Adoption

Standing in the American Airlines check-in with Brian, we began to notice several moms and dads with little babies. I thought nothing of it until Brian said he reckoned those were all adopted babies. Awakened to this fact, I looked at each of the oddly matched parents and babies standing for long amounts of time in check-in. Sure enough, those brown little babies with their white, happy parents must be products of Guatemalans who put their children up for adoption. I turned to Brian and said, "You know, there is a myth here among the country folk that Americans adopt babies from Guatemala to eat them." Mmmm, grilled Guatemalan is such a delicacy in the USA. The strangest part is they say it with such belief and conviction in their eyes....

As I looked at these newly created families, I wondered what their lives would be like in the States. Would the parents keep the kids original Spanish names like Carlos, Natalia, Rodrigo? Would they receive new Anglo-Saxon names like Josh, Helen, Robert? Imagine what it must be like to be whisked away from Guatemala, a developing country where presumably they would end up as shoe shiners on the street and instead would grow up in the suburbs playing soccer and piano. When will they begin to wonder about their biological families? Is it possible for the “parents” to love the child as deeply as if biology were involved?

They looked so happy there cooing their new kids and rocking back and forth. I wonder what the babies thought. If they realized what was happening? If they were scared or anxious? If they knew their mama and papa didn’t want them or couldn’t care for them? What was going on in their little heads? Not one of them cried. Not one of them made a single sound the entire time we were in line. Maybe they were okay with the idea of going to the Promised Land. Maybe they felt safe and secure in the arms of their loving adopted parents. I hope they all have good lives.

The Two Sides of Chauvinism

Walking down the street, my red hair (everyone says it is blond here) pulled up in a ponytail, wearing my Chaco’s, grubby pants, and t-shirt, I noticed a group of men ahead. Quick figuring in my head assessed the situation: I was grimy but I sure looked exotic, there were five males all eyes on me, 30 seconds to pass them; I estimated cat calls in 15 seconds. Internally, I rolled my eyes. Seriously, people! Gosh!

As I passed, I could feel their bulldog eyes fixed on me. They were practically drooling, slobbering, and foaming at the mouth like a pack of over sized, big-balled Great Danes. Here it comes, I thought, and sure enough, a few of them got enough of their senses back to hiss and whistle at me. Fine, I was going to stick it to the man, the great chauvinist idiots. I turned to them, and with sweetly sickening spite (just polite enough) in my voice said, “good afternoon!” My strategy is that if I remind them that I am a human, maybe they’ll treat me with respect. I’m over the “it’s another culture” bs. These men need to learn a little R-E-S-P-E-C-T. They couldn’t be impolite; they had to respond with, “good afternoon,” too. Ha!

After the catwalk parade to the bus stop, I waited in line for the Number 2 bus. Finally, its red, hulking, diesel-spewing frame wheezed across the street. When I got on the bus, no seats remained. I grabbed hold of the railing and braced myself for the roller coaster ride to school. The bus huffed off down the street, wheeled itself around the corner, and dropped down the steep hill towards the university.

I felt a faint tap, tap on my shoulder and I looked over to see a young man offering me his seat. The ride is only a few minutes so I started to say no, but he insisted, so I said, “thank you,” and sat. It warmed my heart, this side of chauvinism. It’s so nice that women are offered this funny “special care” place in society where men open doors, offer seats, and pay for meals. I don’t quite understand how this “respect” for women works when five seconds before there had been no respect for my rights as human being. I still prefer this side of chauvinism. Thanks, dude. For all of you reading this, remember to stick it to the man and say thanks if someone opens the door for you! Ha!