The Daily Adoptee is a blog for transracial adoptees can find their tribe, write about their experiences and develop their voice as writers. This an online space hosted by Brittany Nash an adoptee rights advocate, The Daily Adoptee accepts submission from transracial adoptee for publication.
We shouldn’t have to live in a country that wearing afro hair has to be “legalized.” Our black and brown children shouldn’t have their future’s impacted because of antiquated “rules” that people don’t want to change even though they are more harmful than good.
But we do.
This blog is going to start with at a simple statement and it is:
Your proximity to someone doesn't mean you know more.
This seems pretty obvious, but sometimes it just needs to be explained and addressed. While I am going to frame this specifically around adoption, it honestly, this applies to anything you don't have the first-hand experience in (ie: you are LIVING IT).
My name is Brittany Nash. It's a passing white name. It's not questioned on resumes or when someone picks up the phone to call me. Because I wasn't raised with AAVE my voice passes as white. But I've watched how people's approach changes when they discover I'm a black woman.
This is just one lesson on how assumptions and racism come into play for me as an adoptee.
When motherhood was added to the definition of my womanhood, I became braver for myself. I became softer for myself. I became bolder for myself. I began to love myself deeper. It's like a branch of a tree and it challenges me as it grows.
It's a reminder that regardless of being adopted personality and identity traits have strong biological ties. The way I act, the interests I gravitate towards and so much more were given to me because the two people who created me. And I passed them on to my children.
I have found a lot of hurt, anger and confusion inside myself since taking a close look at how I feel about my adoption and the physical, mental and emotional abuse I endured during that time. But I also found I had become a pro at suppressing all of that because I didn't practice honest reflection or healthy lifestyle balance. That being said I thought it may be helpful for others if I shared four tools I use to cope with my traumatic past.
Abuse, mental health and adoption. That's packing a lot in one punch. And makes for a pretty daunting introduction. I made it a point to not carry myself as someone who was abused. It's not something that I feel I need to announce. Just like I don't feel like I have to announce that I am adopted as I enter spaces. Both come up in due time.
I remember sitting on the dock on Long Lake. I still was trapped living with my first adoptive parents. I remember thing how horrible a situation I was in. How the world just kept spinning with me stuck in these moments trying to find some semblance of …something. I couldn't be happy. I spent to many nights praying and crying to be delivered into the next stage of the play of my life, I promised I would just be content to be free.
Writing about my adoption was born out of my need to find clarity in my experiences of being a woman of color who was adopted, but who experienced a traumatic adoption. The day after my 32nd birthday I realized I could no longer lie to myself. That not talking about my experiences was the easy way of not dealing with them. That I need to get to the root of why I was feeling stuck. Mentally and emotionally, professionally and personally.
BLACK GIRL. Love yourself today. No just the beauty you always are on the outside, but the knotted mess on the inside. The parts you try really hard not to hide. Are you finding joy in discovering yourself? Your thoughts your words your dreams? All the idiosyncrasies in between?
People may not like to hear this, but being adopted puts a whole new spin on the term LOVE. Because love is inexplicably intertwined with identity.
I was being watched. I could feel it. Sometimes it was so subtle that I felt I was just by chance in their line of sight. A casual 'hi' as I passed by. Looking me directly in the eye when I asked a question.
But other times, the pull of their grazes was so strong, I had to learn to not turn and seek them out. The glances would make my heart beat fast and made me want to run for cover.
Teach your adopted child to protect their space and their experiences.
Parents who are adopting children of color, please listen, this is so important. On so many levels.
To do this you will need to take them to the people who can teach them. You need to take them to spaces that hold people of their race and culture. There is no maybe about this.
One particular blizzard was bad. For multiple days I laid near the end of my bed that had a west facing window. I watched the snow blow and make hills while an occasional car or truck or snow plow would make their way by. I would press my fingers into the frost that had collected on the windows and play with the worn headphone cord of my little hand held radio to make sure it was just so so latest pop and country hits would play in each ear.
