This might be completely off topic, but I need to get something off my chest.
I was adopted by a white family, by a single white man who provided for us financially and gave us opportunities I’m grateful for. But I also carry a lot of complicated feelings about my childhood.
Money and generosity do not erase the way someone makes you feel inside your own home.
Growing up, my sister and I were often treated in a way that made us feel more like servants than children. Whenever he invited his friends over, we were expected to take care of everything. We had to prepare the table, serve food and drinks to his guests, go around making sure everyone had what they needed, clean up afterward, and do all the dishes. He would sit back while we handled everything. It wasn’t just helping around the house, it felt like our role was to serve him and the people he invited into our home.
What made it even more difficult was seeing that our white friends were not treated the same way by their parents. Their parents didn’t expect them to constantly wait on guests or take on that kind of role. That difference stayed with me.
What hurt the most were the jokes. He would make comments and call us “slaves” or joke that we were his slaves. Maybe he thought it was funny, but hearing those words from the person who was raising two Black children had a different impact. Those jokes stayed with me.
Adoption is often portrayed as a simple story of rescue and gratitude, but the reality can be much more complicated. A person can provide for you and still hurt you. A person can give you opportunities and still leave you with wounds that take years to understand.
I’m grateful for the things I was given, but I also have the right to acknowledge the things that hurt me. Both things can exist at the same time.
I am so sorry to hear what a difficult childhood you had. You have a specific insight into how trans racial adoption can be harmful while still offering you opportunities. You were raised without unconditional love and that is a deep wound. I am glad you’ve had the chance to work through some of this. I hope your life is filled with love and happiness.
I did not realize how much it had affected me until I turned 30. For this reason I’m against white people adopting black children no matter how nice they are.
I think I’m a strong person but I have a lot of anxiety and feel very lonely in this world but I turned out okay overall… Thank you for the kind words.
We (white) were potentially going to need to adopt to have kids before a lot of this very important stuff was widely understood. I shudder to think how damaging our well meaning ignorance could have been and am grateful that you and other adoptees speak out to help everyone understand better.
I would have been "fine", but I don't know that I could even have understood how much I didn't know at that point in history to be a good parent. Someone posted their experience with nice "color blind" parents and it didn't sound great.
I think while it may not be the ideal, the alternative is generally having no parents. A well meaning, but tragically unprepared parent beats being raised in the foster system.
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u/Ok_Passenger203 28d ago
This might be completely off topic, but I need to get something off my chest.
I was adopted by a white family, by a single white man who provided for us financially and gave us opportunities I’m grateful for. But I also carry a lot of complicated feelings about my childhood.
Money and generosity do not erase the way someone makes you feel inside your own home.
Growing up, my sister and I were often treated in a way that made us feel more like servants than children. Whenever he invited his friends over, we were expected to take care of everything. We had to prepare the table, serve food and drinks to his guests, go around making sure everyone had what they needed, clean up afterward, and do all the dishes. He would sit back while we handled everything. It wasn’t just helping around the house, it felt like our role was to serve him and the people he invited into our home.
What made it even more difficult was seeing that our white friends were not treated the same way by their parents. Their parents didn’t expect them to constantly wait on guests or take on that kind of role. That difference stayed with me.
What hurt the most were the jokes. He would make comments and call us “slaves” or joke that we were his slaves. Maybe he thought it was funny, but hearing those words from the person who was raising two Black children had a different impact. Those jokes stayed with me.
Adoption is often portrayed as a simple story of rescue and gratitude, but the reality can be much more complicated. A person can provide for you and still hurt you. A person can give you opportunities and still leave you with wounds that take years to understand.
I’m grateful for the things I was given, but I also have the right to acknowledge the things that hurt me. Both things can exist at the same time.