted by Sabrina Gatton, adopted in 1972, Ohio

Sabrina (right) in Korean cooking class.

Wow, it still seems so very surreal to be in the country of my birth.  I realize more and more how very blessed my life has been thanks to many people, but in the beginning, to Harry and Bertha Holt who began Holt adoptions in Korea in 1955.  It was emotional to see their gravesite.  During our time at Holt, I remembered a picture of Bertha Holt and myself many years ago and to see in person the work she started is wonderful.

I had always been told I was from Seoul, but during my birth search for this trip, I was given the name of another city:  Anyang.  I went there yesterday in hopes of finding out more.  We went to the county office and I thought that was the office from years ago, however, after speaking through a wonderful translator to a staff member, I found out more.  I asked him if he knew of anyone who may have been in the town in the early ‘70s.  Right away he called a man who had been here.  While we waited for the man to arrive, the staff member brought out a picture book of the town and showed me a picture of the county office back in the ‘70s, which is the office I was taken to by an unknown lady.  Seeing that picture brought tears for sure.  I had hopes of seeing things back then, but didn’t expect it so soon.  Once the man arrived to the county office I asked him if he knew about the dairy farm/church I had been found at and he said he did.  The farm/church are gone now, but he knew the location and we were off and running to see the area.  It is now a market.  We also saw the previous county office where my county office may have been located and it is now a nursing home, which made me laugh a little since I work in a nursing home.  What a wonderful day to finally be able to see where I came from.

Thank you Harry and Bertha Holt, Holt International and Bethany for putting this tour together. Memories to treasure for a lifetime for sure.

To read more blog entries from the Holt-Bethany Korea Adult Adoptee Tour, visit:

http://adultadopteetour.wordpress.com/2011-holt-bethany-adult-adoptee-tour-journey-to-korea/

Birthdate: October, 2002, Africa

by Ashli Keyser, Managing Editor

I just read through Jamie’s bio on Holt’s Waiting Child photolisting. She’s 8 years old and lives in Africa. I’m often drawn to the cute, endearing qualities in the children’s bios — the qualities that make each child unique and special.

Jamie loves to sing. Most children do. But Jamie likes to sing gospel music, in particular. I smile at this little detail and think of gospel songs Jamie might know. This thought takes me back to my Sunday school days…..

I’m 4 years old, standing on the edge of a church stage and wearing a pretty blue, flowered dress. My hair is curled and in a ponytail. I’m short. The height of the stage only adds to my nervousness. Fifteen other children stand with me, waiting to sing. Having practiced this song many times, I shouldn’t be nervous. But I am. I hear the piano start. Unsure of myself, I slowly scan the audience and find two familiar faces – my mom and dad. We lock eyes. They smile at me, and I smile back. The nerves quickly dissipate as I start to sing…..

“Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to Him belong, they are weak, but He is strong.”

With my parent’s love, their smiles and encouragement, I confidently make it through the song.

I think back to Jamie’s love of gospel music and wonder if she’s ever been taught this popular and universal Sunday school song. Maybe she sings it in Luganda, her native language…. ay yah gah lahn zeh, ay yah gah lahn zeh, ay yah gah lahn zeh, Yayogera bw’atyo.” Maybe she doesn’t know it yet, and needs a family to teach it to her.

Today, Jamie sings to her friends and caretakers. She sings to these special people in her life because, at nine months old, Jamie was abandoned by her parents and brought to a Holt care center. Her parents weren’t around to teach her the songs she has grown to love. They weren’t around to listen to Jamie sing for them.

Because she was abandoned at such a young age, not much is known about Jamie’s past.

But today Jamie’s life is much different. Jamie is a friendly and happy child who loves to smile and laugh.  Her caretakers say she is responsible and driven.  She can count, say her alphabet and identify body parts, all of which she does by singing songs, of course. Jamie loves to play outside and makes friends easily. She loves her friends, and they love her, as do her caretakers.

And just as the classic children’s song says, Jesus loves Jamie too. God has a plan for Jamie….and you can be part of that plan. Maybe you aren’t Jamie’s future parents, but maybe someone you know has been praying for a child like Jamie. Share her story with them. And pray that the perfect family comes for her soon.

Jamie needs a family to teach her new things – teach her new words and new songs. She needs a family to listen to her sing, and to give her confidence when she does sing.

So that maybe, one day, she too can stand on a stage, look out into the audience and see loving, familiar faces – her mom and dad, smiling and cheering her on as she starts to sing……

“…. ay yah gah lahn zeh, ay yah gah lahn zeh ….Yes, Jesus Loves Me…. For the Bible tells me so.”

We know that Jesus loves Jamie. And somewhere, we know, a family is waiting to love her too. Let’s help bring them together.

Click here to read more about Jamie and the requirements to adopt her.

Contact Erin Mower at erinm@holtinternational.org for more information.

What did you do prior to joining Holt?

I was a camp director for another camp, a church camp.  I started that job right after I graduated from college and did that for five years.  I was looking for another camp director position and that’s what led me to Holt, in January of 2005.

What’s your educational background?

I have a bachelor’s in education and a master’s in social work.

Why did you decide to pursue a camp director position instead of a teaching position?

I think the camp environment is a very powerful environment.  I think I have a better platform for creating the kind of learning environment I want for children in camping than in education.  I have more creative license.

Did you grow up going to camp?

I didn’t go to any camps period as a kid.  The Holt Midwest Camp didn’t even exist when I was growing up.

You have said that the need for a strong adoptee community guides your advocacy work at Holt.  Growing up, did you struggle to find an adoptee community?

My sisters are adopted.  But there wasn’t a community of adoptees around me.  I don’t think an adoptee community really even exists.  That’s the whole purpose of my work.

How do you envision creating an adoptee community?

First, we need to establish an adoptee identity.  We need to allow people to identify as adopted – to have that as an option in addition to Asian or Black or Latino.

Do you feel there’s too much emphasis placed on race?

No, I think there’s too much emphasis placed on the birth culture experience.  Racial background doesn’t get enough emphasis.  Historically, adoptees have been identified with their birth culture; “Korean adoptee” is typical.  Birth culture isn’t satisfying for adoptees for explaining why they are different.  It is until they are 4 or 5 years old, but then birth culture as presented and prioritized for them does not give enough rationale for why they are different.  As they grow older, they require a more complex explanation.

My work here has really shined the spotlight on this as an area that could really use addressing.

How have you shaped Holt camps to address these issues and meet the needs of young adoptees?

The camp program is designed around the adoptee experience.  Activities revolve around adoption, identity, race and racism, birth parents and birth search.  These are changes I introduced in 2006.  In 2005, during my first year, it was still the old system of birth culture.  It wasn’t working for me, or the kids.

The predominant model of adoptee camp still revolves around a birth culture and ethnic heritage approach.  Ours is the only camp that focuses on the adoptee experience.

How else has camp changed over the past 6 years?

We’ve really tried to bring parents into the fold by offering day camp and closing day activities.  That provides them with an education and orientation to the program.

Describe a typical day at camp.

A vast majority of the camp is taken up by games, swimming, typical outdoor activities.  We have two activities a day – one in the morning and one in the evening – that focus on adoptee issues.  Generally, we use activities that allow them to think about how others see them and how they see themselves.

What is your role at camp?

I’m just there to make sure the program’s running smoothly.  I do facilitate some of the curriculum discussions.

What do you hope campers will gain from the experience – and that maybe you missed out on growing up?

I want the campers to understand that they are not alone in their adoption story and experience. I never really felt alone in my experience as kid.  But it’s something that I never had the chance to talk about growing up.  I think there are thousands of kids like me experiencing similar situations.

You never talked about adoption with your two adopted siblings?

No, we never talked about it.  We’re finding a lot of sibling groups not talking to each other.  They really need their peers.

As a post-adoption services social worker, you also help adoptees with birth search counseling and accessing background information.  That’s a very important role …

Basically, I end up being a listening ear for adoptees who are searching or are being searched for.  I allow them to grieve or feel whatever they are feeling.

Do you ever share your own experience as an adoptee?

If they ask me, sure.

While working at Holt, you’re also pursuing a PhD in Social Work and Social Research focusing on adoptee community empowerment models.  What does that mean?

My focus has been about trying to better understand why adoptees are having such a difficult time being heard.  I am trying to raise the level of importance adoptee experience plays in adoption practice.

The camps have driven a lot of what I study.  They’re a great model of adoptee empowerment and organizing.

So your work at Holt has really aided your graduate research.  How has what you’ve learned at camp informed Holt’s other services to children and families?

Every year we learn from kids what they want and what they need.  What we’re learning at camp is changing how we run camp.  What we learn at camp is also changing parent education – the Parents in Process curriculum.

Camp offers a wealth of data and information.  There’s a lot of potential.

Steve (right) with Holt's youth adoptee services coordinator, Michael Tessier, at last year's day camp in Oregon.