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Transracial Adoptees

Growing up black in a white family
By SALLY ACHARYA

“We had a big white Ford van with windows all around so people could see in. From the inside of the van, I felt like there were all these white heads and then right in the middle this little brown dot . . . When people saw me with my family, they’d do a double take.”
–Shecara, nurse and mother

Thirty years ago a commercial about needy Cambodians prompted a white middle-class couple in an Indiana college town to call a child welfare agency about adopting a Cambodian child. There were no more Cambodians available, they were told, but would they consider a black child?

That’s how Shecara joined a small number of African Americans adopted into white families, a practice estimated to account for barely one percent of all adoptions. Shecara is one of 24 subjects whose memories make up the heart of In Their Own Voices: Transracial Adoptees Tell Their Stories.

It is the latest book by Rita Simon of AU’s School of Public Affairs, whose expertise on the controversial topic has taken her onto Oprah (three times), the Phil Donahue Show, CNN, Good Morning America (her latest appearance was a month ago), and many other forums where transracial adoption has stirred debate.

Simon has argued–often in court, as an unpaid expert witness for white couples wishing to adopt black or biracial children–that long-term studies of emotional and social adjustment have found no difference between transracial and same-race adoptees.

For many years she has faced opposition from the National Association of Black Social Workers, who came out against transracial adoption in 1971 and have continued to warn that adoptees may end up with identity problems and an inability to cope with racism. The controversy made it hard to adopt across racial barriers until a 1996 law prohibited states from denying a person the chance to be adopted due to race, color, or national origin.

Simon’s coauthor is Rhonda Roorda, herself a transracial adoptee, who tracked Simon down at AU after reading her previous books on the subject. They agreed that while long-term studies gave good news on the emotional health of black children in white families, the statistics lacked something essential: a personal voice. What does it mean to not only have a different shade of skin from your parents, but to face different expectations from society at large? How does one build a sense of self? What kinds of adjustments can white parents make to help their black children succeed?

Roorda had already begun collecting interviews for her book idea and had called Simon because “she’s the best in the field,” says Roorda. Simon was enthusiastic about collaborating. With Roorda conducting the interviews and Simon providing the analytical structure, they set out to find people whose lives could supply the kind of complex, fleshed-out answers that statistics alone don’t reveal.
Like Donna Francis. At age two, a cross was burned on her lawn. While the incident itself was not typical, her parents’ response was typical of the life-altering decisions of parents who ultimately raised a well-adjusted child: They moved to an accepting and integrated community.

To Francis, that meant that in adolescence she could explore her identity in a context where she had black friends and role models. “I don’t think that white families living in isolated communities should adopt black children,” Francis, now a doctoral student, says in the book. “Chances are black children will have questions later on about their blackness. And who can they talk to about this? . . . Their parents would love them, I would hope, but parents are not your entire life.”

The fact that statistics show transracial adoptees as emotionally healthy doesn’t mean that getting there is an easy journey, especially given the difficult terrain of black-white relations in the United States. The most surprising finding from the interviews, Simon says, is that love is not enough. She doesn’t see that as a harsh verdict-just a useful realism in a challenging endeavor.

“You also have a responsibility to make children aware of their background,” she says. “If you ignore the fact of race, it could cause more problems than it solved. You have to make more changes in your life if you’re adopting a child of a different background, and especially if you’re adopting an American black.”

For instance, white parents must be prepared for challenges from society they never faced themselves. Stockbroker Seth Himrod recalls how attitudes toward him changed as he matured. “As I got older, I stopped being this cute little boy and others perceived me as this black teenager and menace to society,” he says. “I got pulled over by the cops, I got slammed against the wall with a flashlight up in my face . . . The fact that I was able to go to my dad and see his pain and outrage . . . even though he never experienced it (himself), was a support system for me.”

At some point, many of the adoptees recalled a need to connect with their ethnic roots. A theme that emerges is that even the most accepting parents may have tension with children when their unusual family background complicates their teenager’s search for identity.

Jessica Pelton says, “I’m completely happy with my family and love my family.” Yet when she chose to attend a historically black college and her family arrived in force to help her move in–white parents, Korean brother, her black sister’s white boyfriend–she felt as if everyone was staring at her.

“I was so embarrassed,” she says. “I am trying to make my debut as ‘the black girl.’ It wasn’t working at all! Finally, as soon as everything was moved in–and I do mean the very moment–I wanted my parents to leave . . . My mother got angry and stormed out of the room.”

While adoptive parents may go through a period of feeling rejected by their children, the children often felt they weren’t accepted by other African Americans, particularly as teenagers.

“Whenever I opened my mouth, somebody would say, ‘Why is he talking like that?’ . . . You get really sick of explaining,” recalls Ned, now a teacher. “I think that sometimes who I was as a person was challenging and threatening to [other African Americans]. I was perceived as the ‘Golden Boy’–having the best of both worlds.”

In spite of the challenges, most subjects report feeling close to their parents and strong in their identities. Laurie Goff, who identifies as both black and Jewish, shrugged off awkward moments with humor: “Once [at a private club], this guy said to me, ‘Where is your family?’ I pointed [them out] . . . This guy looked really confused. I told him, ‘It’s a birthmark. If you look in the Guinness Book of Records, you’ll see I have the world’s biggest birthmark.’”

The subjects ultimately insist that race isn’t as important as being placed with a loving family. In spite of the awkwardness Shecara often felt as a child, she now says, “I’d rather have been adopted as a baby by a white family than have been in long-term foster care until a black family came along . . . I know too many people, white and black, who are totally messed up to this day because they didn’t have any family background. The bottom line is that race isn’t as important to me as being placed in a family.”

In Their Own Voices doesn’t gloss over the difficulties. But with the right parents, Roorda says, the experience can be enriching for everyone. “I think I learned what people in black and white America need to learn about reconciliation,” she says. “The skills I’ve learned being in my family goes to what this whole nation has to learn in order to survive.”

Related Posts:

1. Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute Transracial Adoption Report
2. Transracial Adoption