By bringing two children of color into their family, my parents expressed deeply held beliefs about people from different cultures. To their four children, extended family and community, they conveyed anti-racist, socially responsible and humane values. This is the greatest thing my parents have done for me. As an adult, it enables me to transcend society’s delimited notions of black and white, majority and minority, allowing me to embrace multiculturalism and view issues from a place of enlightenment.

My parents’ approach in raising the four of us was “color-blind.” As devout Christians, “color-blind” reflected the values touted by the late, great Martin Luther King who longed for his children to be judged by the “content of their character” instead of their race. My mother, a slimmer, yet just as sweet, version of Edith Bunker from “All in the Family” encouraged harmony within her family, including her two white biological children and adopted biracial/African American daughter, myself, and Native American son. She was always kind to everyone.

The first time my older, white brother called me a “nigger,” I didn’t know what hit me. Such an extent of racial abuse was not condoned, let alone learned from my parents. Nonetheless, on an intuitive level, I knew the racial insult hurled at me was violent, enduring and divisive. My parents took turns talking to their eldest son about his racial views and treatment of me but to no avail. He avoided these conversations, shrugged off their instruction, and continued to treat me as if I were a contaminated outsider.

The “color-blind” perspective incorporated by my parents was both the greatest and most harmful manner of raising my Native American brother and I. While it propelled me to heights of multicultural idealism, it wasn’t fervent enough to force decisive action against my white brother or to destroy the racism that seeped into our household. This dichotomy between “good color-blind” and “bad color-blind” is something all parents of different-race children must balance. I doubt that my parents ever allowed themselves to consider the possibility of deeply held biases within them that prevented them from extracting a just cost from my brother for the price of racism I paid. Balancing white and black, white and Native American, biological and adopted, seemed to overwhelm the simple notions my parents lived by.

~Teresa Marie Fiedler

_______________________________________________________

My parents could not have been more supportive of me as an adoptee. Being one of four adopted children, I was always encouraged to explore my identity, culture and what it meant to be adopted. My parents were involved in adoptive organizations from the time we were little kids. We always went to camps and activities for adoptive families when we were growing up.

We lived in Minnesota when I was adopted and there has always been a large concentration of Korean adoptees in that area. I always had heavy interaction with other adopted kids my age. Every place we moved my parents sought out that city’s adoptive community and organizations. I knew what it meant to be adopted from a young age because of this. My mom and dad always made sure that I had the opportunity to learn about Korean culture. They bought me Korean books, had me take Tae Kwon Do, and my mom cooks very good Korean food. Into my teen years my parents still made sure that I was being supported as an adoptee. They sent me back to Minnesota for a teen Korean culture camp that was a week-long. I always had so much fun there and felt so much a part of an adopted community. They gave me what resources they knew about if I was ever interested in tracking my birth parents. I never did have the real desire to pursue that, but they were supportive in that aspect.

So, I guess if there is a single most important thing that my parents did to support me as an adoptee it is involvement. I think involvement is so important for adoptive families. There are so many families out there with the same questions, issues and adopted children who would love to meet each other. I feel fortunate that my parents kept themselves and me so involved throughout my years growing up.

~Peter Moran

_______________________________________________________

Throughout my life I have searched for answers to several questions. What is adoption, why do parents choose to relinquish their children, how do adoptees cope, how do we find our own identity, and most importantly, how to value the journey of self-discovery? My parents have supported me through encouraging my curiosity and sharing my enthusiasm for learning about the process.

I can recall coming home one day after school feeling angry, frustrated and confused. I had never been around many Asian American students during my years in elementary, middle and high school. It was not until I turned 16 did I truly have to face my issues with adoption and its deeper meaning in my life. I found myself in confrontation with another student who told me that I was sheltered from my culture and race. Although her words were more juvenile, I finally understood why I was so upset. I never took the time to address my concerns with adoption. I never took time out to investigate or ask any questions beyond my own personal story.

I was initially angry and eventually found outlets to vent my frustrations. During my junior year of high school I was required to independently explore subject matter for an art show later on in the year. I also was assigned to write an extended essay on any topic I desired. I chose to address adoption in both assignments. I painted my personal feelings out on canvas, and embarked on extensive research for my paper. During my research I found out that my experiences and emotions were not so different from many others. I discovered that what I was feeling was actually common in several ways, and that is a comforting thought. My parents were nothing short of helpful in encouraging my drive to find out more, and also to answer any questions I had. They were 100 percent honest with me. This is what all adoptees need in their lives, true and absolute honesty from their parents.

I do not believe I could be as comfortable and open about my issues if it were not for their undying love and relentless candor. The environment they have created at home has motivated me to share my experience and knowledge with others. My involvement in the adopted network will never end, because I could not imagine life without it. I support this network just as much as it supports me.

~Krystal Kyeong Cummings

_______________________________________________________

When it comes down to it, and I strip away all of the nuances — unconditional love and support. I know that sounds incredibly cliche, but in a crystallized form, it’s true.

I was one of the fortunate ones from my generation of Vietnamese adoptees to be brought into a loving, honest and functional family. I have definitely come to realize that it was my parents’ unconditional love and support that has empowered me to become the man I am today, and this has hit home even more so now as I am a father myself.

When I came to the United States from Saigon in 1975, transracial adoptions were not nearly as accepted as they are today — my generation’s adoptive parents were some of the true pioneers of transracial adoption. Listservs and online discussion groups did not exist, and culture camps were few and far between.

Like many other transracial adoptees, I did not feel at home in my own skin. My exterior differences were accentuated by the overwhelmingly fair complexions of my classmates and neighbors. Like many other transracial adoptees, I struggled to find my voice — to be able to verbalize my sense of discomfort, to be able to rationally identify why I hurt inside, and it was a hard road for me, especially as a teen.

However despite my tantrums as a child, my experimentation with drugs, the fights, the rejection from my peers and so on, I phased into post-adolescence a little bruised, but with an incredibly strong sense of self. The key to it was the support of my parents.

In retrospect, I felt safe enough to rage against the system, my cultural constraints, and my own family because I was rock-solid in the security of knowing that no matter how badly I messed up, or hurt myself, or struggled, my parents loved me and were both unconditionally there for me. It was that sense of surety that empowered me to question who I was, how I could create a safe place for myself, and how I could forge my own identity as a son, a brother, an adoptee and Vietnamese-American on my own terms.

Both of my parents are amazing people, and I strive to be like them even now, for they are the truest examples of unselfish love, compassion and empathy that anyone could ever ask for. The most important point however, is that what my parents did for me was not because I was adopted, but because I was their son. The love and support they lauded upon me was exactly the same consistent and unselfish support that all of my siblings received, and we are stronger for it.

I do believe that it is important for adoptive parents of today to educate themselves about their child’s birth culture, to explore issues of cultural identity formation, white privilege, attachment disorders, methods of exposing their children to diversity, transracial adoption issues and so on. However, I also strongly believe that a lot of raising a healthy child, whether she be adopted or not, also has to do with first being a healthy parent in mind, body and spirit.

There is no substitute for good parenting, and we are always teaching our children, even when we think they aren’t learning. Being a transracially adopted child does present a unique range of challenges, but it is important to remember that being a transracial adoptee also presents a unique range of strengths that parents can either nurture or neglect based on their ability to be present for their children.

~Christopher C. Brownlee

_______________________________________________________