Conclusion: Talking About Race and Adoption

Abstract

Two years ago, on vacation in the Great Smoky Mountains, I saw a white couple at a restaurant with their Asian daughter. Although her father told her to quit staring, I felt the girl’s eyes on me all through the meal. I smiled at her, feeling a strong sense of kinship, a pang of sympathy. As a child, whenever I saw another Asian person — which I hardly ever did — I used to stare, too, hungry for the sight of someone, anyone, who looked like me.