National Adoption Awareness Month 2019

I have read many blogs and articles by adoptive parents and adoptees. It astounds me to hear some of the comments and questions they are faced with as transracial families. Especially since I myself have a mixed race family and have never been asked directly or heard statements that many transracial families have heard. Partly, I think because White adoptive parents maintain their White social groups whereas mixed race families usually have expanded their racial social makeup.

I experienced this first hand one time while visiting Noah’s family in NE.

Sunday morning, we went to their church. I was introduced to one couple with an explanation of who I was. It seemed they had previously been informed of our open adoption relationship and wanted to learn more.

They, who appeared to be White, were married and raised a family, bio kids, who were now grown. They were now fostering a young boy who looked Latino. I think they were about to move from fostering to adoption. But I think they also wanted to maintain a connection with the boy’s mom.

Noah’s parents wanted to invite them over for dinner later that day. They let me know the couple wanted to spend more time with us. While I felt like an experiment, I knew it could impact this young boy and it was worth doing what I could to help.

They came for dinner with their young son.

After dinner is when things got interesting. The guys were downstairs watching TV in the basement. Upstairs, adoption soon became the topic. I started out learning that the husband of the couple was an adoptee himself. His siblings were also adopted. The wife began to talk about their race/ethnic guessing of her husband. She said that they (her husband’s parents and them) think he “may” have Latino or Hispanic. Then she begins to discuss the adopted brother of her husband and in a different tone says they “suspect” he has Black in him.

The words caught me instantly! I am sure no one else thought anything of it. I thought, wow, the brother who could possibly be Black is already a “suspect” without doing anything but being born. Why did she change her words from “may have Latino” to “suspects he is Black”? It’s not like HE was hiding is race. Was it because the agency purposefully withheld this info or truly didn’t know? Or because if the adoptive parents knew, they would not have adopted him? This was probably in the sixties so a different time no doubt. Did the possibly Black brother need to hide his Blackness in order to maintain his place in the White family?

Noah just happened to come upstairs in the middle of this conversation. I became immediately concerned about the impact on him. I looked at him and tried to interpret his facial expressions and body language. Even though I am not his parenting mother, I am still his mother and worry about him as an adoptee and a mixed race male.

Then the conversation turns to transracial adoption. The wife then drops the bomb.

She said (while referencing to Black/African), “We could never adopt a child of mixed race.” She went on to say that she thought raising a child of another race would be too hard. As she said the final too words, Noah looks directly to her and said, “too hard” in sync with her. My heart sank. I was dumbfounded and speechless. I could not believe she made this statement in front of my son or in front of me.

I began to wonder how often my son Noah had to endure comments like this. What message is this saying to him? Raising him is more challenging than raising White kids?

Then she looks at Noah’s mom and provides praise to her for raising a mixed race adoptee. Noah’s mom just silently stares at her.

And here I am, standing among this group as the microaggressions of racism seep out into this conversation and not one considers the impact on me or my son. Should I feel more ashamed for organically conceiving mixed race kids and birthing them or for relinquishing my rights to one so a White family could raise him in a difficult and bias world. To be honest, it is the latter. But this was the first time I was made to swallow the rife first hand, as if I was subhuman.

Thankfully, Jaren was downstairs. And I wonder if he was present, would the conversation have even veered in that direction.

These conversations are not something I have encountered as a parenting mother of a mixed race son. Nor have I heard someone tell Jaren that they couldn’t raise mixed race children because it would be too difficult. Nor thank me in front of Jaren for raising a mixed race son as if my role was superior to that of any other mother or father parenting their child. What an awful burden to place on a child.

These conversations are for White folks who feel safe in White spaces. I look back at this conversation and get angry with myself. I wish I had stuck up for myself and my sons. I should have explained that I am proud to have mixed race sons. They were conceived out of deep love and passion for their father. And nothing about their race makes it difficult for me to parent. I am fiercely protective of both of them.

Being Black should never be something to hide or feel ashamed of. Nor should a child be made to feel guilty for being born Black, or told their race or “blackness” makes life more difficult for their family.

How Will You Change Your Mind About Adoption

#NAAM

Adoption: Beyond Myths, Misgivings, and Mayhem

by: Liz DeBetta

I teach writing at a university in Utah, which is a very white, conservative, pro-adoption state. Just this week my students gave presentations in class called “Book Talks” based on a memoir/non-fiction book of their choice. I had given them a list of options at the beginning of the semester and each group chose different books. One group decided to read Ann Fessler’s The Girls Who Went Away and presented their reactions and analysis to the class. I was impressed with the amount of thought these college freshman put into their presentation and the level of insight they had on a time period and subject matter that has little to do with them and is so far removed from the time and place they live in. 

Perhaps the thing that stuck out to me the most was that these three students were acutely aware of the fact…

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Facebook: Red Table Talk; Transracial Adoptee

Red Table Talk, Raised by White Parents; A Black Transracial Adoptee

Great job Red Table Talk! Thank you so very much.

As a transracial adoptee, Angela is responding in the way she was raised. Sadly her family did not embrace people of her culture. I call this culture genocide or an ethnic crime.

I am not against transracial adoption. Noah is a transracial adoptee. But when white people raise their black and brown children in white culture or teach them only the adoptive family’s ethnic heritage or culture (German, Italian, etc) but not the ethnicity of their adoptee, that is a huge disservice to their child. It says your culture is not as important as ours in this family. I always wonder how white adoptive parents can love a black child but not the Black community. How do they go 18+ years of embracing new friends, family, and neighbors who all happen to be white but claim they are color blind? How does that happen? That is not natural or unbiased living.

I love that Jada and Willow and Gammy gave a transracial adoptee and a birth parent a seat at the table. Willow shared some deep talk for such a young woman, I love that Gammy was outspoken and passionate in this table talk. She has experience as a black woman and a black mother. She is right. Angela didn’t have a say on being adopted or how she was raised. Her insecurities stem from her lack of Black culture and understanding her place in the Black community. And let us not forget she is an adoptee which comes with inherit emotional consequences. But also, like Gammy said, Angela can change that. It would be similar to a white person who was raised with racism. Once they become an adult, they have the choice to educate themselves and decide which path they want to take. I hope that Angela steps out of her comfort zone and begins to embrace her roots. In today’s America, there really is no excuse that ANY family should live in a bubble no matter your color or culture. But especially transracial adoptive parents.

I am grateful to Ms. Debra and Angela’s parents taking a seat at the table and allowing those tough questions to be asked.

Lastly, I truly appreciate Angela’s honesty, sharing her story and her vulnerability so that others can learn. By taking a seat at this table and inviting us into her journey, her space, she educated so many on the many layers of adoption. We know that not one person speaks for everyone. But Angela has been given a platform. She does her best to give all sides light and exposure. She is bringing those pieces that have been dark and hidden for so long to the surface and it feels wonderful to be seen and heard with compassion. Thank you, Angela.

 

Gallery

Gladney’s Birthmother App: Same Game, Different Name

Wow, I am in shock at the audacity of Gladney. I am thankful this blogger took the time to capture all this information before it was removed. Proof of what we have been saying. And not only the agencies use these tactics. Even our own family.

velvet bocephus

Babies on Demand

In a 2016 post from The Federalist, “Why So Many Families Who Want To Adopt Can’t”, there was a claim that “Nearly two million infertile couples in the United States are actively trying to adopt a child.” Most articles do estimate waiting couples to be between 1 million and 2 million; child meaning infant specifically. In the same article, it was estimated that the average couple spends “as much as $45,000 to an adoption agency” during the process of (infant) adoption. In a 2017 post from AP News, “As number of adoptions drops, many US agencies face strains”, it was stated that “the number of infant adoptions remained relatively stable at about 18,000.” The drops have been seen in other forms of adoption, specifically international.

***

If we do the math, that is:

2,000,000 waiting couples / 18,0000 infants adopted = 111 waiting couples…

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Root Cause

My sons (now 19 and 21 years) and I, took a road trip from Texas to New Jersey this summer. It was our first trip as a family, just us three. It was a great bonding experience. I loved having my two sons with me and seeing them connect as brothers. I learned so much about them, especially my youngest. It was amazing how easy it felt for me. I felt balanced. It was also an opportunity to see how adoption has impacted my family.

Both sons helped me drive. My youngest, during a bathroom stop, asked me if he was a better driver than my oldest when just he and I were walking back to the car.

This was not the first time my youngest asked me a question like this and I found myself wondering about the root cause.

I remember our first reunion, six years after his birth. It seemed like there was this need for competition, which is not uncommon for siblings, especially brothers. But my sons (then 6 and 8 years) had not lived as brothers under the same roof. It all started with the bike riding. My youngest had more skill and practice at the time. They were trying to out-race each other which ended badly. Thank goodness no one was physically hurt. But some egos and feelings did get hurt.

Then, the day before we left to return home, my youngest got close to the video camera, lowered his voice and asked if his older brother had worst behavior than him. I was caught off-guard at first. My oldest overheard  him and they joked back and forth which one was worse behaved. I remember having petty arguments with my siblings about who was better. This usually started as a chatted debate with the other sibling. Then, if it could not be resolved, we would enlist our other siblings or a parent to help decide. Since my youngest asked nonchalantly and jokingly, I didn’t think much of it.

Over the years, when our families were visiting each other, them driving down to visit us or us driving up to visit them, my youngest would present a question of comparison. He did so quietly and secretly to me alone. It was always a comparison between him and his older biological brother. However, it was no longer as a light-hearted joke between siblings, but rather a sincere inquiry and a need to know. It concerned me. I would respond as tactfully as I could, trying to deflect while reassuring my youngest that neither was better.

It seemed like others were often comparing my sons. Some wanted to focus on their differences; their hair, their skin tone, their height. For me, none of it was important. I saw too beautiful babies, boys, and now men.

My youngest would sometimes say his brother was darker than him. I found that strange. Technically, my youngest has darker features than my oldest. My oldest has lighter hair, eyes, and skin tone.

I wondered what prompted my youngest to say this. Did he hear someone say his brother looked “more black” than him and in his young, innocent mind, he interpreted it as his brother was darker than him?

My oldest son has never initiated a question like this or compared his younger brother with himself verbally to me. He has yet to ask for my validation between him and his younger brother. That’s not to say that he has never wondered. Naturally, as humans, we all have wondered at some point or another, but we may not always communicate it. Since my youngest communicated it almost every time we visited each other throughout his childhood and now young adulthood, it is a real concern for me. I wonder what has prompted this and why he needs to ask or know if he is better than his brother in my eyes.

Was there a need to be better than by his parents, his family, his friends, or his community than his birth family because he was adopted? Did he grow up with comparison within his family? Is it related to relinquishment and adoption? Did he hear comments? Did he believe that I chose to parent my first born but not him because one was better than the other. Or is it something else completely or possibly all of it combined?

My sons both have unique personalities, skills, and talents that make them special. One is athletic and loves sports; one is creative and loves the arts. They are both really funny and make me laugh. They both have a heart of gold and a quality that is uniquely their own and I love them both!

Measuring or weighing our children is impossible. We can’t measure or weigh skills and talents or our love for them.

 

Yesterday

Yesterday, I drove from Dallas to Houston to attend the funeral of my dear friend’s mother. I had only met Ms. Shirley a couple times but I knew her through her daughter, my friend of seventeen years. I knew her through her legacy of her children, and grandchildren; their compassion and yet strong character, their will to succeed as humans and as citizens in a society that can be flawed and heartless at times.

The ministers announced that we were there to celebrate Ms. Shirley and her life. And it truly felt like a celebration.

All those who came to speak, knew Ms. Shirley personally. They referenced, “It takes a village” and said Ms. Shirley had a devotion to her “village” which included not only her kids, but her extended family; nieces and nephews, grandchildren, and even those in her community. Two people from the neighborhood stood up to speak on behalf of the neighbors. One woman, a childhood friend of Ms. Shirley’s daughter, who grew up in the neighborhood, shared that Ms. Shirley often times led that village. Ms. Shirley looked out for her neighbors and was there for the kids in her community. She always had food to share, an ear to listen, and a home that kids could visit and feel safe. She was the neighborhood friend, mother, or grandmother that helped keep her community strong. The woman then expressed her gratitude to Ms. Shirley and asked all those villagers from the neighborhood to stand, which they did so proudly.

The minister referenced “the dash”.  He asked if we all knew what the dash meant and then went on to explain. On our tombstone, we have a date of birth. Then we have a date of death. The dash between those two dates represent all the time we spend in between life and death.

Ms. Shirley, who married, had six children, was widowed, and became a single working mother, was still able to find food, time, and money for not only her family, but also for her village. Her nephew declared that her faith carried her through difficult times.  Then he joked how Ms. Shirley sometimes would say that the younger generation didn’t know how to stretch a dollar. As a single mother myself. I could appreciate that. Although, I only had two mouths to feed, mine and my son’s, I still understood what it meant to be on your own and how to make a dollar stretch.

As I sat there in the pew, I heard one minister say how Ms. Shirley would not come back for anything in the world because she was at home, in peace with her father in heaven. While I do mostly agree, in my ear, I heard her say that she would give one more day to be with her kids. I couldn’t help but wonder if Ms. Shirley whispered this in my ear so I could share her words with her children. And what loving mother wouldn’t give to have one more day with her kids. Being a mother myself, given the chance, I would. And no doubt in my mind, that Ms. Shirley would also.

As mothers, we try to impart our wisdom, our teachings, and our lessons to our kids so that we can prepare them for their future. Our legacy is not only in their genes, but in our words spoken to them and in their childhood experiences and memories. Every moment we spend nurturing our children carries on to future generations.

The same is true for those in our community. Our kids are paying attention. I remember on two different occasions my sons acknowledging me for something I did for another person, a random act of kindness. Afterwards, they said, “That was really nice of you”. Funny, because I don’t remember what I did, but I remember their response. It touched me greatly. I thought to myself, these are lessons I want my sons to remember. No doubt, that Ms. Shirley’s children were impacted by her generosity and outreach in her community. I know that my friend, her daughter, is one of the most generous and giving persons I know and I feel truly blessed to call her friend.

In a world where we hear too often about mass shootings, hatred, bigotry, and divisive opinions, it is so refreshing to hear about one woman who loved her family and her community and how that community grew, bonded and became stronger because of her.

 

“It is easier to build strong children than to repair broken men.” Frederick Douglass

 

The Dash Poem, by Linda Ellis

I read of a man who stood to speak
At the funeral of a friend
He referred to the dates on the tombstone
From the beginning…to the end

He noted that first came the date of birth
And spoke the following date with tears,
But he said what mattered most of all
Was the dash between those years

For that dash represents all the time
That they spent alive on earth.
And now only those who loved them
Know what that little line is worth

For it matters not, how much we own,
The cars…the house…the cash.
What matters is how we live and love
And how we spend our dash.

So, think about this long and hard.
Are there things you’d like to change?
For you never know how much time is left
That can still be rearranged.

If we could just slow down enough
To consider what’s true and real
And always try to understand
The way other people feel.

And be less quick to anger
And show appreciation more
And love the people in our lives
Like we’ve never loved before.

If we treat each other with respect
And more often wear a smile,
Remembering this special dash
Might only last a little while

So, when your eulogy is being read
With your life’s actions to rehash…
Would you be proud of the things they say
About how you spent YOUR dash?

Child abuse is 40 times more likely when single parents find new partners

Child abuse is 40 times more likely when single parents find new partners

“To understand this increased risk of sexual or physical harm, it is helpful to consider the lack of oversight which occurs when both biological parents are no longer working as a team. Ideally, parents work together to teach children body safe rules, observe children in play particularly with older peers, and thoughtfully choose care providers. Post-divorce, this doesn’t always happen. Another explanation for these increased risks of harm connects to the potential negative/dangerous role older step/bonus siblings can play in the lives of younger children. (Even when sexual or physical abuse by an older step/bonus sibling is not a factor, children who live with step/bonus siblings are more aggressive.) Yet, most significantly, one must face the difficult truth that the primary cause of harm to children in blended family settings is the unrelated, usually male, adult – brought into the mix through romantic involvement with the biological parent.”

Texas Adult Adoptee’s propose HB2725

To all my Texas peep,

We would like to ask for your support, either by calling your representative, or emailing them. You do not need to be a birth parent, adoptee, or an adoptive parent to support HB2725 (which gives adult adoptees the option to access their original birth certificate). But if HB2725 aligns with your beliefs, please reach out.

This is what I wrote to my Representative:

I am a constituent of yours and I want to thank you for your support of the adoptee HB2725. It has been a long fight for those who have been working on this year after year with great passion and some heartache.

Adoptees just want fair and equal rights like all other Americans.

I am a birth mother. I had the great honor of giving birth to two sons. One I parented. And one was adopted out. I was lucky to have an open adoption relationship.

My sons are now 19 and 20 years old and I am very proud of the men they are becoming. However, they both do not have equal access rights to their original birth certificate. I see my sons as equals, as adults, as Americans, but it is discouraging that the state does not see them both as equals because of MY decision. It feels like one of my sons is being punished because of MY choice. No one ever promised me anonymity when I signed relinquishment papers nor should they.

Growing up adopted comes with its unique life experiences. And it impacts each adoptee in many different ways. HB2725 has the power to restore dignity, bring awareness and knowledge, and mend broken pieces. Most importantly, it allows adult adoptees to own what is rightfully theirs by birth.

Thank you so much for your support and consideration,

Karen
Constituent