My new second cousin is mixed-race, but visibly of African descent. She has caramel-colored skin, dark hair (which I’m sure will curl), and a little button nose that reminds me nothing of her white parents—precisely because she’s adopted.
At first, I wondered why my ultra-conservative cousins wanted to raise a child of color. But after considering that their extended family looks like a United Colors of Benetton ad, I figured my cousins’ new brown baby would fit right in, or at least have people to turn to when things got real.
While I’m happy Rose* has a loving home, anxiety quickly set in once I saw her brown body cradled in my cousins’ peachy arms.
Rose’s family means well, but they’re colorblind—that is, the “I don’t see color” type of people. They avoid or silence discussions on race, and are unaware of their unconscious racialbiases. I’ve seen this with Rose’s grandmother who, every time an unarmed black person is murdered by police, takes to social media to thank the “brave men and women in blue because we’re all American.”
It’s obvious my white cousins are unprepared for the inevitable challenges of raising a black child, and this scares me because of all the barriers people of color face when it comes to systemic racism and white privilege in America. As a person of color, I see Rose within a wider social context—and it’s terrifying that her family does not.
But Rose’s case is nothing new. The first major wave of transracial adoption among white American families targeted Korean children after the end of World War II in 1945. Then, starting in the 1950s, organizations focused on fostering and adopting out “hard-to-place” black children; these adoptions, alongside mixed-race children and those with disabilities, were perceived as “difficult, risky, and likely to fail” and therefore considered “special needs,” according to University of Oregon’s Adoption History Project.
The first recorded transracial adoption of an African-American child by a white family occurred in 1948; the Johnstons, a white family from Washington state, fostered and later adopted a black girl against the advice of their social worker. Transracial adoptions by white couples peaked in 1971after the 1967Loving v. Virginia ruling concluded that interracial marriage was no longer unconstitutional, and state laws began to ease race-based restrictions on adoption, but this didn’t prevent public outcry.
Many African-Americans began to challenge the placement of black children in white homes. In 1972, the National Association of Black Social Workers publicly condemned the practice as“dangerous” to the overall well-being of black children—and concerns still persist today.
Both advocates and opponents of transracial adoption continue to ask the same question: Can white parents help their adopted children of color effectively deal with racism?
Can white parents HELP THEIR ADOPTED CHILDREN OF COLOR EFFECTIVELY DEAL WITH RACISM?
One well-known study found that white parents of transracial adoptees are more likely tode-emphasize racewhen their children reach adolescence. But some research suggests that transracial adoptive parents who teach colorblindness actually promote poor identity formation in their kids, and don’t adequately prepare them for dealing with racial bias and discrimination.
What’s more, according to another study, transracial adoptees were at least two to three times “more likely to have serious psychiatric and social maladjustment problems than their siblings and the general population.”
Unfortunately, Rose’s comfortable lifestyle won’t necessarily protect her from these risks. Around 44 percent of transracial adoptees live in households with an income of at least $100,000, one study revealed—that’s higher than their same-race counterparts. However, economic privilege does not preclude people of color from experiencing racism. A 2010 study of black and mixed-race transracial adoptees from mostly middle- and upper-class white homes found that participants experienced racism in their neighborhoods, schools, and sometimes families. Most adoptees surveyed labeled their parents “colorblind.”
At best, colorblindness can prevent transracial adoptees from navigating society safely and comfortably. In a worst-case scenario, though, this lack of awareness could be a death sentence since Rose and other transracial adoptees live in a society that views people like them as disposable.
Adam Pertman, former executive director of the Donaldson Adoption Institute, believes white parents raising children of color have a unique task. “The responsibility is not just to make that person feel comfortable in their own skin—which is essential—but also to empower them to deal with the society around them. And that does mean letting them know you can’t wear that red bandana and you may be followed in the store,” he said in 2011.
Despite the unique challenges facing Rose and other transracial adoptees, research suggests that they’re able to develop healthy identities when adoptive parents connect them to racial role models, and provide them with positive messages about their heritage.
Gina Samuels, a University of Chicago professor who was raised by white parents and is multiracial, has said, “If you address race and you talk about it, it doesn’t have to be the big issue. But if you don’t talk about it, it becomes thebig issue.”
I admire my cousins for loving Rose without reservation, butI worry that she’ll miss out on important life lessons because they don’t consider racism to be a real problem. If and when it does become a reality for Rose, I hope she won’t be shaken by a society that dismisses her as a person of color.That she won’t grow to resent her family for blindly loving her, for failing to understand that love alone isn’t enough to make her feel safe, valued, or heard.
*Names changed to protect the identities of the author’s family; this piece was published under a pseudonym
