I LOVE MY ADOPTIVE FAMILY BUT NOT ADOPTION
Yes, you heard right. I love my adoptive family, but I dislike being adopted. In fact, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy (well maybe). I know that this might come as a surprise to some people but not to my fellow adoptee friends. They get this. But, for those of you who might be perplexed or a little curious, please read on. I can’t cover all the reasons why I feel the way I do in this piece, but I will try and provide a snapshot.
Growing Up
I was raised in an Italian/Australian family with one brother and my adoptive father and mother. My amazing, kind, intelligent, loyal and patient brother was the biological child of my adoptive parents. Let’s call him Steve (not his real name). He fitted in perfectly and he was the apple of my adoptive mother’s eye. If you met Steve, you would understand why — he always had a lovely disposition and compliant temperament. Then there was me, I was rambunctious, carefree and spirited. My brother and I balanced each other out — he was absolutely the best brother a traumatized adoptee could have. Likewise, my temperament was more aligned with my adoptive father who was Italian. My adoptive mother, as much as we loved each other (and we did) was diagnosed with a terminal illness not long after she adopted me, and all these factors culminated in us regularly engaging in a battle of wills.
As a young child, I loved my adoptive family, dearly. Despite this, I simply hated being adopted. It just wasn’t a good fit for me. I was not grateful for being adopted and I hated being different — I just wanted to be normal like every other child. Clearly, there’s nothing normal about being adopted and especially being told that your mother must have loved you very much to give you up! I was acutely aware of this and the kids at school knew this too — that’s why I was the subject of adoption jokes. Not all the time, but enough to really, really, leave a lifelong impression.
I also recall my adoptive mother sitting down with me on the floor with my scant information and her telling me that she would help me look for my ‘real’ mother when I was older. Some people might shudder that she used the term ‘real’ mother — I don’t. I am so thankful that she was so supportive about my rights and indeed she understood my need to know who I was and where I came from. However, the downside was that I had developed a fantasy mother in my mind. That is, I daydreamed regularly about her and I held her up on this unrealistic pedestal as a self-sacrificing heroine, which was not the case (i.e., forced adoption).
I remember very vividly feeling and thinking that I would seek to right the injustice of it all when I was older — the activist seed was planted.
Shared Experiences
In 2005 I saw a documentary called ‘Gone to a Good Home’ featuring Lily Arthur’s real life story of forced adoption. It’s a harrowing story. However, it was the first time that I heard other adoptee voices that aligned with my thoughts and feelings. It was a watershed moment and not one I will ever forget. For the first time in my life I didn’t feel alone in my struggles with my adoption identity. In fact, it was the first time I felt a sense of normality and validation. I felt I had finally found a community that could understand my experience. However, I really didn’t know how to connect with them at that stage, so life went on but the seed of activism had found some fertile ground in which to be nurtured
Then in 2010, I heard about the Senate Inquiry into the Commonwealths Contribution to Former Forced Adoption Policies and Practices and that is when my world changed. It was then I discovered a community of adoptees — my clan. Although we were all different we all shared commonalities around our experience of being adopted. A shared experience.
Cooney, Gilbert and Wilson (2014) research on shared experiences revealed that people who have extraordinary experiences can have unforeseen and negative consequences.
“Extraordinary experiencers had little in common with their ordinary peers, who had a lot in common with each other, which made the extraordinary experiencers both alien and enviable, which led the ordinary experiencers to treat them poorly, which left them feeling excluded and bad” (Cooney, Gilbert and Wilson, 2014). [1]
This research may provide some insight into why I experienced these challenges with some peers at school and why I was able to bond with my fellow adoptees. The kids at school did not share my extraordinary experience (of being adopted) whereas my fellow adoptees, who like me hated being adopted, did. Of course, there are other studies out there that also shed light on the complexities that I experienced. I know that Nancy Verrier’s book, the Primal Wound,[2] also helped me makes sense of some of my behavior and feelings as an adoptee.
However, my aim in writing this is not to laden you with research but rather to emphasize that my love for my adoptive family and the trauma I felt as a young child was as a function of being adopted. So, my feelings around adoption are not necessarily a reflection of my adoptive family. I hated feeling like my mother had abandoned me, I hated that deep sense of rejection, and I hated that I was so different. These are only a few reasons and it’s obviously more nuanced and complex — far more than I can explain in this piece. But it’s a start.
Anyway, it was not until I met, spoke to and connected with other dissenting adoptees that I truly felt that someone else really understood how I felt, on a deeply personal level. I recognized myself in them, because their words and feelings echoed mine. Only another adoptee, especially one who articulates their difficulties, knows how it feels to be adopted and although we may have differences there are still commonalities that bind us. The shared experiences of disenfranchised grief, loss, trauma, marginalization and inequality, as a function of being adopted. The seed of activism had developed roots.
I will write about my activism in another post but essentially, along with national and international adoptees, I am seeking equality, underpinned by human rights instruments and the principles of social justice. It is imperative that adoptee activist voices are amplified because for too long they have been silenced. To that end, I will leave you with these words by Australian Columnist (The Weekend Australian) and fellow adoptee Grace Collier:
“adopted people are the most affected by adoption. When we are children we have no voice; when we are adults are voices are ignored. And many adopted adults are too shattered to cope, let alone speak.”[3]
I love my adoptive family but hate adoption.
https://twitter.com/angelambarra
_________________________________________________________________
[1] Cooney, G., Gilbert, D. T., & Wilson, T. D. (2014). The unforeseen costs of extraordinary experience. Psychological Science, 25(12), 2259–2265. doi:10.1177/0956797614551372
[2] http://nancyverrier.com/the-primal-wound/
[3] Adopt another way for kids sake: https://www.theaustralian.com.au/news/inquirer/adopt-another-way-for-kids-sake/news-story/eab6f2d47adb9528fda8517f89d8ce39
