Just the other day, I took my daughter in to the pediatrician because she had a strange rash on her stomach. Our regular pediatrician was gone and a locum doctor was there in her place. I had to explain about Cora’s albinism, which lead to a brief discussion about Haiti and how she’d been adopted. The doctor asked if we had other children, and I told her that we did and that Cora was one of three we’d just adopted from Haiti. She then asked if we were foster parents, and I told her that we had four birth children, two from China, and now the three from Haiti. She dropped Cora’s chart in her lap and exclaimed, “Oh my goodness! Does everyone around here know who you are? Are you well-known in the community?” I stammered that yes, most people know who we are (we live in a town of 10,000 and we’re admittedly pretty noticeable), and she jumped in with, “There should be a Tana W. day or something!” and went on about how lucky Cora is. I gave her my standard “we’re the ones who are blessed” spiel, but as with all such encounters, I left feeling “icky.”

There are all sorts of prejudices and stereotypes tied up in comments like this, and there are many arguments people can make about whether being adopted from another country makes one “blessed” or “lucky” by comparing what they’re getting to what they’re giving up. I can’t tackle them all in this post, but what I do want to tackle is how we should handle these comments when they come up. And handle them, I believe we should.

Up until there are actually children in the adoptive family, it’s only the couple who have the potential to have their feelings hurt, and it’s up to them to decide how and if to address the comments and questions as they come up. But when there are children involved, who, in many cases are overhearing the questions and comments, it becomes much more complicated. Questions like, “Why did her real parents give her up?” can cause confusion and fear in a little mind. Even the tone of voice in seemingly innocuous phrases like, “kids like these” is something even young children pick up on.

A couple of years ago, I was reading the book After the Morning Calm. The book contains a series of essays written by adult Korean adoptees, and one piece made a particularly strong impression on me. In this essay, the author was recalling being on a skiing trip with her family and having a stranger make a disparaging remark to her father about her and her brother (if I remember correctly). She was horrified at the comment itself, but what made her feel even worse was that her father did nothing. She felt completely let down that he hadn’t defended his children and essentially left them to fend for themselves with that comment hanging in the air…

Comments from others may not be overtly unkind, but they have the potential to chip away at our children’s feelings of self-worth and connectedness, just the same. Since the day I read the story of this Korean adoptee, I vowed that I would do better with these confrontations when they come up. I’m not perfect and still get caught off-guard more often than I’d like, but I’m doing better and try to take it very seriously.

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