Youqine Lefèvre on the trail of (her own) adoption

A man is about to leave for China for the first time . In the hall of Zaventem airport he meets the eight other Belgians with whom he will spend the next two weeks. In total six families flew to Beijing at the end of July 1994.

After a day's layover, they leave again, this time to Changsha, the capital of Hunan province in the south of the country. From Changsha, the group traveled by bus to the countryside. Since his departure from Brussels, the man has filmed everything, including the endless fields and the kilometers of journeys through desolate landscapes.

After dropping off their belongings at the hotel and completing some administrative formalities at the notary, the families finally arrive at the Yueyang orphanage. The place has faded, the paint is peeling off the walls. From the bus, the man films the arrival in the courtyard of the building, as well as the waiting that follows. Youqine, then eight months old, is finally introduced to him and she crawls into his arms for the first time. The nannies from the orphanage then bring the other children. Six girls were adopted that day. Youqine's father was one of the first Belgians to adopt a child from China.

In 2017, nearly a quarter of a century later, time and memory erased many things, but the records of these adoptive families have remained completely intact. For Youqine, the period of rejection towards her country of origin has come to an end, and a time of questions seems to have come: "For years I had a conflicted relationship with China, I did not want to return at all. I was terrified of it, but when I 23, I instinctively felt I was ready, I think it's something mature, wanting to know where you are in your life."

Youqine Lefèvre had just graduated from the École Supérieure d'Arts Appliqués in Vevey, Switzerland. She studied photography there - after obtaining a bachelor's degree at the École de Recherche Graphique (ERG) in Brussels. It has also been a while since she " Far from home", a series about children placed in a home in the Swiss mountains and separated from their parents for various reasons. After her first major project, Youqine feels ready to embark on a new, more personal project. The images that her father made the basis of this project in 1994. It is the end of October 2017, and now it is her turn to leave for China for the first time.As she gets on the plane, Youqine realizes that with this future photo project she mainly looking for meaning.

Once in China, she returns to the orphanage in Yueyang, where her adoptive father picked her up. The neighborhood has undergone a metamorphosis, many new buildings have been built since then. Few traces of the past remain. The place is now a center for people with a physical or mental disability, and for the elderly who can no longer live independently. The courtyard where the bus parked in 1994 no longer exists. Only the building in which Youqine's father held her in his arms for the first time still stands.

Youqine knows nothing about her biological parents. She is said to have lived with them for a month before being left with only her date of birth written on a piece of paper. Someone found her and took her to the police station before she was taken to the orphanage. Youqine searches the Wulipai sub-district, and eventually finds the police station in question. The orphanage had always existed in her father's photo archive, but discovering other places in Wulipai was not an easy experience. Until now, these places were little more than abstract words on administrative documents: "It made them more real. It made them more real. Keeping those places, collecting evidence through photography, is an attempt to appropriate them. I have made them part of my story.”

Just as she did not project herself into the Swiss children she photographed, Youqine had no intention of making a project about herself with The Land of Promises . Although the basis of the photo project in China is her own childhood, she decided to limit the personal aspect in order to cover a more important subject: "I always have to distance myself. My story is the starting point, but it is also a pretext to What I really wanted to understand was the one-child policy.”

Indeed, the many consequences of the one-child policy - introduced in China between 1979 and 2015 to combat overpopulation - are too intertwined with Youqine's personal story to be overlooked. “Patriarchy and cultural preference for sons have increased discrimination against girls and women through abortions, neglect, infanticide or negligent treatment,” she says.

This imbalance in births and the shortage of girls has also led to an accelerated aging of the population – which eventually became so problematic that, after successive easing measures, China finally decided in 2021 that families could have up to three children . Despite the negative consequences of the one-child policy, some studies have also shown that the rarer girls become, the ' better' they are regarded. But over the years, this scarcity has become so strong in some areas - especially in rural areas - that the population is predominantly male. "It's creepy, but there are many villages with only men. Everyone is poor and the women, who have more choice, leave these areas to live in the city," Youqine says. The result is a significant increase in the trafficking of girls; they are kidnapped to be sold as wives, for example.”

Youqine's portraits of the people she met in China reflect the bigger picture of the one-child policy. During her second trip in 2019, the photographer was able to complete her series by talking to even more people, thus better understanding the situation and its contradictions: "It allowed me to deepen my research. I could better understand my subject and also felt more legit to make this project," she says. During her second trip, Youqine was also allowed to photograph young people in a school, with whom she could discuss their views on things.

One particular photo has accompanied Youqine throughout her creative process: the first we know of her. This passport photo, taken in 1994, is a standard photo that is quite common for children waiting for adoption. It is also the only material trace that exists from before her adoption of her. "I've always seen it in my files, but I've never really thought about it," she explains. You don't even know how old you are in that photo. So little is known about what happens before the adoption. ."

This photo, which is one of the foundations of her series, can also be an important key to the continuation of her project: "The photo tells the story before the adoption, that of the adoption itself and also that of the future, explains Youqine. “I know I'll be using this photo when I'm trying to figure out who my biological parents are; these photos usually form the basis of that search. This photo also represents hope.”