My first mother transported me from Martin Place West Hospital where I was born a few days before to my first and only foster home. For reasons unknown it was her job to make sure I was taken to the foster home. My foster mother met my first mother outside her home and there I was turned over and relinquished. A few weeks later, my first mother would return with some diapers and t-shirts for me. She was accompanied by her best friend who waited in the car while my first mother went inside my foster home with the gifts. After a few moments, my mother returned to the car and what transpired in the home between me and my first mother was never mentioned. As they pulled from the curb in front of my temporary home, I often wonder if my first mother knew it would be the last time we saw each other. The amount of time we spent together was minimal. There is no record as to how much time we spent together in the hospital and this last visit appears as if it could be measured with an egg timer not a calendar. Although our interaction was limited, the split from my first mother would affect me the rest of my life.
Last week, I sat in a room in Denver Colorado at the African/Caribbean Heritage Camp and just 3-5 feet from me sat several teenage adoptees. Surprisingly, this was the first time I have ever had the opportunity to sit down with teenage adoptees and talk. I was part of a panel that included African nationals, fellow adoptees, and an African American camp counselor. The panel was about identity and connecting with their transracial origins. About 30 minutes into our discussion reality descended upon me like an unexpected early morning fog. As other panel members spoke to the teenagers, my mind took flight. I was still part of the conversation but preoccupied with other thoughts.
About 10-12 beautiful adoptees sat in front of me ranging from ages 13-17, and mostly female. The thought that keep bouncing around in my head made me sad and very reflective. I wondered if the kids knew just how beautiful and special they all were. Churning over and over in my head was the thought of myself at their age. That split from my first mother played itself out over and over and over in friendships and relationships in ways that I was blinded to at their age but in ways that are so clear to me today. The fracture of the very first relationship I ever had tilted every other relationship since then.
The subtle whispering that crept through my thoughts convinced me of a picture of myself far different than was actually there. It was as if I stood in front of a fun house mirror everyday and the image that reflected back to me was distorted. It was this image that I took with me everyday that told me I wasn’t good enough; I wasn’t worthy. This image and subliminal understanding affected how I interacted with people. It created an invisible line that I rarely would cross. My relationships and friendships were superficial and kept at a safe distance. This protected me from the rejection that I feared and came accustomed to expect. If I only waded in to relationships, I couldn’t be drowned by the rejection that was sure to follow. So I stood back, and watched as others formed deeper relationships and wondered why I couldn’t do the same. I wondered why my emotional roots only went down so far and others had deep strong giant oak-like roots that drew people in and hugged them.
The saddle bags full of issues that accompany adoption are compounded in Transracial adoption. The whispers that bounce around in your head like the digital tennis ball in the video game Pong are verified when the subtle messages from society and not so subtle messages from peers tell you you’re different. Not only do they tell you you’re different but that tell you in a way that cosigns the whispers that say you are not as good. The thoughts are sinister on their own but when something on the exterior supports them it makes it difficult to overcome them.
This all came back to me as I sat in front of these kids and I couldn’t help but wonder how they were affected by this invisible poisonous fog that clings to thoughts and images.
In a predominately white environment, as a child of color at the age of dating I wondered what messages were being sent to these children. Were the messages that they weren’t as beautiful or attractive as the white kids getting through to them? As these teenagers begin the process of pairing up with other teens are some being left out because of the cultural differences in beauty?
It was the girls I worried about the most. The boys of color have, for lack of a better term, better cross over appeal. White girls being attracted to black boys is more common then white boys being attracted to black girls. My fear was that the pursuit of them in the white community is different than if they were in a black community. The girls who would get a great deal of attention in the black community may find the line of friendship stops at dating when you are a female of color in a predominately white community. The message that that sends to a young girl could be devastating. The fun house mirror that I constantly struggle with is making house calls to generations behind me and I wanted to stand up and tell one adoptee at a time that the reduced image of themselves was altered. The image that I see of them stands taller, is more capable, is funnier, kinder, more powerful, and their REAL potential is so bright it was burning my corneas.
I wanted to shout down the whispers that began at that initial separation from their first mother that says they are not good enough. I wanted to summon all the strength I’ve gained from my own powerful introspection and use it to strangle the exterior coy messages that support those whispers.
This was a new realization to me and the information was traveling through my brain at a pace that was hard to digest. It was a series of powerful messages that when organized would be inspiring but at this time the unorganized messages pounding against my skull would only come out as babble, inaudible and incoherent streams of thought. The ability to string the thoughts together without looking like a 42 year old creeper who was telling teenagers they were beautiful was not solidified in this instant.
I left the panel frustrated and saddened because what the kids needed to hear they didn’t get to hear from and the echoes of the thought, “They are better than the image they see,” followed me to lunch.
Still I am frustrated and saddened but inspired because from this encounter will come an amazing message that I will share with the next group, most likely through my tears, as I picture mirror after fun house mirror being shattered and the real images of these beautiful kids emerging. For those who attended the camp please pass this along to your children and let them know, they are better than the image they see.
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THE ADOPTION PROJECT: I am working on a special project that will combine the shared experiences of adult adoptees, First mothers, and Adoptive parents, in a powerful way to send an empowering and inspirational message to today’s adoptees. If you are interested in sharing from your own experience please contact me for the particulars @ Kevin8967@sbcglobal.net. Feel free to share this with other who also may be interested.
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Thank you for helping me to be a better adoptive parent. I try to be as sensitive to the needs of my children and their self-esteem as I can. You always give me more to discuss with them and do to be sure they are confident in who they are and what God created them to be! Thanks!
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Kevin, thank you for your presence at camp. You were so engaged with us and this post left me crying. The weekend with you was a gift for me and my family.
I am crying because we cannot take away that hurt for any of our adoptive children. No amount of love can quell those whispers. It takes love and a lot of intention and some hard work. And people like you, Rhonda, Bryan, Ethan, Tina….
Thank you for helping us understand we can empower our kids to smash those mirrors and smash a few ourselves. They are beautiful and so are you. I hope you will join us again. This Colorado camp mom really loves and appreciates you.
Thank goodness for you and others to help show us the way and help us understand this pain so we can be better parents.
Thank goodness really for camp and our friendships…so we have people to call and email who get it when its hard and confusing. Much love, Morgan Richards
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As a loving devoted intentional birth and adoptive mother I see much of this blog as bashing me in the gut. You focus so much on your being somehow different from everyone around you and only birth mother could understand you. As a parent yourself do you think your kids are so intrinsically unique you are the only person that can understand them? How will you handle it when they scream they hate you you don’t understand at you? What would happen to them if you and your wife died if you are so special that no one else can be there?
You are so mired in your transracial wallowing that you do not see how much courage and determination it takes to parent transracially in this country. You do not acknowledge how much pain a mother takes every day for raising and loving a black child esp in the south coming from friends,family,black and white,schools and systems, how it hurts to shield,translate,educate. How hard it is when blacks demand a child abandon carribean culture so the child matches them ,how black on black violence happens every day even now.
Those of us who adopted did not want our children to go into fostercare bouncing around unloved and neglected. We have paid with money ,privacy and dignity to reach beyond ” skin” fighting processes, ignorance and history. Many of us still fight to make sure that children do not go into fostercare wrongly ( read the story of the Leonard family in Houston) seek to fix wrongs in fostercare, stop the money drive of adoption business all while taking huge amounts of abuse from non involved blacks couched in”you don’t know because you are white”.
Please seek to transcend your skin, look into hearts, get involved in making a difference instead of mental masturbation about your skin. There are real needs,real hurts , real differences that can be made in thousands of lives TODAY but you have to transcend. Read Vernon Johns and MLK writings, really read them. Show me where they write in support of your current attitude.
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Cheryl-
I suggest you keep reading this blog. I think you will find many messages that help you be a better parent. I know I have.
Some of Kevin’s messages are uplifting, some aren’t so easy to take, but overall I think they all help me be a better dad. I do not think you will not find another blog written by an adult adoptee that is as approachable and educational as this one. I read several and recommend this one to adoptive parents more than any other.
I also have an extra copy of Kevin’s book. I would be glad to send it your way. If so, drop me a note.
robertburns3 — at —- gmail.com
Please stick around. I think you wil be glad you did.
Bob
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Excellent response, Bob. I second every word you said and hope Cheryl has opportunity to read them and be humbled by her misunderstanding of this blog.
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Cheryl
As a trans-racial adoptive parent, I find your statements to Kevin to be naive and frankly often offensive. I was at the camp Kevin mentioned and I have known most of those teens for 6 years. And they struggle at times in different ways with being the black children of white parents.
Color does matter Cheryl. We can strive for a post-racial world, we can help build the foundation for it Cheryl, but that utopia does not yet exist.
And I believe if you are adopting or have adopted transracially you will benefit from understanding that race does matter when parenting our children.
Furthermore, I am utterly appalled by your statement…”We have paid with money ,privacy and dignity to reach beyond ” skin” fighting processes, ignorance and history. Many of us still fight to make sure that children do not go into fostercare wrongly ( read the story of the Leonard family in Houston) seek to fix wrongs in fostercare, stop the money drive of adoption business all while taking huge amounts of abuse from non involved blacks couched in”you don’t know because you are white”.
Why are you even mentioning money in regards to your adoption and how it relates to understanding race?
I encourage you to listen, truly listen, to what Kevin shares with us as it may correspond closely to what is happening inside your child. Your responses above might make it very difficult for your child to express any of that to you and create a lot of emotional stress later in life and even a lack of trust in you. And as you would listen to Kevin, I believe you need to listen to your child about what race means to them.
I also find your comment about mental masturbation to be totally off base and offensive. I hope you can get open yourself up more to what Kevin and other transracial adoptees can offer us.
Good luck to you. I also invite you to our camp and you could hear it from more than one adoptee.
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Excuse me but being Kevin’s son I don’t ever recall wanting to or ever think of telling my father I hated him.
My father spends the majority of his time helping others and not “focusing on being somewhat different.” If you have this attitude on a subject that will follow you your entire life there is a guarantee you will have a negative influence on your children as you tried to put that on my father.
If your are in denial of the subject or upset please find more rational ways to vent instead of bothering my father who has no problem with you and never bothered you. I know for a fact that my father does not wallow in anything and yes my parents are the only ones who can understand me in some ways blood related or not.
The slanderous cut of your words will pierce your children as a snake devours a small mouse. They will never open up if you behave in such a manner.
I apologize if anything I said offended you but please do not bother my father with your ignorant arguments again.
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Very eloquently stated! Need I say more?
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Cheryl,
My initial reaction is quite flippantly, What blog did you read?
It is often down played in the adoption community the affects of adoption. The affects to the adoptee and the first mother. That is what I am pointing out. Those things that were never spoken of affect children and first moms in ways that have been pushed under the rug.
Never did I say adoptive parents can’t understand their children but to truly understand them you need to address the deeper issues that I am bringing up.
To say I am mired in transracial wallowing is not only insulting but unkind and superficial. As an adoptee I have a right to say how things affect me. To condemn what I say and dismiss it is old hat. How dare me as an ungrateful adoptee speak up and speak out; Me as a child of color, how dare I speak out about the weight that I carry everyday as a child of color. I should fade into the background bowing saying “please,” and “thank you” for the money, privacy, and dignity YOU sacrificed to give ungrateful and bitter adoptees like me a home.
Really?
I write from the point of view of a transracial adoptee. If you would like to write from the point of view of the transracial mom go right ahead and then I can pick apart youR wallowing as you tell me how hard it is. How hard it is to live with a choice you made to be a TRA mom. When I pick apart your wallowing I will be sure to bring a chorus of violins to play alongside as you tell me how hard it is to be white while you cling to the teachings of MLK as if he is the only person of color who ever said anything of value. I must have missed it when Dr. King spoke about the issues of a TRA.
Really?
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Great post Kevin, I will pass along the project information to my fellow adoptees.
@Cheryl what an unbelievably cruel comment!!!!!! It is people such as yourself that make us adoptees fearful to speak up and share our experiences and true feelings.
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Kevin ~ an amazing post, about an amazing revelation regarding the kids. When I read your words “They are better than the image they see” it brought tears to my eyes. It breaks my heart, as a mother of adoption loss, that something I was made to believe was a “loving choice” could cause such deep-seated loss. My tears were mostly for the kids, but also for their mothers who probably also knew nothing of the pain that adoption could cause.
Unfortunately, the inspiration from reading this post came to a halt as I got to the comment left by Cheryl. It is for people like this that I will continue speaking out about the “loss” side of adoption. Hopefully Cheryl and others like her will one day truly “hear” the first parents and adoptees who speak out about the truth of how adoption effects us.
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Kevin, I’d be interested to hear how you think the current trend of more openness in adoptions (transracial and otherwise) fit into this discussion. Would it have helped you to have had more information about, or even contact with, your first mother as you were growing up? Or do you think it would it have compounded your pain and confusion about your identity? How do you advise adoptive parents go about helping their adoptive children form self-confidence and positive self-esteem? THX!
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Sara,
Yes the more information the better. I think it is important for adoptive parents to understand the issues that may be out there so they can address them. It would have been great to know the thoughts and feelings I had growing up were normal and typical thoughts and feelings of an adoptee.
Information about my first mother and even contact with her would have been good. To know and hear what my mother went through, the pain and anguish associated with relinquishing a child would have meant a lot. Instead I assumed she gave me away and never looked back or thought about me twice.
Again, I think by knowing these issues exist as an adoptive parent help to equip you giving you a better chance to recognize them and address them. It could be as easy as letting the child know the child you see in them. I also think hearing from fellow adoptees who have gone through what they may be going through would be very empowering and encouraging for adoptees.
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Awesome article Kevin! Thanks for sharing.
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I don’t think I can be any more eloquent than Morgan about how moving it was to spend a little time with you at camp, so I’ll just second her response.
But I have to say that, as a white mom in a transracial adoptive family, I’m a little — no, a lot — sick to my stomach after reading Cheryl’s response. (I also had to take a breather before I continued writing, because my claws and teeth started showing…no one messes with *my* family. And you will always and forever be a loved and embraced part of our camp family. And, Bob, you are a kind, patient person.) Besides, I had the same thought: what post did she read? Because I read your post as an extension of the struggle for self-identity we all have–that all teenagers experience–but with a lot of extra stuff going on around adoption and a lot more about race. And it was written without judgement, but with love and compassion and a deep emotional struggle. And I responded to that.
I strive every day to see the world as pluralistic, giving weight and value to differences, to celebrate my kid as unique and wonderful and beautiful, and to help him see that in himself. (And I’m human, so sometimes I fail in that effort.) But, as a white woman, I can never fully, truly understand or share his experience. I can move to inner city so that he doesn’t stand out as much (I did), I can sympathize, be offended on his behalf, stand up for him, do my best to empower him, and try to convince him that he is wonderful. But I come at the world as a privileged individual when it comes to my skin color. I won’t ever deny that. And the second I walk away from my son, the second he’s standing alone amongst friends (or colleagues, or teachers, or doctors, or strangers), the world will see–and treat–him based on the color of his skin. Most likely, they will treat him differently than how they treat me. And this will, in some way, affect how he feels about himself. Which is why I value your voice, and other adult adoptees (Rhonda, I love you too!), among others (like Alex and Arthur and Demetrius, and anyone who is willing to be a role model, to care and teach my kid about his own heritage and a world I can only show him through my own fallible lens).
So, thank you, Kevin. For your voice. For your love and openness. For your approachability. For not losing it in the face of odious, hateful comments. For sharing your story. For sharing yourself. You are beautiful and strong. Inside and out. And we love you.
p.s. I am my kid’s second mother. He is my first son. And he will always hold my heart in his hands. But I still hope, some day, that I can help him connect to his first family. Or at least give him the tools that he needs to do it on his own. Because I understand the pain that can be caused by that lost link. And, as his mom, I want to help him heal that inevitable hole in his heart. I only wish I could do it sooner (it breaks my heart that the connection is not already there).
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I’m so glad you participated in the conference. I’m sure there are so many adoptees out there who need to hear your message. I know your words will make a big difference in their lives.
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I’m sorry for one of the responses – YOU are one of the most moderate adoptee voices out there – unlike me.
Great post and I LOVED it as it was very honest.
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As an adoptive parent, I was absolutely horrified by Cheryl’s response.. I could not even believe that she read the same article I did. We truly appreciate you sharing from your heart Kevin, and taking the risk that you might have to deal with such people . I am sure there are many adoptive parents who are better because of you!!
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Kevin, I know you see from your adult perspective and hard earned wisdom, what the kids at the camp can not. But I’ll point out that the fact that they were at the camp, with other kids like them is a whole dose of powerful medicine in itself. My girls (china adoption) just spent a week at a camp for Asian adoptees, not just China, but Korea and Vietnam. The camp has a period called Culture, but it’s gently about adoption and self esteem, so the awareness of worth builds for little kids. There were lots of teens being normal teens, horsing around, texting, gossiping… who are role models for my 6 & 7 year olds – that they are not alone, not weird, not different.
Thanks for putting yourself out there, there are a lot of us who hear you.
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thank you for all that you share with us.
your blog is an important resource for many of us, please keep posting the tough stuff, i appreciate your willingness to share & to not give up on us second mum’s & dad’s.
but most importantly that you are there for our kids and are articulating what many of them can not as yet, or may not be able to.
i do hope that cheryl takes the time to read your blog in more depth, she & her family certainly need all the help they can get.
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I faithfully follow this blog and learn from it as a transracial adoptive mother. I find Kevin’s insights to be exceptionally valuable on my journey. I am in an inter-racial marriage with a transracially adopted child so I was more than a little horrified by Cheryl’s comments. Her comments and views are one of the main reasons that transracial adoptive parents get a bad name. Her response suggests that she feels she has sacraficed to be a transracially adoptive parent and thus, should be put upon a pedestal and never have her methods or motives questioned???? Seriously??? Her remarks and attitudes scream ignorance and yes, even racism. She would be better to look into her own mirror and question why she thinks that her adopting another race makes her a humanitarian. It doesn’t! I adopted because I wanted to be a mother- that is a pretty selfish reason but it is the truth. I am grateful to this blog and to Kevin for providing such wonderful and nonjudgemental assistance to myself as a transracial adoptive parent. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
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[…] Smashing fun-house mirrors– Will our minority kids be able to see their own worth as people? […]
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Peace! There is much said here to be thankful for and also much that is hurtful to others. We should all be free to express our feeling but we need to take responsibility for them and not project the responsibility for them to others. Cheryl’s append I suspect would not seem so offensive to some if they sat down and talked to the woman face to face. It’s sometimes hard to communicate without offending in written dialog. I also sometimes find myself having some of the feelings that Cheryl raises but on contemplation find them rooted in my desire to protect my African American children in a predominately white state. Sometimes for answers for troubling feelings we have to look deeper within for peace, not wage conflict outward. Fortunately my community has welcomed my children, the population of trans-racial adoptive children is growing leaps here and peace reigns in our corner of the planet.
Now I have to get back to raising three beautiful children here in our mountain valley home. The snow has recently dispersed (maybe for good this time) and spring is approaching. Lots to do.
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