Trying to be Human 101: Passivity in Sacrifice

Trying to be Human 101 digs into human experience and how it effects adoption. Previously I discussed the nature of dignity and provided an excerpt from Jim Gritter's Life Givers. This is the second of several posts within the Trying to be Human 101 series discussing sacrifice.

Sacrifice is a transaction. Typically there is social contract that accompanies sacrifices. When one makes a sacrifice, the belief is the loss will allow that need to be addressed appropriately. An example of this might be a person who takes an additional shift at work, sacrificing time with loved ones, to make more money for living expenses. Because choice is involved the sacrificer can bring their personal power to bear in the situation, thus giving them a sense of control. The weight of the sacrifice can be compared to the need calling for it. Judgement can be made including rational and emotional experiences and a choice is made. But what happens when the tables turn? What if the choice to make a sacrifice is illusory? All too often a sacrifice is made but the perceived contract is not fulfilled. Instead the sacrificer, upon losing their prized subject (be it a relationship, item, situation, or idea), feels powerless and no closer to fulfilling the need that drove the sacrifice in the first place. This experience is all too common in adoption.

I believe this sudden shift of experience is symptomatic of a disturbing reality; birthparents are sacrificed in adoption. This is not always true, but it happens with troubling frequency. The relationship between sacrificer and sacrificed can be subtle and murky, especially when the sacrifices are relationships. Other times it is blatant, as with most international adoptions. The birthparent, rather than making a sacrifice on behalf of their child, is sacrificed. The reason for the sacrifice varies. Sometimes the parent is sacrificed in order to fulfill the adoptive families need for a child to parent. Often the birthfamily is sacrificed in far subtler ways.

A birthparent is most often sacrificed on the alter of social expectation. The birthparent becomes the sacrifice necessary to blot out the apparent sin of conceiving a child in less than ideal circumstances. This ties in directly with the Splendid Doormat. In order to attain social acceptability the first family must sacrifice all claim, personal rights, worth, and dignity in order to achieve a semi-saint status. Once sainted the first family can then, and only then, be considered redeemed from the disgrace of adoption.

This may seem a little far fetched or that I'm dramatizing the point. In reality I'm soft-pedaling this one. A bit of study in art history and especially in film history shows how prevalent these themes are. The hoops for redemption must be jumped through and none of them can be skipped or exchanged. Breaking social mores requires drastic action for redemption, if one can be redeemed at all.

 In the case of adoption the process of sacrifice can be either; humbling but important, or destructive and horrible. The way we describe the key difference in English is with voice. In active voice, "I sacrifice", I am making choices and am directly involved in the path of that sacrifice. Though I make a sacrifice I still have some degree of control. In passive voice, "I am sacrificed", I have no say. I have lost the ability to apply my will to the process. Instead I become an element of sacrifice, not an active participant. In adoptions it is extremely dangerous to alloy anyone to sacrifice anyone else. To do so is to strip a person of their humanity. To be sacrificed is to be told one has no say in their future, no right to express personal needs, and no expectation these experiences will change. This might sound familiar.

Even in adoptions where all the adults respect one another and behave with emotional/relational integrity, the adoptee may still feel they have been sacrificed. Obviously no one wants this to be the case. An overwhelming majority of parents want their children to feel loved. This means sacrifices are made on their behalf, but they are not sacrificed themselves. Unfortunately, in adoption, no one can predict how the adoptee will feel about his/her circumstances.

I believe, despite the best of intentions, if an adoptee feels s/he has been sacrificed in their adoption, they have. No one has the right to say otherwise. Parents, where ever they fall on the biology/care continuum, may feel they have done everything right and have nothing to apologize for. But the best intentions cannot countermand the emotional reality of a child. If the adoptee feels s/he was sacrificed it's true. The only thing for a parent to do is face that reality head on and try to pick up the pieces.

When all goes well no one is sacrificed. Instead everyone in the adoption will make sacrifices to support one another. With this mutual support everyone's needs and experiences are respected.
I wish everyone in adoption had this experience. But when it does go wrong, as it can so quickly, telling a person her/his emotional experience is "wrong" only deepens the depersonalization. It is not possible to undo mistakes, but some can be avoided through careful attention. In adoption applying our integrity and compassion to our decisions will help avoid most of these problems. With that in mind it's possible to make an adoption something that really is beautiful. That happens when the sacrifices made are respected and celebrated for being exactly what they are.

Trying to be Human 101: The Nature of Sacrifice

Trying to be Human 101 digs into human experience and how it effects adoption. Previously I discussed the nature of dignity and provided an excerpt from Jim Gritter's Life Givers. This is the first of several posts within the Trying to be Human 101 series.

Sacrifice is a strange concept. It is comforting to know that sacrifices are made but we don't want to get very near it. Comfort increases with distance from the individuals making sacrifices. When discussing adoption it is common to acknowledge that first families are making sacrifices. The impact those sacrifices have on adoptees is sometimes respected, but often ignored. The nature of sacrifice is left largely unexplored. If it is thought of frequently, or with depth, it is conjured into existence. Personally confronting sacrifice is an overwhelming experience. We often seek refuge by distancing ourselves from those making the sacrifices that frighten us.

It's important to understand why sacrifice is so uncomfortable. Discussing sacrifice highlights our position relative to the person making the sacrifice. There are a few different roads this can take, but most of them lead to a disconcerting feeling of selfishness or powerlessness. When discussing sacrifices made by others we often feel selfish. Mother Teresa is a good example of this experience. Compared to her work most people feel rather sheepish about their own charitable work or giving. Despite this there is also a little kick of satisfaction when  an element in our own experience is common to the saintly person. Unfortunately that satisfaction only works when there is a corollary between those experiences. If Mother Teresa cared for the sick and I volunteer to help the homeless, I can share in the good of her deeds. However, if I don't do any charitable work at all the gravity of Mother Teresa's sacrifice functions as a source of guilt. On the other hand the feeling of powerlessness comes when we identify too closely with the person forced to make a sacrifice. It's very uncomfortable to know that some people are forced to make sacrifices against their will. It may be circumstances beyond their control or direct coercion. In either case, identifying with people in these circumstances highlights lack of control in our own circumstances, and thus the possibility of being forced to make significant sacrifices ourselves.

That's why the idea of the Splendid Doormat is so appealing. The doormat who asks nothing, who needs nothing, becomes alien. We don't identify with them because they are "so strong" or "so brave" that we strip them of their humanity and their frailty. These super-sacrifices cannot be hurt the way we can. Sacrifices we can't imagine occur daily for these saints. So we don't need to reconcile our experiences with these people. We never confront the idea that these people are just like us.

Because of this we can't unpack the idea of sacrifice without personal risk. We needn't make a personal sacrifice to begin the discussion. Beginning the discussion is a sacrifice of personal security. This discussion can start if we believe the risk is for something worthwhile. That is, after all, the fundamental nature of sacrifices. Dictionary.com provides several definitions that work well to kick off the conversation:

sac·ri·fice

 [sak-ruh-fahys] Show IPA noun, verb, sac·ri·ficed, sac·ri·fic·ing.

noun

1. the offering of animal, plant, or human life or of some material possession to a deity, as in propitiation or homage.

2. the person, animal, or thing so offered.

3. the surrender or destruction of something prized or desirable for the sake of something considered as having a higher or more pressing claim.

4. the thing so surrendered or devoted.

Right there in #3 we see it. The destruction of something prized for the sake of something with a more pressing claim. Applied to adoption this paints a very stark picture of what's going on for a first family. There's no sugar coating here. Something prized is being destroyed forever. Worth never enters this conversation. This is about needs, not wants or relative values. This is an experience most sane individuals don't want to get near. Jim Gritter covers circumstances of necessity well enough I won't go over it again here. But there's something else in the definition of sacrifice that muddies the waters.

Right at the top, in definition #1, "as in propitiation or homage". There is a power dynamic in sacrifice that can place the sacrificer below the recipient. The feeling that a birth family must propitiate or appease a person or group in power is dangerous but common. This illustrates another reason sacrifice is a taboo subject; social dominance and power structure is not discussed in polite society. Since sacrifice carries with it an implied subservience, anyone connected to it is in danger of moving down the social ladder. More importantly, discussing socially and economically enforced power schema is taboo in most societies today. But perhaps most nefarious of all, if a first parent must appease someone, that implies they have done something wrong. This reinforces the idea that it's acceptable to receive a child, but unacceptable to place one for adoption. That means the adoptive parents are morally superior to the birth family. In this case sacrifice carries the stigma of moral degeneracy.

Sacrifice is fundamentally overwhelming. Confronting personal sacrifice is incredibly difficult. Surprisingly, the difficulty is not in overcoming our own discomfort or pain. The hardest part of making a sacrifice is encountering its global experience. The commonality of sacrifice is only overshadowed by its necessity. Because sacrifice is born of need it shows us our powerlessness. The pervasiveness of sacrifice is a reminder that we cannot control our own lives. Each instance of making a sacrifice is a discrete reminder of that constant and difficult truth.

Trying to be Human 101: Assigned Reading - Splendid Doormats

To avoid any confusion, please be aware the following is not my work. All that is written below is the work of James Gritter, author and social worker.

An excerpt from Lifegivers: Framing the Birthparent Experience.

Splendid Doormats

      Far more important than these alienating dynamics, however, casting birthparents as saints creates an expectation that they will be continuously and indiscriminately selfless.Enter the no-self birthparent, the adoption participant devoid of substance. This prospect is so serious that we need to explore it in detail.
      We are not quite sure what to make of saints - we see so few of them - but mostly we feel pretty good about them. We like having them around because they offer proof that positive forces are still at work in our struggling world. More to the point, we enjoy their company because they are reliably selfless. Sure, they may disturb us a little with their sterling examples, and they may inspire a few pangs of guilt about our comparative shortcomings, but we usually consider them harmless. Their consistency and reliability leads us to the conclusion that they are safe. Since saints are oriented to the needs of others and place little or no emphasis on their own needs, we are confident they won't make trouble. To our delight, saintly persons can be counted on to forgive any mistreatment they might encounter, a marvelous quality that means we do not have to worry about offending them.
      The notion of the mature, selfless, giving, thoughtful birthparent is an appealing trap. Each of these pleasant words can carry the subtle message, "She'll make no demands." This high-minded talk of selflessness may be well intended, but we must be careful about issuing anyone an invitation to be extraordinary, for, as we have seen, there is usually a price to pay for choosing a course that is out of the norm. In this instance, the praise of maturity can serve as an invitation for the birthparent to stifle her thoughts and feelings. It can be an alluring invitation to self-discounting. It is one thing for a birthmother to make a careful decision to curb her self-interest so the interests of her child can be advanced, but another thing altogether to be admired into a status that presumes continuous sacrifice.