Family life has been definitively established to play a central role in a child’s development. Family is not defined by biology, however, and there are a lot of different types of families: biological families, adoptive families, found families. Of course, each family is unique, and even families of the same type can vary significantly.
Adoptive families, for example, can differ in whether the children were adopted locally or internationally or in whether the biological parents have chosen to remain unknown (in closed adoptions) or be discoverable (in open adoptions). Beyond these structural differences, every adoptee’s individual experience is different and yet, there are common threads–the search for their identity, in which being an adoptee necessarily has a part.
Valerie Grace Moya, a junior at Sequoia, was taken to a foster home very soon after she was born in Fremont, California. She lived there for a few years with several other children whom she considered her family. When she was three years old she was adopted by two loving parents. When she went to school, she found others like her.
“I went to a private little elementary school [where] I made great friends. I found other people who were adopted like me. That made me feel really included,” Moya said.
Middle school was a completely different story. Moya and her father are Hispanic and her mother is white, which caused a point of tension between Moya and her family.
“[Going to middle school] was a scary transition,” Moya said. “I was so insecure. I remember the first day I did not want my mom there. I was like, ‘Mom, you don’t look like me. Everyone looks like their parents.’ I felt so bad. Even to this day I feel bad [about treating my mom this way].”
During this time, Moya pushed her parents away.
“I treated my parents so horribly throughout my middle school years. From a deep rooted insecurity, I was like, I’m not like anyone else. There’s no one like me out there,” Moya said.
Through meeting other adopted students Moya became more comfortable with herself over time.
“I was once super insecure about my life circumstances that I can’t control. Now, it’s something about me that I love and I want other people to know that they’re not alone,” Moya said.
Moya isn’t the only one who found a community with others who were adopted.
Karyn Arle, a teacher at Sequoia, was adopted from South Korea into a white family when she was a baby. During her childhood, her adoption was an uncomfortable subject.
“When I was a kid, I was very uncomfortable talking about [being adopted]. It was different and most people obviously weren’t adopted. I grew up in Oregon, so […] it wasn’t as diverse there,” Arle said.
At the time, there wasn’t a lot of emphasis on preserving the culture of transracial adoptees. It wasn’t until her early twenties that Arle was able to go on a trip to South Korea with a group of other adoptees.
“It was very emotional. We went […] to Busan and Daegu. We also went to an orphanage and we met moms who were going to give up their kid so [the trip] was very emotional. […] For me, it made me feel much more comfortable with my identity. Just being back in Korea, there was something different about it,” Arle said.
The trip had a big impact on Arle’s identity.
“Now I’m much more comfortable after going to Korea, being a part of the adoptive community, both virtually and people I know, but it was definitely hard when I was growing up since it was very isolating,” Arle said.
Moya held a similar sentiment.
“[Being adopted is] not normalized therefore people who are adopted feel trapped in a bubble,” Moya said.
Like Arle, Nicole Vaughan, a teacher at Sequoia, was adopted from South Korea as a baby by white parents. Her parents made a concerted effort to immerse her in the culture by spending time with other Korean adoptees and having aspects of Korean culture in their home decor. Vaughan appreciated their efforts but felt that she was learning Korean culture as a foreign language, without all the nuance that a native speaker would have.
“There’s just such a difference between experiencing a culture and learning about a culture. I don’t think that I ever really fully got to experience the culture, […] I learned about different aspects of [it],” Vaughan said.
Vaughan still feels this loss of culture into her adulthood, running into situations where the disconnect is even more prominent.
“Whenever an older Korean person confronts me on the street who can tell that I’m Korean, I feel like such a disappointment when I have to tell them that I don’t know how to speak Korean,” Vaughan said.
The identity as an adoptee affects some adopted children more than others.
Emma Billing, a junior at Sequoia, was adopted as a baby from China. Her parents, a Chinese mom and white dad, traveled to China to meet with children at an orphanage there. Billing grew up in the Bay Area. Even though her family did not look very much like her, she does not remember this presenting challenges or discomfort to her growing up.
“I don’t really ever think about [being adopted],” Billing said. “I just live my life.”
While the specific experiences of children who were adopted are different, the common thread among them is the part of their identity as having been adopted.
“I feel like being adopted is [always] a part of you,” Billing said.