Tag Archives: Adoption Advocacy

Advice for TRA Parents

I follow numerous accounts on TikTok about adoption. This gem slid across my screen thanks to a duet posted by wardofthestate1.0.

Check it out.

This creator is ftpx1312

He got an immediate follow from me.

The Birth Certificate

Grammy recently came up to visit me for my birthday. During our mother-daughter bonding time, we somehow got to talking about adoption documentation. It occurred to me that I had never shown her Hope’s post-adoption birth certificate.

This document drives me batty.

It drives me batty because it is a lie.

Hope’s post-adoption birth certificate reads as though I gave birth to her and chose not to name her father.

I pulled out the document and showed it to Grammy. She was shocked! She had a ton of questions about why I had a legal document for something that she and I both know never happened.

Yeah, me too, Grammy. Me too.

Grammy just kept exclaiming that the document is a lie. I have never given birth to a child. Frankly to suggest that I did is a painful reminder of how my body has failed me. I have muscled my way to all kinds of life achievements, but that act of carrying a child in my body to term and producing a living, breathing baby…well that will go down as one of my personal failures.

(I don’t ruminate on that as much as I used to, but know that the sting of infertility will always be there.)

But I have a document that says my body did just that. In fact, this legal document that will for the rest of my and my daughter’s days and beyond says that my body did do it and that I did not name a father for the child that I did not birth in the first place. It is a seriously perplexing one-page document characterizing my daughter’s entry into the world.

Seriously there are layers to this thing. Hope had biological parents, both parents were named. That document shows information about both of those parents. There was a legal document that marked her entry into the world. In the document I received after our finalization, it’s like those people never existed. They are erased. Just vanished into the void. As one of my daughter’s biological parents is deceased, this erasure feels especially harsh. It’s like the Bureau of Vital Statistics simply decided to erase him from her story.

It’s crazy enough when this all happens with infant adoption, but when you adopt an older child, they remember their people. It’s not just a psychic or metaphysical thing, Hope lived with her parents. She remembers them; their names, what they looked like, how much she loved them, dinners they made, gifts they gave her, adventures they had, bikes they rode, books they read, places they went…she remembers the life she had with them.

We have a document that suggests that never happened.









I listened patiently as Grammy worked through all of this in her head and outloud. We talked about whether the state thought that this approach to post-adoptive birth certificates was a holdover to the days when you weren’t supposed to talk about adoption or admit adoption. We talked about how it double downed on the shame that those of us who have experienced infertility feel by simply pretending we gave birth. We talked about how far things have come that single motherhood was generally less stigmatizing that admitting your family was created by adoption and how effed up that was. We also talked about how my characterization in the birth certificate made me seem like I *might* be a candidate for the Maury Povich show because I didn’t name my child’s father.


via giphy

Years from now, without an addendum, will some future genealogist wonder if I knew my child’s father or if he was married or if paternity was in question or some other thing that just wasn’t true.

Grammy concluded her vocal processing by folding up the document, handing it back to me and declaring that it’s just wrong.

No kidding.

This is one of those things they don’t tell you about in the adoption process—whether or how the post-adoption birth certificate will characterize how you created your family. They don’t tell you that the document that comes in the mail after finalization may simply be a lie, a legal one, but a lie nonetheless. They don’t tell you that because of privacy laws, this may be the only document that shows up 50 years from now on Ancestry when someone is trying to figure out who Aunt ABM and Cousin Hope are and how do they fit into the family. They don’t tell you that those privacy laws, for some adoptees, mean they will never have access to the original document that accurately documents their birth.

Of course, I have my and Hope’s adoption decree, but as she approaches adulthood, there is hardly any need to refer to that document. But you need access to your birth certificate throughout your lifetime. It’s one of a few documents that proves American citizenship—it states where you were born. It’s just not the same.

As readers know, the fact that Hope will be 18 in about 4 months hade been weighing on me emotionally.. After her birthday, provided her surviving birth parent hasn’t blocked release of the original birth certificate, Hope will legally be able to get that document for the price of some paperwork and $20. At least she doesn’t have to pay more for the OBC than the adoptive birth certificate.

I intend to help her order a copy. Her social worker was kind enough to have a non-official copy included in Hope’s disclosure records. I didn’t appreciate back then what a gift that was, to see what the original looked like, what it said. I do now. So even though we have a copy, I will help Hope order an official copy. What she does with it is her business; I just think it’s important for her to have an accurate document that documents her entry into the world.

As for me, when we make the request, I’ll also be writing letters on simply having an OBC that has a adoption notation to increase the accuracy of this important legal document. I’ll include that my daughter having access to a document that describes her birth should not be withheld from her. She shouldn’t have to Hope anyone else thought to block access to a document about her. Yes, the document is about other people as well, but there should be some transparency there for everyone. It’s only right.

So, yeah, I have a document that reminds me of my body’s failures and advances a lie about my daughter’s birth. I’m so grateful for the opportunity to parent Hope, but some of the stuff that goes on within Adoptionland is just weird.


When Racism, Douchery and Adoption Collide

So this weekend known d-bag Iowa Congressman Steve King said this:

This dude. Usually he’s vomiting some sort of racist foolishness, but then he said this:

“It’s the culture, not the blood. If you could go anywhere in the world and adopt these little babies and put them into households that were already assimilated into America, those babies will grow up as American as any other baby.”

Sigh. Ok, let’s break this all the way down: Rep. King actually advocated international adoption for the purposes of advancing American culture against “somebody else’s babies.” Based on his frequent commentary those “somebody” folks are people of color primarily from Africa and the Middle East who are not Christian.

I got to say, that while I find 99.9999999998% of what comes out of this man’s mouth and typing fingers abhorrent; I appreciate his honesty. Lots of racists hide. They used to hide behind hoods. Today they hide behind systemically crushing policies and keyboards. With Rep. King, we can watch him plant his flag over and over again. We can see that thing and name that thing. And as someone who fights oppression for a living, I prefer tangling with devils I can see.

There is so much to unpack from his commentary, but let me focus on these facts:

  • Rep. King clearly doesn’t understand that adoption is supposed to be child-focused not civilization building.
  • He believes that we should burden our adopted children with *saving* American culture rather than focusing on ensuring they have access to safe, loving homes.
  • King doesn’t have any care for the first parents of the children he thinks should save American civilization.
  • King also doesn’t get that many of those “somebody” families are refugees in Western Europe who would rather not have to flee their countries of origin with nothing but the clothes on their back or to be treated like crap in the places where they seek asylum. They’d also like to raise their own children.
  • There is no appreciation that international adoption is rife with ethical challenges, not the least of which is that the actual number of orphans that need families internationally is far lower than what is often reported.
  • There is an unspoken, yet clearly inferred, charge that brown and black children need to be adopted by white folks so that they can be properly raised assimilated into “western civilization.”
  • Rep. King doesn’t see the value of black and brown lives here or globally; our melanin is blamed for the threatened failure of civilizations.

Oh, I could spend some time breaking Rep. King’s foolery all the way down, but I’m loathe to give this racist more airtime. It’s tough enough to dig through this guy’s public statements about race, poverty, and civics and not walk away wanting to douse yourself in Purell. Now he’s added this idea that Americans should be internationally adopting black and brown children from cultures different than ours in order to indoctrinate them. Sigh.

Just imagine for a minute how he views those of us who are not white and born here in the states.

When the Team Works

Today I met with the team at Hope’s school for a local screening to begin the process of determining whether she qualified for a 504 or if I needed to pursue an IEP.

I’ve heard so many horror stories about this initial meeting and this process that I went in ready but anxious.

I am in constant contact with Hope’s teachers (to her utter dismay). I visit her guidance counselor ever so often. I’ve invested a schnitt-load of money on tutors and resources and help her. I drag her to the doctor and share copious notes on my observations and reasons for requesting a medication adjustment.

During all of this, Hope is usually initially pissed, but she knows I’m trying to help.

I felt like I was going into the meeting doing everything I could’ve possibly done prior to asking for external support.

I had been warned about how kind folks would be while they tried to deny services and accommodations.

I really, really didn’t know what to expect.

So, we met, I gave my narrative. There was a lot of documentation about my efforts and involvement thus far. Her teachers came and spoke so highly of her, and echoed my observations and my conclusions about what she needs.

I looked at everyone on the team. The guidance counselor was nodding; the psychologist was typing, nodding and occasionally grimacing. The SPED director was reading stuff that had to legally be read. The social worker looked at me in what looked like an impassive way.

I did my homework, but I just didn’t know how things would turn out.

At the end of our hour together, we had a 504, the paperwork was signed and meetings with individual teachers start at 7:45am tomorrow. When all of my private testing is complete, we’ll revisit the need for more support.

For now, Hope will have her most immediate needs met, and I nearly wept with relief.

As the meeting concluded, the stoic social worker asked to walk me out to the school lobby. He was so kind, so warm, so encouraging, reassuring…he turned out to be a cheerleader. He cheered for us.

Now, I’m not so naïve as to believe it’s really all that easy; I believe we benefitted from a lot of favor from the Holy Homeboy today. And I have no idea what the world will look like after we get the results of Hope’s comprehensive testing back. The team may turn into a frenzy of sharks if we need more support.

What I do know today is that there are good people working at my daughter’s school. I believe they genuinely want my daughter to be successful; I recognize that some of that comes from knowing a bit about her history, but I know it’s genuine. I feel like Hope and I have allies today.

And for today, that’s good enough.

When the team works, the dream works.

Thoughts on Being an Ally to Adoptees

Occasionally I write about my work in diversity; it certainly informs some of the writing I do here about the cross points of diversity, race most specifically, and adoption. For the last few days I’ve been pondering the #flipthescript hashtag on Twitter and why it hasn’t shown up on my “tailored” trend feed as a “trending” hashtag. Certainly the content is there; the tweets from adoptees are deeply meaningful, sometimes provocative, and shouting the desire to be heard as loudly as the voices of adoptive parents.

And yet, it’s almost as though there is a dull pinging in the Twitterverse.

Now, I’m not really into tweeting. I’ve been working on getting into it; it just moves too fast for me, frankly. Gosh, Twitter makes me feel old.

There I said it.


Anyhoo, maybe I’m missing the big trend? I’m just not seeing it; though I do still see folks tweeting about Apollo Nida and Phaedra Parks from the Real Housewives of Atlanta. (Disclosure: I tweeted about them last night too.)  There have been some great blog posts about the sensitivities around NAAM, so I don’t want to downplay those, but even those–like this post–have been largely written by adoptive parents.

So, in the midst of sifting through Twitter this afternoon I came across one of Angela Tucker’s tweets that made me really ponder.

Something about Angela’s tweet drew me back into my day job in diversity and who creates the narrative, keeps it going and has the power to change it.

National Adoption Awareness Month is really about adoptive parents, not adoptees.

Ouch right? No, really it’s true. And before you hit the x-box in the corner of your browser, stay with me for a minute.

In any social moment, there is a dominant group who gets to create the event, set the tone, invite attendees, host the party and send everyone home with the parting gifts of their—the hosts–liking. The assumption is that these folks care more than anyone else, and that they know best how to throw this party and what it should be about. They just know more.

This isn’t true of course, but when you are the dominant social group, the group with the power, it’s true because you say it’s true and because you act like it’s true. And as long as other voices are mute or silent or muted and silenced then who’s gonna check you boo?


This is what the use of power and privilege looks like.

Ugh, yeah, yeah it does. I know we adoptive parents probably don’t want to hear that, and it’s hard to write it, but it is what it is. I recognize that my fellow adoptive parents want and strive to be good people and good parents. We love our kids and our grown kids so very much. But the nature of the relationship—parent/child—creates a power dynamic that is hard to shake even when the adoptee is waaaaay grown. The use of power and privilege, even blindly and unintentionally, can be and often is oppressive.

Oppression has many antidotes, but its healing treatment is most effective when dominant group allies pick up the issue and carry it alongside (don’t take over!) those who have been oppressed. Oh, the irony that the marginalized group must, in part, rely on the dominant group to carry the weight should not be lost on any of us; it’s aggravatingly pissy.

But let’s not kid ourselves, I’d still be drinking at the colored water fountain in my segregated school but for some White folks who stepped up and joined ranks in saying, NO, Jim Crow is not any kind of right. My LGBT friends and colleagues would continue to live in environments that crush their spirit back into a closet but for straight allies also saying NO, this mess ain’t right. As the narrative dominant group, we have got to use our power and voice to promote inclusion.  Giving voice to adoptees shouldn’t be threatening to feeling happy about having the families that have been created through this process. Inclusion of their voice sensitizes us and everyone not on this journey that it’s not a walk in the park for any of us.

Adoption is complicated. I still celebrate my kid this month, probably almost invisibly in my “real” life. I am delighted that I am a mom and that our adoption has afforded me the opportunity to step into this role. But I recognize that this path is different, that my Hope’s needs are at times very different, that her voice in this journey is different, that she has emotions and feelings about being my daughter that I will never quite understand, that some of these emotions—even though they have little to do with me—will hurt both of us on various levels, and that advocating for her means listening to her voice, even and especially when she is saying something I’m not sure I want to hear.

As her mom and her biggest ally, it isn’t enough that I go through this with her, that I have my own story and write about in this space, that I bear witness to her as she navigates and creates her story or that I honor her story alone. I have a responsibility in this thing to amplify her voice and the voice of adoptees like her. It’s sad that many of the stories I see crossing social media don’t really mention the world view of the adoptee because adoptive parents are throwing the Adoption Awareness party.  I don’t think it’s malicious, but I think it speaks to the blind pervasiveness of power and privilege in our culture.

So, my fellow adoptive parents, take a moment out to amplify the voices of the adoptee. Make sure they are heard in your circles. They have a voice, just it and turn it up. As the dominant voice in adoption (all the time, not just during NAAM), we should be active and activist allies for adoptees and ensure that they are as visible as they choose to be, as loud as they want to be, and always, always heard. That is our challenge as the folks with the power and the privilege positions in adoption.

Being a good ally doesn’t mean that you can’t still celebrate the creation or expansion of our families this month, but be sensitive that it isn’t a celebration for everyone. Look, listen and retweet their voices. #turndownforwhat #flipthescript

K E Garland

Inspirational kwotes, stories and images

Riddle from the Middle

real life with a side of snark

Dmy Inspires

Changing The World, With My Story...

Learning to Mama

Never perfect, always learning.

The Boeskool

Jesus, Politics, and Bathroom Humor...

Erica Roman Blog

I write so that my healing may bring healing to others.

My Mind on Paper

The Inspired Writing of Kevin D. Hofmann

My Wonderfully Unexpected Journey

When Life Grabbed Me By The Ears


things are glam in mommyhood


an adoption support community

Fighting for Answers

Tales From an Adoption Journey


Because of course race and culture matter.

SJW - Stuck in the Middle

The Life of Biracial Transracial Adoptee

%d bloggers like this: