Another article here:

http://www.mamazine.com/Pages/feature62.html

Interesting.. I'd wondered the same about cultural camps – not exactly a contemporary look at the culture.

Like language lessons, I guess some kids are going to hate them, some are going to love them, and some are going to hate them, but appreciate them later, especially if they want to go back to their birth country at some stage. 

The only parallel I can draw in my own life is that I'm still pissed my parents never made me play the piano.  My ex is still pissed his folks refused to pay for guitar lessons because his older sister had begun the piano, hated it and given up.  A weak analogy, I know.

I think I'm really overthinking this whole thing.  Each kid is different, so there is no RIGHT answer to how much cultural exposure you should involve a child in.  I'm trying to apply a one-size-fits-all approach to an individual.  There are no guidelines entitled "Top 10 things to do for your transracially adopted child to help them become perfectly well adjusted and not hate you for removing them from their culture".   I guess I'm just really cognizant of the fact that my choices may profoundly affect somebody's life, and I want to get it RIGHT for them, damn it!

I've also been thinking more about the anger many of the adoptees have.  I'm trying to understand it. 

I remember my first encounter of sexism after growing up in a pretty much non-sexist environment.  I got a job working as an Assistant Accountant.  There was another assistant accountant there, a guy, two of us doing the same job.  I remember my first day, when I was asked to take over the coffee-making and the typing.  I remember how absolutely furious I was.  How offended I was.  How insulted and belittled I felt.  I had never experienced anything like it before and it was absolutely shocking to me… I started reading alot fo feminist literature and I became very, very, angry.  I used to carry around a can of black spray paint on the car, and when I saw a sexist billboard (and there seemed to be a rash of them at the time) I would jump out of the car and spray paint clothing on the women who were being degradingly portrayed as sex-objects. (Much to the chagrin of my friends and relatives.)  I felt *dehumanised*.

I can only guess at the additional dimension racism and adoption would add to the mix, and as much as I want to, as much as I see that anger as more than valid, raw, I can no more on an experiential level understand it than my male friends could understand my reaction to scantily clad women on billboards.

So here I sit, a blue-eyed blonde who will probably piss off her kids just like all of the mothers gone before her.

Welcome to parenthood.