On May 30, 2002, a Chinese toddler named Fangfang was kidnapped by baby snatchers working for China’s Family Planning agency, which enforced the policy prohibiting families from having more than one child. Separated from her twin sister, Shuangjie, and other relatives, Fangfang was soon given by Chinese authorities to an American family that adopted her and renamed her Esther. Years later, journalist Barbara Demick (Nothing to Envy) interviewed Esther’s birth family, setting off the remarkable series of events, chronicled in Daughters of the Bamboo Grove: From China to America, a True Story of Abduction, Adoption, and Separated Twins, that led to the twins’ emotional reunion as teenagers.
You’re an experienced foreign correspondent who has written previous books about the Balkans, North Korea and Tibet. What about Esther and Shuangjie’s story convinced you to pursue it and ultimately write this book?
It’s funny. I didn’t seek out this book so much as it came to me. I had originally set out to help the Zeng family find their missing daughter. Long after I identified her, her American adoptive family came to me asking for help connecting with the Chinese family, which meant traveling with them to China. It all unfolded into the obvious conclusion: that I should write a book. I had been given an extraordinary opportunity to witness a primal human experience and chronicle the unfolding relationship between these two genetically identical human beings, one Chinese and one American.
Your book documents the brutal punishment China used to enforce its oppressive one-child policy. What drove the Zengs and so many others to defy the law by having more than one child?
I think the Zengs were prescient. They sensed that the one-child policy was nonsensical and would eventually be lifted. But the children would be theirs forever. In fact, the one-child policy was abolished in 2015. Almost comically, the family planning staff are now encouraging people to have more babies. Chinese people have an expression: They say the Communist Party is like the weather. It frequently changes.
What created the U.S. boom in international adoptions, and why were evangelical Christians like Esther’s American family so heavily involved in it?
In the United States, birth control, sex education, the legalization of abortion and the growing respectability of single motherhood led to a precipitous drop in the number of unwanted babies. Americans had to look abroad to poorer countries. Chinese girls were very appealing. Relatively healthy, no fetal alcohol syndrome. It wasn’t just childless couples [who wanted to adopt]. Stories about abandoned babies wasting away in orphanages tugged at the heartstrings. People wanted to help. And they felt like saviors in doing so. This was especially true for evangelical Christians attending churches that depicted saving orphans as a religious imperative.
“All of my books have had the same goal: to show readers how much they have in common with people from other cultures.”
As your book shows, U.S. adoptive parents often were deceived about the origins of their Chinese babies, many of whom had been kidnapped and trafficked. Why did Chinese authorities turn a blind eye to this abuse, and were U.S. adoption agencies complicit or just ill-informed?
This was a classic “don’t ask, don’t tell.” For the Chinese, adoption brought in money and helped reduce the population, which was, after all, the goal of the one-child policy. And it was a beautiful thing for Americans who desperately wanted those babies. Nobody questioned too closely. In fairness, in the 1980s and early 1990s, there truly were large numbers of abandoned babies who needed homes. But that changed by the late 1990s. Just as demand was peaking in the U.S. for healthy babies, the supply ran low. Chinese people were getting wealthier and gutsier and refusing to give up their children. That’s when abductions and trafficking picked up. I don’t think the adoption agencies were aware until maybe 2005, when the first scandals broke.
Initially, after Esther learned of her true origin from your reporting, she and her American mom, Marsha, were deeply reluctant to be in contact with her birth family. Why was that, and why did it change?
As an adoptive mother, Marsha’s first obligation was to her daughter, who was just 9 years old when [I broke the families’ story]. Esther was initially traumatized to learn about her past. It was only when she became a teenager that she started asking to meet her twin and birth parents. Marsha told me later she knew it would happen one day and that the story would come out, but that it had to wait until Esther was ready. I respected Marsha’s decision. I think any responsible mother would have done the same.
Read our starred review of ‘Daughters of the Bamboo Grove’ by Barbara Demick.
Your reporting and subsequent assistance to the two families were crucial to the twins’ reconnection. It’s unusual for a journalist to be so personally involved. Why did you decide to do that?
My hunt to find the missing twin was really a challenge to myself. Sure, I wanted to help, but I also wanted to see if I could do it. I hadn’t given enough consideration to what I would do if I found her or on the psychological impact for Esther. By the time I met her, I realized how much trauma had resulted from my mucking around in their lives. I felt obliged to help as best I could. And yes, it is unusual for a journalist to be so personally involved. In my other books, I’m almost entirely invisible, like the proverbial fly on the wall. I find it uncomfortable to insert myself into a story, but there was no choice in this case.
Esther’s and Shuangjie’s personal stories are the heart of the book. Like any twins or other siblings, they have personality similarities and differences. Which of those differing traits do you think can be attributed to their childhoods in such different cultures?
So much is cultural. Raised in the U.S., Esther was told she could be anything she wanted. She has an almost stereotypical Texan “can-do” attitude. Shuangjie is less confident, in part because she was the youngest daughter in a still-patriarchal society and because a rural upbringing carries a stigma in China. But both young women are creative, emotionally mature, stable. I think their core personalities are very similar.
“I find it uncomfortable to insert myself into a story, but there was no choice in this case.”
Your descriptions of the Zengs’ life in rural China and the circumstances of Esther’s birth and kidnapping are incredibly detailed. You say in the book that they’re based on multiple interviews over a number of years. How did you persuade the Zengs to be so forthcoming?
There was never any persuading. I just hung out with them. They’ve always been very friendly and welcoming. I found that to be common in the Chinese countryside. But I wouldn’t say the Zengs were unusually forthcoming. They are modest people who don’t like to talk about themselves. I’ve found other rural Chinese people to be much chattier.
When you started your reporting, it was very difficult for American adoptees from China to find their birth families. How has that changed?
It’s incredible how much has changed. Social media, for one, has made the world so much smaller. Back in 2009, I was able to identify Esther through a Yahoo page for families who had adopted from a particular Shaoyang orphanage. A decade later, Esther was able to chat instantly with her Chinese family through messaging apps that also provide translations. And of course, DNA testing. Many adoptees and birth families are taking DNA tests to look for one another, and they are succeeding. I know of hundreds of adoptees who have located their birth parents. Some have visited. The numbers are increasing exponentially as more adoptees and birth families realize that it is indeed possible.
“I hope it can be a salve for other adoptees to better understand how they got to where they are today.”
How do you think Esther and Shuangjie’s relationship will evolve? Do you hope to continue writing about it?
If it had not been for the COVID-19 pandemic, Shuangjie probably would have come to the United States to visit Esther in 2020 or 2021. We lost that momentum. Right now, it’s difficult for Chinese people to get visas, so there are no immediate plans for another reunion. Esther communicates with Shuangjie and her birth mother through WeChat, but there’s only so far you can get with online translation. I’ve read studies by the scholar Nancy Segal saying that separated identical twins become more alike with age, as they shed the distinctions brought from their upbringing and revert to their more essential selves. I suspect that Esther and Shuangjie will reconnect somewhat later in life, bringing more depth to their relationship. If so, maybe I will write about it again. Or they will.
What were you most hoping to convey or accomplish with Daughters of the Bamboo Grove? And what’s up next for you?
All of my books have had the same goal: to show readers how much they have in common with people from other cultures. The two families profiled, American and Chinese, are both rural, not terribly wealthy, but loving and intelligent. The mothers in particular shared many of the same frustrations as young women. This book, though, is dedicated to adoptees. I hope it can be a salve for other adoptees to better understand how they got to where they are today.
As for what’s next, I’m reverting to something more in the vein of my previous books, which are all microhistories of small places that reveal truths about the larger wholes. I’ve written in the past about a Sarajevo street (Logavina Street), a North Korean city (Nothing to Envy) and a Tibetan town (Eat the Buddha). The upcoming book is about a street in Berlin, as it happens, a place I used to live.
Photo of Barbara Demick by Bianca Rizzi.