“What’s Your Story?” The Adoptee’s Perspective

So much meaning resides in the words that we choose to say every day, as well as the unknown impact of the words that leave our mouths. If we could only see the bias, hidden or vivid microaggressions, and true silencing of some of the words or phrases we choose to use every day, we could make more room for truth in our lives. When I close my eyes for just one second, I can picture all of the words that have been used to silence me and my truth. When I close my eyes for just one second, I can feel the immense amount of pain from not being Latina enough, woman enough, or Jewish enough through my twenty-five years.  

Trying to decide on the words to call this newly developed student group on campus, my colleague and I sat there, and sat there, and sketched on paper…and more paper. Words mean so much, and the meaning needed to jump off the paper. After twenty-five years and some networking, I finally have been able to put those words together, to ask myself and others the question I have always wanted to hear but rarely heard…“What’s Your Story?”

Where do I begin?  I guess I will start by saying my story is complex. It is one you might not have heard before,  but I am ready for your perplexed face and scrunching of your nose in confusion. It is one of mixed cultures, heritages, races, religions, countries, and hair textures. It is one of the unknown, the grateful, the disorderly and the confused. It is one that involves grief, lawyers, caretakers, foster homes, and second chances. My story is about my life as a transracial adoptee, and let me tell you, I have a story to share.

Transracial adoptee is used to identify children of color who are adopted into a family whose racial background is different from their own. I was not aware of this term until 2012 while pursuing my master’s degree, during a presentation at a NASPA Region 1 conference. I sat in a room full of people whom I did not know as the presenters began to graciously share their own stories. Within those fifty or so minutes they made space for one another to share one of the largest parts that makes them who they are, and I was lucky enough to be sitting in that room. Having never heard of someone, nor met anyone, who shared a similar complex story to my own, I was overwhelmed with emotion of finally not feeling alone.  I realized I am not the only person who differs from her own family but also from the various groups of with whom I am premeditatedly associated.

The feeling of not being able to truly identify with others until I was twenty-three was truly puzzling, and the moment that feeling came was when I decided that my story was unique, important, and deserved to be heard. In order to ensure that I give other transracial adoptees the opportunity to hear my story I needed to lean into the discomfort of sharing it. I then started walking on the path of discovering my transracial adoptee journey. I began to identify the places where I needed to heal and conducted a more in-depth exploration of who I am. I began to wonder how I identified, how I navigated various spaces throughout my life so far, and most of all how I was going to show up as a student affairs professional.

With time, the comfort level increased and I began sharing the parts of me that I felt were not welcomed by society, and our “one box norm”. I began to understand more of my frustrations and held on to the realness of being the only person, and woman, of color within my white family. I was able to begin unraveling the idea that I am Latina enough, even though I do not fit the confines of “the definition” that has been placed upon me over the years. I was able to name the pain I felt to not know the culture, values, and traditions, of the typical Chilean family. I became less embarrassed with my inability to communicate in the official language of my ancestors and my lack of ability to remember those few words from Hebrew school. I started to name my identities, and put them into the forefront of how I navigate this very difficult world. I grappled with the strong amounts of privilege I was granted by being a young child who was given another chance. The list could continue of what my journey began to look like, but it only started because I had learned that I was not the only one. The concern about the lack of community for individuals like me and a newfound light and determination allowed me to begin working on forming a group on campus for transracial adoptees at the University of Connecticut.

Through the help and assistance of a wonderful colleague and the phenomenal leader of our Asian American Cultural Center we were able to pilot a support group in an effort to have students build a community with one another and provide them the space to share their stories and experiences as transracial adoptees.

“I’m adopted, and I have never had a space to talk about it or share my story,” is how the majority of the meetings begin. There was a sense of awe, surprise, excitement, and shock to be sitting around a table with fellow students and facilitators with a similar story. The talking points would progress from: Where were you born? How old were you when you were adopted? Do you talk about it with your family? Did you have an open or closed adoption? Was your name changed? Are your siblings adopted?  When is your Gotcha Day? (or in the Bogen case, When is cupcake day?), and the list continued.

The feelings of mutual understanding were there, and the mere essence and energy of that community was uplifting. There have been words and feelings said in that space that I have tried to communicate to my family, friends, and colleagues over the years that have left me feeling misunderstood and alone, and after sitting around that table, we were no longer alone. The opportunity to have students explore their transracial adoptee identity was something I was not provided with as I moved through my years of schooling. This group has created a space for a topic that has been viewed as taboo for decades and allowed us to name some of those aspects of adoption that are not discussed or explained on TV specials or pamphlets.

For some, adoption is rooted in many versions of shame, embarrassment, regret, and neglect. It is a process that should be filled with an insurmountable amount of love, but it is also very difficult for adoptive families and children to unmask all of the differences and conflicts that arise as one grows up. Navigating and developing a racial identity within a family that does not mirror your own is hard work, and depending on the level of understanding, the true erasure of one’s identity and culture are at risk.

Although we face the same difficulties as any student group, the concept of identity based support/community groups on campus is one that, when well thought out and valued, can significantly benefit students’ lives, as well as enhance understanding from campus partners. As I continue to explore my identity as a transracial adoptee and as we all continue to do this work, I ask for consideration and space for the students and staff who carry multiple narratives with them everyday. I ask that we prioritize asking, that we not assume, and that we encourage identity exploration and development within the transracial adoptee community. I ask you to reflect upon the words, “What’s Your Story?” 

Robin Bogen is a Residence Hall Director at the University of Connecticut.