Narrative Essay About Immigration History

I was about the age of 10 when I finally learned my heritage. My mother and I were standing in the bank vault, and she was getting some papers for a trip to Canada, to update all of our passports. I was there with her, and while she was going through the things in our lock box, one particular, colorful document caught my eye. I pulled it out and held it up to her, asking what it was. She told me it was my birth certificate. I looked at it once again and replied that this couldn’t be my birth certificate, because it was written in a strange language, not English. She finished getting all of the documents, including my birth certificate and we went home. I couldn’t stop asking her questions about what it was, until she finally told me. That day, I learned I was adopted. The adoption story itself changed how I
looked at my past, and it made me look into my heritage’s history and traditions.
According to my mom, I was always full of motion, happiness, and music.
At the orphanage I stayed at, the nurses referred to me as a “pesky little bug”, because I was always moving. Before the Americans came and adopted me, I was offered up to other Russians first, as is a Russian law. When the Americans came to Russia, I was nine months old. The Americans looked through the registry and the nurses helped them select my brother and I. They weren’t supposed to see or select any children beforehand.
Each child was supposed to be on the registry for ten months. Matthew was safe, as he was two years old at the time. On the other hand, I was only nine months old! However, by the time the papers were signed, I made it by one day.
There was another scare. The court date for the group of Americans to adopt their children was nearly changed! They would have had to gone back for me! It was the groups’ quick thinking, a bribe of $100, flowers and candy to the judge, along with the fix up of the truck that was to take them to receive the papers, the problem was avoided. On November 2nd, 1998, we received our birth certificates and our new names. Matthew and Emily
Barber.
On the plane home, Matthew was the trouble child. He was crying and screaming for most of the ride home. The only way for him to be quiet would be walked up and down the aisles. Surprisingly enough, I was the quiet one. I stayed sleeping for the entire ride.
Now that I heard this story, I began to research about my cultures histories and traditions. Like, why was I supposed to be on the registry for 10 months, instead of six months, or even a year? Why was I offered up to Russians first, instead of just being put out on the registry? Why weren’t my parents allowed to look at the registry? Why did my parents have to bribe the judge?
As I asked more and more questions, I learned that the reason I was offered up to Russians first was because children, orphans, were considered the perfect building blocks of Soviet citizenships. We didn’t have any family to corrupt us and we lived under the care of the State. Now, why I wasn’t taken up by a Russian family was because they didn’t have a lot of money to adopt children. Adoption of Russian babies, could cost up to $50,000. My adoption cost about $15,000. I was so cheap because I have a mental disability, I was seen as “inadequate” by Russians, so I was more likely to go out for an international adoption. I was a “clearance baby”.
The reason children are supposed to be on the registry for 10 months is so eligible Russian couples, who are looking to adopt, can have their pick of the litter, instead of having all of the “good” children snatched up by foreigners.
As for my parents bribing the judge, it was because of my dad. My adoptive father had been previously married, had two of his own children, and was divorced. The judge attempted to delay his decision regarding the adoption. The translator working with the parents told them that he did not want to grant them the adoption and so, the translator suggested bribing the judge. So, either the judge had a change of heart, or the candies and flowers that my parents had bought and given to the judge after learning of his decision, changed his mind. They were ultimately granted the right to adopt their two children
This changed me because I have a better understanding of things that I may not have had before, such as why I looked nothing like my family, why I talked differently, why I did things in a different way than them. It’s because of where I was from. And I am proud to say that I am a Russian-American.