Adoption. Part 2: It Hurts Me

It did not rub off. The “dirty” skin I was teased for just a few steps away from my favorite spot on the monkey bars, this dark skin felt permanent. Frustrated and glaring at skin and soul both, my childhood heart detached from part of my identity. I did not return to recover it again until my mid-thirties. Nearly three decades after the dismissal of pride and the onset of shame, I started to be free again to live vibrantly as me. Only recently have I been okay with not being white.

My skin does not make me less than or make me smaller than others as I was taught that grade school day. Now I know it clarifies my uniqueness in some communities. My skin crosses bridges to people, to humanity, to trauma, and to belonging. This dark skin coupled with a tender spirit dilutes grudges and fears and helps those who have been systemically and institutionally oppressed or oppressive. I get to speak truth as a dark skinned person in ways that oppressed feel heard and oppressors see aggressions.But before I arrived at claiming ownership of my skin and its beauty, I endured the detachment and the ugliness of self-loathing. In order to free myself from shame, I had to learn my life experiences and heart could help others find their path to freedom.

The color of my skin has always been linked with my adoption into a white family and white community. Inferiority and identity angst as the rescued brown girl lapped over the edges of my thoughts for decades. I want to share more about adoption. Yet, I always stop myself. I assume others do not think like me or my words would come off as ungrateful…

 

Today, invited to write more than usual of how adoption hurt me, I share some of the cost of being a transracial adoptee.. Read the full post by clicking here to read my contribution to the The Mudroom Blogseries on Race and Culture.

http://mudroomblog.com/the-cost-of-being-a-trans-racial-adoptee/

Please also check out Part 1 of this series and stay tuned for the third and final part. I am willing to speak of hurt, but to those who loved me, those who are waiting to adopt, and those in the years of navigating a multi-race family, please take heart. Adoption has beauty; let love lead.