2016 Celia Center Arts Festival Artist Portal
Adopting Resilience, Fostering the Spirit of Creativity:
The Voices of the Fostered and Adopted ages 13 & up
We welcome submissions from Foster and Adopted Teens/Adults, in the performing, visual, and healing arts!
Welcome, artists! Here, you’ll find everything you need to know about participating in the Celia Center Arts Festival, slated for Saturday, January 23, 2016 in Los Angeles, California.
Apply now through end of day on Monday, November 30th, 2015. Explore each of our four application categories below!
Categories (see below for description):
- Performing Arts
- Creative Arts
- Healing Arts
Artist Display is presented by Yoffe Therapy
For more information and to apply:
For all inquires please email firstname.lastname@example.org
- WHAT: An Art Festival consisting of Theatre, Fine Art, Photography, Music, and Healing Arts Workshops created by Adoptees and those who went through the Foster Care system.
- WHO: CELIA CENTER -Celia Center addresses the critical needs of the Foster Care / Adoption community by providing awareness, education, and support services to all members of the bio-foster-adoption constellation, including professional social workers, nurses, case managers and therapists via support groups, events, workshops and conferences. We utilize our innovative ideas, unique therapeutic interventions and national network of allies to create a safe and supportive environment to nurture and preserve strong, healthy individuals and families in any orientation or socio-economic status.
- WHEN: SATURDAY, JANUARY 23rd, 2016.
- WHERE: The Electric Lodge – 1416 Electric Ave., Venice, CA 90291
- 1) PERFORMING ARTIST – Looking for 3-4 theatre pieces written & performed by foster and/or adoptees. Theatre pieces may be any type of live performance: plays, dance, and solo work only. Performance shall be no less than 10 minutes and no longer than 60 minutes. Technical aspects of performance shall be simple with easy load in/out. Performance will be provided with general lighting and sound capabilities. Performance will also be provided a stage manager to run show. Celia Center will publicize event as a whole, but each performance is encouraged to publicize their piece individually. With application, please also provide a .pdf of script. If theatre piece has been performed, please provide any files/links to videos, reviews, or anything you believe would be helpful.
- 2) CREATIVE ARTIST – We are looking for paintings, sketches, photographs, sculpture, jewelry, any piece of art created by foster/adoptees “showing the experience”. Artists pieces will be on display in the studio exhibit. Artist may sell art to patrons under the stipulation that art remain in display throughout entire festival; arrangements for art pickup after festival will be arranged between artist and buyer. Along with application, please provide website and/or photos of or links to the piece(s) of art being submitted.
- 3) MUSICIAN – We are looking for foster/adoptee musicians. Musicians will be performing throughout the day. Performances may take place in the lobby, in theatres before & after performances/workshops, in the studio (museum), as well as outside by entrance of the building.
- 4) HEALING ARTS WORKSHOPS – Looking for 3-4 creative workshops centering on the theme of foster/adoption that encourage and challenge participants to use their imagination and foster their creativity. Workshops can vary from writing exercises to improvisation to collage/scrapbooking to shadow-puppetry to role-playing. Really the sky’s the limit on creativity, but we are looking for workshops that may first dip into the subconscious of the participants followed by a release. Of course, a safe environment is of the utmost importance! Workshops shall be no longer than 90 minutes. Along with application, please provide any needs the workshop may have.
For all inquires please email email@example.com
Thank you for your submission!
ADOPT SALON BELLFLOWER
Pre/Post Foster Care & Adoption Constellation Support Group
A monthly open support group for all members of the Adoption Constellation:
Natural Parents, Adoptees, Former Foster Youth, Foster Parents, Legal Guardians, & Adoptive Parents.
A place for the Adoption & Foster Care community to come together to share stories, thoughts, feelings, ideas, receive psycho-education, process grief/loss, and build strong bonds/connections.
The group is facilitated by Adoption Psychotherapist, Adult Adoptee Hillary Wilson, MFT.
Participants: Members of the Foster and/or Adoption Constellation are allowed ONLY.
First mothers, First fathers, (pre & post adoption)
Adoptees and/or Foster-Adoptees/Former Foster Youth
Adoptive Parents, (pre & post adoption)
Foster Parents, Legal Guardians, Mentors to Foster Youth
(For adults only; No childcare)
When: SATURDAY, APRIL 28th, 2015.
4th Saturday of Every Month
Where: Olive Crest Agency
17800 Woodruff Ave., Suite A Bellflower, CA 90706
Time: 10:00am – 12:00pm
Contact: Jennifer Penner
No need to reserve or pre-register!
Adopt Salon was developed and is supported by the CELIA CENTER, a non-profit Adoption and Foster Care Support organization. In partnership with Olive Crest Agency.
Facing Trauma With Truth Conference at the Luxe Hotel in Los Angeles 2014
This conference took place on Friday, November 7th, 2014. Celia Center sponsored this conference and there were 250 attended. The Mayor awarded Celia Center with a Certificate of Appreciation. Friday, November 7, 2014.
Full Conference details HERE https://facingtrauma2014.sched.com/
Facing Trauma with Truth Conference Welcome with Trish Lay • Jeanette Yoffe
Sarah Culberson – Opening Keynote
On Life’s Terms: Mothers in Recovery Laura Dotson • Ruth Beaglehole
A Vision For Adoption in the 21st Century with Adam Pertman
Setting the Record Straight: 5 Myths of Domestic Adoption with Carra Greenberg
Healing the Wound: A Body-Mind Approach with Noah Rothschild
Foster Care Alumni Panel – Hear our Voices, Listen with Your Heart- NEW! Jeanette Yoffe
Acknowledging Guilt and Shame as the Doorway to Connection and Love with Sophie Bain • Sandi Stuart
Infant Massage and Attachment with Hillary Wilson
The Challenge of Responsible and Attuned Adoption Revelation: New Thinking & Understanding with Anne Brodzinksy
“Birthmother” One-Woman Play with Deanna Ross
Unfolding the Open Adoption Process with Jeanette Yoffe
Coffee/Brownie/Cookie Break LIMITED
Disrupted Adoptions, Contributing Factors & Intervention Strategies with Adam Pertman
Light and Shadows: Exploring Adoption Through the Arts with Anne Brodzinksy • Laura Callen • Daniel Barash
Inside Transracial Adoption: Breaking the Racial Sound Barrier with Beth Hall
Forgiveness: The Final Frontier with Dee Dee Mascarenas
Recovering the Child: Resolving Developmental Trauma Disorder with Neurological Reorganization with Bette Lamont
Adopted: For the Life of Me with Trish Lay
Limit Setting through Connection with Darlynn Childress
Identity Challenges of an International Adoption with Susan Smiley
Permanency, Loss, Trauma & Attachment – Role of Mental Health in the Healing Process with Dr. Greg Manning
Male Adoptee Panel with Brian Stanton, Ridghaus Nin, Noah Rothschild
Closing Healing Ritual and Energy Wolfdog from Wolf Connection with Jeanette Yoffe • Trish Lay • Wolf Connection • Red Spirit Fusion
Watch Video HERE
The Journey Continues . . . Foster Care.
Bringing awareness this May 1st, 2014
for National Foster Care Awareness Month
By Jeanette Yoffe
Remember, in my last blog, at Adoption Voices Magazine, I told you about a sunny August day in New York City? When I was happily playing in a park sand box, and my birthmother told a woman sitting nearby how ‘stressed out’ she was about being pregnant again? And that caring for me at the same time was just “too much for her?”
Well, the date was August 10th, 1972 and incredibly, my birth mother followed the strangers’ subsequent advice and I am assuming while still quite “stressed out”, brought me to Jewish Child Care in New York City. (I later learned she agreed to bring me to a Jewish agency because she thought Jews were nice people). This monumental event marked the next leg of my life’s ‘journey’ at the tender and vulnerable age of 15 months – my placement into foster care.
After a period of time at Jewish Child Care, during which I am told my birth father would visit me ‘quite often’ and plans were being discussed to have me sent to an Aunt’s home in Argentina, I went to live with a foster family; a nice Jewish family in Seaford, Long Island. I had a foster mother, a foster father, and two pre-teen foster sisters (who were biological to my foster parents). Although at first glance, I looked like I could be related to them, I knew that I was ‘different’. I was suffering from a powerful sense of confusion and loss. My heart was sore, while my mind was still too young to grasp what was happening to me.
Apparently, I cried a lot. Thinking back it’s hard to imagine how I ever stopped. I was crying for my mommy and daddy to return. Crying because I felt incredibly detached, frighteningly alone in this world. The thoughts going through my developing mind were overwhelming. I remember tearfully asking the same questions over and over again, “Where did my mommy go? Where is my daddy? When are they coming for me?” and even more painful questions like, “What did I do wrong?” I felt responsible. Did I hurt them? Did I destroy them? The sense that it was my fault, that I had done something wrong was tremendously debilitating. And I would look up at my new family and wonder, “Who are these people? They don’t feel like me, they don’t smell like me… Do they love me?” And then that relentless voice again telling me, “I’m scared, I’m sad, I’m angry and I am all alone in this enormous world!”
As I grew older, living with my foster family in their upper middle class suburban home, my inner voice grew stronger. But I was afraid to speak freely. I didn’t question anything out of a sense that if I said or did anything ‘wrong’, everything could be taken away again. I would once again be out of control – totally dependent on strangers. I was just a kid and didn’t have anyone to model strength for me, or help me process my thoughts and feelings so I just accepted my situation. I would tell myself, “It is what it is. I’m in a family, they care about me, I eat everyday, I have hand-me-downs. I have a room. I have toys. I go to school and that’s that. I’m alive.” And in the 1970’s, the foster care system did not provide individual counseling or family therapy services to help process and understand what was happening so I did what most kids in this situation do… I repressed everything. I took every painful, negative, angry feeling that was raging inside of me and crumpled them up like a giant piece of paper. Crushed and crumpled and threw them in the garbage like “trash” and thought I was done with it. These feelings would not control me.
It wasn’t until I was a young adult and in therapy that I realized I was walking around with this enormous “crumpled up ball” inside of me (I told my therapist “I felt like a piece of garbage”) and this part of me desperately needed my attention. I now realize I was lucky to have that epiphany, as some foster kids never do and they carry the pain inside their whole life. But I was a strong kid, who wanted nothing more than to be happy. So with all of my strength and all of my courage I reached deep down and ripped out that ball of crumpled paper, smoothed it out in front of me and wrote “I LOVE YOU” with my own hand. The trash was instantly turned to gold. This was the day I began to heal, to love myself, to care for the pain and not discard it. I began to feel compassion for what I had been through and began to hear my voice more clearly. No one person could have done this for me, I had to do this myself, but looking back I now know that a good therapist could have helped me get there sooner, with more understanding and empathy. This support is exactly what I try to provide foster kids in my professional practice today.
* * *
Foster care was never explained to me. At least in a way I could understand at the time. I didn’t know that foster care was a temporary home, and not a permanent one. I didn’t know that the “big people” in my life, like my foster parents, social worker, the judge, and the attorneys, were constantly looking to “place” me and at one point were even making plans (yet again) for me to return to my biological family in Argentina. But more important than what I didn’t know was what they didn’t know – that in the 6 1/2 years I had been living with a foster family… They had become my family. Not foster, not temporary, but real. My family. What else was I to think? What else had I to compare this too except some ill-defined feelings of not belonging when I first arrived? After all, they raised me from 15 months and if it wasn’t true love that I felt, I had certainly grown to need them and respect them and they had grown to love me, very much, especially my foster father, who was already in his late 40’s when they took me in. He would often laugh and joke with me, and treat me like his own daughter. So at the age of 7 1/2 I didn’t know this “growing together”, this “family” would one day abruptly end and I would be leaving this family too without explanation, without discussion, without choice.
I wish I could tell you that my experience in foster care was all daisies and lollipops but I’d be lying if I did so. I am not one to sugarcoat my experiences, especially now as an adult. I have the words now and I have the strength to speak about my experience and I use those words and that strength to help kids who are in the shoes I wore get through their foster care and adoption experiences – and even more to understand what is happening to them and letting them know it is not their fault.
And I will tell you plainly that the day I was forced to leave my foster family was the second most devastating day of my young life. I have never really admitted it to anyone before, just how hurtful that day was. I kept that piece of paper balled up because of pride. But even now, thinking about how my foster sisters Amy and Nancy may read this, I don’t think they fully understand how difficult and life changing leaving that house was for me. Because I had grown attached. I had grown to love my foster father. He became my father. They were my sisters. Or were they?
* * *
Backing up a bit, when I was 7 years old, about 6 months before I was adopted out of my foster family’s home, I remember a professional woman, Barbara Horowitz, coming to my foster home to talk with me. This meeting and subsequent timeline remain very fragmented in my mind as it was emotionally overwhelming, especially for a kid of that young age. However, I remember her coming over and being introduced as my ‘social worker’ and even though I wasn’t sure what that meant I quickly realized that this woman had the power to take me out of the Faro’s home. How did I know that? Well, she sat me down on the couch and said something like, “Hi Jeanette. Next week, you and I are going to meet your “real” brother Patrick. He lives in the Bronx. And then you and Patrick are going to go on a long plane ride and move in with your real family in Argentina.”
Just like that. Brother? Real family? Argen-what-a? I remember looking at her sort of blankly, half not understanding, half not wanting to and saying, “Um, OK. Can I go outside and play now?”
I remember her shaking her head. It was time to listen, not play. And ‘how did I feel about that?’ Hmmm. Here I am, seven years old, just a couple a weeks removed from my summer break and I’m suddenly being told I have a mother in Argentina and a brother in the Bronx? Up to this point I didn’t know I had a brother or that my birth family was from Argentina. I was curious yet scared. I didn’t want to leave the Faro family because I thought they were my real family! I was utterly confused and conflicted. I didn’t know what to say.
The following week Mrs. Horowitz pulled up outside my foster family’s home, rang the bell and said she had someone to introduce me to. I vividly remember standing at the top of the stairs looking down at the foyer and as they walked in I almost collapsed. Standing beside her was my biological brother Patrick. I had never seen anyone who really looked like me before. And yet he still felt so much like a stranger. It was a very odd sensation feeling so close and yet so distant from someone at the same time. I became very defensive and guarded. I was thinking, I don’t know this weird person that looks like me and you want me to get on a plane with him and go where?! He became a threat. I was scared by the whole situation. I looked around me and I wanted to scream but I couldn’t speak, I wanted to run, but I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed with fear of what was to come and had the dreadful sense that I could do nothing about it. My life was out of my control.
Somehow Mrs. Horowitz managed to get me in the car, probably with a great deal of coaxing from my foster mom and took Patrick and I to Burger King for lunch. After a burger and fries she took us to have passport pictures made in order to travel to Argentina. I remember very little specifics from this day, just a series of images. I cannot even recall having the passport photo taken, but I still have it so I know it happened. Here’s the proof.
When I look at this photo, I am beside myself. The look in my eyes; a child, confused and overwhelmed, not understanding what is happening and at the same time just doing what she’s told by the adults around her. It breaks my heart! But I also realize, the “big people” had a plan for me, which in hindsight is very positive. In my professional life I am all for reunification when it is safe and the birth family or extended family are capable of providing a loving and nurturing home for their child. But boy, how different my life would have been had we actually gotten on that plane.
However, I did not get on that plane. Argentina would have to wait another 25 years. I am still trying to find out exactly why we didn’t go, but for the purposes of this blog suffice to say I went back to my foster family for what would turn out to be another 6 months. Of course the not going to Argentina was never actually explained to me. Nor would anyone tell me where my brother lived and why I couldn’t see him again. In fact, I don’t remember anyone explaining anything. I started to have those damn negative thoughts again like, “Had they seen my photo and decided they didn’t want me back?” “Did they die?” Talk about confusing! I am amazed I can write about this now and having a first grader of my own – I look at him and wonder aloud sometimes, ‘how did I ever cope with this rug being pulled out from under me AGAIN?’
* * *
In August of 1978, I was adopted by Ron and Diane Kopitowsky. They lived one town over from my foster family’s home in a much less ostentatious house, with lots of cats. I remember waking up sometimes in my ‘new’ bedroom with my ‘new’ family, getting out of bed and losing all control of my body. I would literally fall to the ground, unable to stand and think, “Oh my god, I can’t walk anymore….” It was as if, looking back now, the rug was literally being pulled out from under me! Eventually the feeling would come back to my legs and I would manage to get back up. After a few months this stopped happening, perhaps because I started to feel more grounded in my new environment that for all of its flaws, was a loving home. And for that I was very lucky.
* * *
I have always wondered, where my inner strength came from? My birth family? My foster family? Or just me? How did I manage to juggle all of this chaos and still manage to be a kid, to make it through adolescence and my teen years without terrible abuse self-inflicted or otherwise? Yes, I was defiant, angry, and sad, however I was also a child who “kept it inside.” I didn’t scream it out loud, like my adopted sister did (a sexual abuse survivor, who’s story also needs to be heard), because I was screaming so loud inside, without anyone knowing. It felt safer that way. I was attempting to deal with my own internal “hell” and protecting myself from more loss. I was so scared of once again being abandoned, alone, unloved, that I just kept my mouth shut and my feelings to myself. This is one reason why children, whom have been in foster care, do not share their feelings and keep them bunched up inside, because there is so much fear of being rejected again, of being given away – that they will keep that paper so tightly crumpled they can forget its even there. My strength, comes in part from luck… I had experienced real love and the healing power of it, from my birth father who visited me in Jewish Child Care, from my foster family and now from my adoptive parents who through all their human flaws, loved me and WANTED me. I think at some point I realized that I was loved, I was wanted and that I mattered. I was important to someone and amidst all of the chaos. I had hope.
* * *
In my next blog I will share the experience of leaving my foster family and being adopted. I thank you ahead of time for joining me.