My Flesh And Blood is a documentary film released in 2003 and directed by Jonathan Karsh. It features a family of one mother and eleven adopted children, most of whom have disabilities ranging from mild to severe. It is an excellent film in terms of content and editing and I'd give it five stars for its portrayal of open adoption. It gave me a glimpse of what open adoption might look like when the children are teenagers.
I've been thinking a lot lately about how the teenage years will mean I can no longer write about my children without their permission. It will be a time when they may not like me to say anything about them at all. It will be their "show" so to speak, as their lives become separate from their parents'. The writer Ariel Gore had a nice interview in The Oregonian newspaper last week. She commented:
"When you have a 3-year-old and they do something funny, you're allowed to talk about it. But most of the insane stuff that happens when your kids are teenagers are really more their story, and they don't want you writing about it. So, you get back to this place of having to be silent. You're totally traumatized by everything, and you can't talk about it with anyone; it's terrible."
There is a fine line between sharing your life with strangers with the goal of educating them, wanting to show them your reality, or wanting their sympathy and understanding. I'm thinking of My Flesh And Blood, and of All Aboard Rosie's Family Cruise, another wonderful documentary about 500 queer families on a cruise ship together. Exposing yourself and your family can be so rewarding and so risky at the same time. I've written an email to Susan Tom, the matriarch of My Flesh And Blood with the hope that she can shed some light on this dilemma for me.
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