IT HAS BEEN MORE THAN FORTY YEARS since the National Association of Black Social Workers (NABSW) went on record as strongly opposing transracial adoption, particularly the adoption of black and biracial children by white parents. In 1972 the organization declared in an official position statement that “the National Association of Black Social Workers has taken a vehement stand against the placement of black children in white homes for any reason. We affirm the inviolable position of black children in black families where they belong physically, psychologically and culturally in order that they receive the total sense of themselves and develop a sound projection of their future” (Reid-Merritt, 2010, p. 167). Today academics, child welfare and adoption professionals, and concerned families throughout the United States still question whether this policy is effective long term for children of color. (While transracial adoption encompasses all kinds of parent-and-child racial combinations, this book focuses mainly on the adoption of black and biracial children by white parents, given the history of contentious race relations in this country.)
On December 28, 2013, the MSNBC host Melissa Harris-Perry called attention to transracial adoption when she invited comedians to appear on her show for a segment designed to make fun of events that had occurred during the year. Harris-Perry showed her guests a photo of former governor Mitt Romney, his wife, and their twenty-one grandchildren, all of whom are white except for Kieran, a transracial adoptee who is black. Harris-Perry asked her guests to come up with captions for the photo. Pia Glenn sang a popular Sesame Street song, “One of These Things Is Not Like the Others.” Another guest, Dean Obeidallah, joked that the photo reflected the diversity of the Republican Party. Harris-Perry interjected, saying, “My goal is that in 2040, the biggest thing of the year will be the wedding between Kieran Romney and North West. Can you imagine Mitt Romney and [hip-hop mogul] Kanye West as in-laws?” (Ghatt, 2014; Burke, 2013). Later Harris-Perry apologized multiple times on air and in social media for her statements, and for the segment itself, which ultimately belittled a family made through transracial adoption.
The Harris-Perry debacle shows that even in the twenty-first century issues relating to race, identity, and adoption can become fodder for awkward, demeaning, and superficial banter, even in mainstream media. Many young transracial adoptees are living in predominately white environments as the children of white parents, many of whom are convinced that love is enough and that a child’s color is of no consequence. While the latter is a nice sentiment, it has no bearing on social reality in the United States. But as a result of their parents’ policy of color-blindness, many transracial adoptees have learned to minimize their racial difference and accept the values and norms taught by their white parents. These adoptees seem to have found comfortable lives until tasteless and offensive comments, such as those made on MSNBC, force them to confront the duality and contradictions of their lives. And they are then often left to grapple on their own with issues of racial and cultural identity, as well as self-worth, and figure out where they fit within their white adoptive families and communities.
Identity formation is, as Erik Erikson pointed out almost fifty years ago, the most important developmental task of adolescence. Moreover, “a central part of identity development, especially for those who are not in the white-Anglo majority, is ethnic identity. The process of ethnic identity development, according to researchers (Phinney, 1990), in some respects follows the process of identity development in general—in short, an unquestioning view of oneself is altered during a period of ‘crisis’” (“Identity Formation,” 2002, p. 2). Now imagine that a person in the midst of such a crisis is coping not only with the usual adolescent angst but with having been imbued with the norms of white culture and little or no access to black culture. Furthermore, they are struck at the same time with the imperative that they also learn to navigate in a world in which racism and discrimination remain everyday problems.
Langston Hughes refers to a similar conflicting reality in his poem “I, Too, Sing America,” when he envisions a time when he, the darker brother, considered unequal in the eyes of white America, will also “be at the table when company comes.” He ends the poem with these powerful words: “I, too, am America” (Hughes, 1992, p. 326).
“I, too, am America.” In this volume I argue that transracial adoptees who are living in two (or more) different worlds must be specifically and thoroughly taught how to navigate effectively in black or brown skin; otherwise, their self-worth, identity, compassion, and curiosity for learning about other people’s diverse journeys, and the adoptees’ ability to create a vibrant life, will be significantly compromised. Also compromised, and vitally important, will be the authentic relationships transracial adoptees can form and maintain with family members, friends, and eventually spouses and colleagues across socioeconomic, biological, adoptive, and racial lines. Like Langston Hughes, who pleaded that he, too, be embraced as America, I plead with white adoptive parents, social workers, therapists, educators, adoption policy groups, and Americans in general to understand that transracial adoptees are also America and deserve a seat at the table of inclusion and equality instead of having to suffer isolation, lack of preparation, and inequality.
In a recent working paper, “Contexts of Racial Socialization: Are Transracial Adoptive Families More Like Multiracial or White Monoracial Families?” Rose M. Kreider and Elizabeth Raleigh use restricted data from the 2009 American Community Survey (ACS) to compare the racial socialization of three groups: children who were adopted transracially by white parents, children in white monoracial families, and biological children of interracial couples. Kreider and Raleigh define racial socialization as two core components: how children feel about their racial and ethnic identity, and how they are taught to deal with discrimination and prejudice. The authors note that because “white adoptive parents may lack the individual experiences and resources to transmit positive racial socialization messages to their children, the role of community and social environment becomes even more important” (Kreider & Raleigh, 2011, p. 3). What makes their study compelling is that when Kreider and Raleigh looked at the residential patterns or social environments of all three groups, they found that transracially adoptive families were living in less racially diverse areas than children of interracial couples and in areas more similar to those of children in white monoracial families. In fact Kreider and Raleigh’s study showed that Asian or Pacific Islander children who were transracially adopted lived in counties even less diverse racially than the average white child with white parents.
While adoption, including transracial adoption, is a regular occurrence, statistics tracking actual numbers of adoption placements in the United States remain frustratingly sketchy. According to the 2007 National Survey of Adoptive Parents, one out of four adopted children came from other nations; of the remaining children adopted domestically, half were adopted from foster care and half from private sources (Vandivere, Malm, & Radel, 2009). About 4 percent of Americans are adopted, and about half were adopted by people not related to them by blood (Fisher, 2003). The 2007 survey data also show that “adopted children are less likely to be White or of Hispanic origin than children in the general U.S. population, and they are more likely to be Black.” Further, “the race and ethnic distribution of adopted children is different from that of adoptive parents. Whereas a majority of adopted children are nonwhite, the majority of these children’s parents are White (73 percent)” (Vandivere et al., 2009, p. 13). We also know, based on data as of November 2013 from the Adoption and Foster Care Analysis and Reporting System (AFCARS), that during the 2012 fiscal year 397,122 children were in foster care; 101,915 (26 percent) of those children were black, and of those black children in foster care, 26,135 were available for adoption (U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, 2013). It is reasonable to believe that with a disproportionate number of black children in foster care desperately awaiting homes, there will be more transracial adoptive placements in the future.
Despite decades of so-called progress in the desegregation of U.S. society, most transracial adoptive families are still living in racially white homogeneous communities, apart from the adopted children’s ethnic communities of origin and often, I fear, without a multifaceted, multiracial-cultural, and inclusive plan for integrating their family identity. My previous books on transracial adoption, coauthored with Rita J. Simon (Simon & Roorda, 2000, 2007, 2009), document the unintended challenges and pain experienced by adult transracial adoptees (as well as their adoptive parents and nonadopted white siblings) when the adoptees did not develop meaningful and sustainable relationships with friends, role models, godparents, and mentors from diverse ethnic and racial communities to guide and enrich their journeys. At the root of the pain are both the fragile racial and ethnic identities the supposedly color-blind behavior of the parents perpetuates for transracial adoptees and the adoptees’ lonely struggle to navigate the harsh and institutional realities of racism and discrimination (Samuels, 2009; Smith, 2013; Simon & Roorda, 2000).
In Their Voices: Black Americans on Transracial Adoption is offered to readers—especially transracial adoptees, white adoptive parents, nonadopted siblings, social workers, therapists, adoption policy groups, educators, and mainstream America—as chance to hear the desperately needed voices of black Americans on transracial adoption, particularly as their thoughts relate to the challenges faced by black and biracial transracial adoptees raised by white parents, and to appreciate the values, cultural nuances, and inner strength that helped guide these interviewees. Fifty years of data and qualitative studies have shown that the gap between transracial adoptive families and children’s ethnic communities of origin is real, and that if strong ties to communities of color are not developed and nurtured, this void can cause psychological and emotional damage to adopted children of color and their adoptive families, with generational consequences (Simon & Roorda, 2000, 2007, 2009; Smith, 2013; Kreider & Raleigh, 2011; Samuels, 2009). For that reason the thoughtful voices of the black men and women within these chapters are offered to help narrow the knowledge and experiential gap that is evident in the discussion and study of transracial adoption.
About the Interviews
I interviewed the sixteen individuals featured in In Their Voices. Their perspectives are based on their unique personal, educational, socioeconomic, and professional experiences, yet they share common experiences as black Americans and have a stake in the betterment of black and biracial transracial adoptees and families. These men and women became involved in this project after I connected with them through Facebook, LinkedIn, the Internet, and/or personal friendships; a few individuals reached out to me because they wanted to share their experiences. All but one of the interviews were conducted over the telephone. Each interview lasted at least one and a half hours. I taped the interviews, transcribed them, and then sent them to the interviewees for their approval. I also asked participants how they wanted to be identified. One participant, “Lora Kay,” requested a pseudonym, another one preferred to be identified by first name only, and the others wanted their real names used in full. I honored the wishes of every interviewee. The interviews and my questions were lightly edited; they remain colloquial, but I have smoothed out some of the more tortuous constructions and grammatical errors to which we are all prone in conversation.
The participants (eight men and eight women) work in a wide array of fields. They range in age as well, from twenty-one through ninety-two. Three participants grew up during the Jim Crow era, four during the civil rights era, and nine during the post–civil rights era. The interviews in this collection are organized according to this rough chronology, so readers can better understand how race has affected black Americans from the era of Jim Crow to the present day and, more specifically, how the participants’ lives were shaped by the era in which they lived. From these perspectives they share their views on the adoption and raising of black and biracial children by white American parents.
Most participants grew up in inner cities throughout the United States, including Washington, D.C.; New York City; Memphis, Tennessee; Hollywood, Florida; Toledo, Ohio; Chicago; Denver; and Sacramento. Three participants grew up in rural areas of North Carolina, Georgia, and Oklahoma.
In terms of their education, twelve of the sixteen participants have achieved at least a bachelor’s degree, and of those seven have completed, or are in the process of completing, graduate degrees. Of the remaining four participants, one completed ninth grade, two earned their high school diplomas, and one completed an associate’s degree. Three of the sixteen participants graduated from a historically black college.
Their family lives varied greatly as well. Ten of the sixteen participants were raised in a two-parent household. The other six were raised by single mothers. Three of the sixteen participants were formally adopted, two by black parents and one by white parents. One participant who was adopted by black parents did not learn until he was thirty-two that he was adopted. And another participant who was transracially adopted spent a significant number of years in the foster care system before being placed in an adoptive home. Three of the participants from single mother households, and even three from two-parent households, were informally adopted by grandparents, aunts, uncles, and church members. In addition two of the sixteen participants formally adopted a child themselves, and another participant has discussed formal adoption with her husband as a desirable option for their family. Finally, most of the participants have interacted with transracial adoptive families on some level, whether in their professional careers or because they have taken it upon themselves to mentor a black or biracial adoptee or contribute their expertise to the transracial adoptive community.
The interviews were designed to offer a structured yet compelling and intimate conversation on race, adoption, and identity. I was particularly interested in discussing certain topics with the interviewees: how they address racial discrimination and injustice in their own lives; what it means for them to be black in America; as parents, how they help prepare their children emotionally and psychologically for the society in which we live; their suggestions and words of encouragement for white adoptive parents committed to nurturing their black and biracial children to their full potential; and much, much more. I hope that from these pages readers will gain a cultural and adoptive intelligence that can help them better understand and navigate the realities of transracial adoption.
My conviction to move forward on this project stems from my personal investment in the transracial adoptive community and the desire for adopted children of color raised transracially to absorb that they are beautiful, worthy, connected to their historical story, and full of promise. It also stems from my personal history as a transracial adoptee. In 1969, shortly after my birth, I entered the New York foster care system and survived there for two years before being placed in a home with white parents of Dutch heritage. At the time, given the many black and biracial children waiting for placement in adoptive homes, my adoption was nothing short of a miracle. However, the physical and emotional separation from my biological family (and community) left me feeling deep pain, loss, instability, powerlessness, and fear. I was fortunate to gain an adoptive family that provided me with a solid foundation, so I could plant my limp and fragile roots and have the chance to dream and grow. By being a part of my adoptive family, I learned through trial and error, and sometimes through fire, how to love, forgive, fall down, get back up, and pay it forward. Not a day goes by that I do not recognize that my path in life, and the privileges I have enjoyed that come from living in a white family, have guided me with comfort, flexibility, and confidence through the doors of higher education, social networks, and employment opportunities. As a result of my life’s journey, and the many transracial adoptive parents I have met who love and care for their children and are working hard to do right by them, I endorse the practice of transracial adoption, fully aware that this remains a complex, bold, and controversial experience for families and especially for the transracial adoptee.
Recently I had the opportunity to speak at an African American heritage camp for transracial adoptive families. The goals of this particular camp (and others like it around the country) are for transracially adopted children to become connected to their rich heritage, in the hope that they will become well-adjusted individuals with high self-esteem and for their white adoptive parents to develop more knowledge and comfort around the issues of race, culture, and adoption that inevitably affect their families. At this camp the transracial adoptive families ate foods traditional to the African American community and celebrated African American culture through dance, art, and hair-care activities. For many of these children and parents, a camp like this is the only opportunity they have each year to really immerse themselves in aspects of the African American experience and connect with African Americans.
Still, it is difficult for the transracial adoptive families who attend to translate their new knowledge to their day-to-day lives. At one camp activity I attended, the parents broke into groups to discuss particular topics specific to transracial adoption. One of the most popular topics, with roughly forty people in the group, was building relationships in the black community. Group members agreed that, because few of them had black friends, or knew how to make connections in the black community, expecting to develop relationships in the black community was unrealistic. In my experience this is a common response. I think it is easier for transracial adoptive families to live in white communities and deny that race matters—until they become consciously aware that their children are judged or treated poorly because of the color of their skin. When that happens, the parents can no longer hold to a color-blind worldview. It takes tremendous courage and introspection for these parents to examine their own thoughts about their children’s ethnic communities of origin, as well as the privileges that come for no other reason than being white in America. Doing so also requires transracial adoptive parents to push beyond their racial and socioeconomic comfort zones and take tangible risks to build equal and sustainable relationships with people who look like their children.
As I left the camp that morning almost in tears, I was reminded of the parallel but separate worlds—one white and one black or brown—that are separated by discomfort, fear, stereotypes, anxieties, and lack of awareness. Just as I was feeling most disheartened, a group of eight-year-old transracially adopted African American girls ran toward me to greet me. They had just had their hair braided at a hair-care workshop organized by African American women in the local community. These children wrapped their arms around me with hope in their eyes and excitement shining through their beautiful faces. They shrieked in unison and with great delight: “Ms. Rhonda, do you like my hair?! Look at my colorful beads! It took a long time to get my hair done, but I didn’t cry. I feel pretty!” I felt hope that this new generation of girls and boys would became aware of the history and present state of race in this country and learn how to rise above it to understand their true worth and that they are powerful beyond measure. I hope they will give this gift of empowerment to the generation of transracial adoptees behind them.
About the Book
The introduction, Moving Beyond the Controversy of the Transracial Adoption of Black and Biracial Children (which has been adapted from the version originally published in 2007 by Sage), covers the general history of transracial adoption, its ramifications for black and biracial adoptees, and the controversies surrounding it. The introduction also addresses the importance of the voices of black Americans in conversations about transracial adoption.
Conversations with the interviewees are organized roughly chronologically to illustrate how race has affected black Americans from the era of Jim Crow to the present day. From that platform the participants share their perspectives on transracial adoption, specifically, the adoption of black and biracial children by white American parents. In the conclusion I identify the key themes raised by the participants in this book that specifically address the needs of black and biracial transracial adoptees. In the afterword I examine current adoption policy. I make suggestions, based largely on the interviews here and from the findings in the Simon-Roorda trilogy of books on transracial adoption, about how to amend that policy for the betterment of children and families. Finally, in the appendix I describe a multicultural adoption plan that I hope will offer white adoptive parents in particular concrete guidelines for encouraging their child of color to develop a healthy racial identity and self-esteem. (Both the appendix and the afterword have been adapted from the version originally published in 2007 by Sage.)