The Mother Tongue Calls: Healing Adoption Wounds through Learning Chinese
A Collaborative Message from The Mothers’ Bridge of Love × Capital Class
By Tongyu Li (founder of Capital Class)
Where Language Meets Love
Capital Class is a London-based online language school dedicated to building bridges between East and West. We offer interactive English and Mandarin courses — from Cambridge English and LAMDA to YCT, HSK, GCSE and A-level Chinese — for students around the world.
Our connection with The Mothers’ Bridge of Love (MBL) began when our co-founder, Ms. Tongyu Li, was helping a Chinese adoptee write to her birth orphanage. The name “MBL” appeared again — one she first came across years ago through Xinran Xue’s novel The Chopsticks, a story about identity, loss, and resilience.
What began as a moment of translation became a lasting partnership. MBL’s mission — helping adopted children reconnect with their roots — resonated deeply with our own belief: that language has the power to heal, to rebuild identity, and to carry love across cultures.
That shared vision is what brings us together this Mothering Sunday, also known as the UK’s Mother’s Day.
Introduction: A Poem that Resonates Across Borders
“You may not have my eyes or smile... but you are my deepest longing.”
— From The Legacy of Adopted Children
Every year on Mothering Sunday in the UK, The MBL receives letters from adoptive families worldwide. Some express gratitude, others voice complex emotions, and many share a journey of healing—where learning Chinese becomes more than a language lesson; it becomes a pathway to identity, memory, and inner peace.
As a long-time Chinese language educator in the UK and a volunteer with MBL, I have witnessed this moment. When a child says “māma” (“妈妈”) for the first time in Mandarin, the pronunciation may be uncertain, but the light in their eyes is unmistakable. It is not simply an utterance; it is a response from somewhere deep inside — a whisper of belonging.
A Language Lost — and Remembered
Many internationally adopted children leave their birth country as infants or toddlers. In their new families, language, culture — even their given names — are often changed. They grow up in two worlds yet sometimes feel voiceless in both.
Language is not only a tool for communication; it is a vessel for emotion, memory, and identity. For adoptees, the absence of their birth language can symbolize a rupture — from their origin story, their cultural heritage, and even from the parts of themselves that remain unnamed.
As these children grow older, questions often arise:
“Where do I come from?”
“What was my name in Chinese?”
“Why do I look different from everyone else?”
“Why can’t I speak my birth language?”
These questions are not just linguistic. They carry the weight of psychological trauma and identity confusion — and they often mark the beginning of a healing journey.
Chinese as a Bridge for Healing
In psychology, language is recognised as a bridge between self and others, past and present. In the DD317 Open University module, the theme of contemporary subjectivity emphasizes that emotions are shaped not just internally but through society, culture, and history (The Open University, 2025a). For adoptees, learning Chinese can become a powerful way of re-authoring their story — reclaiming agency and reconnecting with fragmented roots.
In our classroom, we have seen how:
Sound unlocks emotion: When children learn to say words like “māma” (妈妈) or “nǎinai” (奶奶, grandma), there is often a pause, a hesitation — then a quiet repetition. These words may not exist in their lived experience, but they resonate in the body like a forgotten melody.
Writing rebuilds identity: One ten-year-old boy once told me, after learning to write his original Chinese name: “This feels like a key — a way to know who I was meant to be.”
Stories reconnect the self: Through Chinese folktales, festivals, and historical figures, adoptees start to piece together cultural fragments into a fuller picture of identity. They no longer define themselves solely as "adopted", but as “children of the bridge” — belonging to more than one world.
Families learn together: More and more adoptive parents are joining language classes alongside their children. Fluency is not the goal; emotional connection is. Learning together becomes an act of love — a journey toward empathy and shared heritage.
Mothering Sunday: A Celebration of Many Kinds of Love
Mothering Sunday is a time for gratitude. But in transnational adoptive families, it often holds layers of complexity.
For adoptive mothers, it is a celebration — but also sometimes tinged with guilt or quiet worry: “I gave my child a new life... but does she still long for what was lost?”
For adoptees, the word “mother” holds multitudes — not only the one who raised them but also the one who gave them life. In language lessons, children often ask: “What was my birth mother’s name?” or “Does she still think of me?” These questions reveal a longing — not just for answers, but for emotional wholeness.
At MBL, our cultural and language programmes strive to create a space where these emotions can be safely expressed. In our classrooms:
“Mother” is not just a biological or adoptive role but a symbol of connection, nurture, and origin.
The “mother tongue” is not just a subject but a call back to belonging.
A True Story: The Journey of Rui Rui
Rui Rui (name changed for privacy) was adopted from Hunan Province at age seven and raised in Scotland. Now a university student, she once refused to study Chinese: “It’s part of a life I lost,” she said.
Years later, during a writing exercise about the word “home,” she wrote:
“I didn’t want to remember before.
But now I want to say, in Chinese:
Thank you, Mama, for giving me life.
And thank you, other Mama, for raising me.”
That short paragraph was more than language learning — it was healing through voice, identity, and acceptance.
Language Education as Culturally Embedded Mental Health Support
From both social psychology and lived experience, we are learning that happiness is no longer just a private feeling, but a product of culture, policy, and power structures (Cabanas & Illouz, 2019*). As happiness becomes a measurable social objective, we must ask — especially in the context of adoption:
Is “being happy” the same as “being understood”?
Is “adjustment” the same as “belonging”?
For adoptees, happiness comes not just from fitting in, but from being seen, being heard, and being connected. Language can provide that — not as a task, but as a gift.
The mother tongue is more than phonetics or vocabulary.
It is remembrance.
It is resistance.
It is reconciliation.
At Capital Class, we do not only teach Chinese. We plant seeds of resilience, we nurture emotional fluency, and we honour every adoptee’s right to reclaim their voice — in the language of their beginning.
Closing Words: “Thank You, Mama”
Every time a child whispers in Mandarin, “Xièxie nǐ, māma” (谢谢你，妈妈 – Thank you, Mama), we know something profound has happened.
That phrase does not only express gratitude.
It crosses time.
It crosses borders.
It speaks to two families, two worlds, and the two halves of one heart.
This “Thank you, Mama”
is for the one who gave them life,
for the one who raised them,
for every silent moment of missing,
and for every joyful moment of connection.
This is the voice of the mother tongue.
And it is calling them home.
References
Cabanas, E. and Illouz, E. (2019) Manufacturing Happy Citizens: How the Science and Industry of Happiness Control Our Lives, Cambridge, Polity Press. *
The Open University (2025a) DD317 Advancing Social Psychology. Book 2: Contemporary Social Psychological Subjects, Milton Keynes, The Open University.
