My family often finds itself at the center of curious inquiries, side glances, and presumptuous comments. Since my partner and I embarked on our parenting journey over five years ago, we’ve encountered a wide range of questions.
- “Are they all yours?”
- “I can’t fathom giving my child away.”
- “Are you their caregiver?”
- “Isn’t adoption prohibitively costly?”
- “Where did they come from?”
- “Why didn’t you choose to adopt children of the same ethnicity?”
- “Don’t many adopted children face challenges?”
- “Does open adoption confuse your kids?”
- “Oh, how wonderful of you to adopt children in need.”
- “Are they in foster care?”
- “Aren’t you concerned that their biological parents might reclaim them?”
We’ve become adept at addressing the myriad statements and questions that come our way. Rarely does a day pass without someone approaching us to discuss adoption.
Some perceive us as informal educators on the topic of adoption. After all, we have made a conscious choice to parent this way, and our status as an adoptive family is evident. My partner and I are white, while all three of our children are Black. Over the years, we have grown more open, patient, and resilient. We know how to respond with empathy, candor, and respect for our children’s privacy.
However, one particular question consistently irks me, tightening my chest and flushing my face: “Are they real siblings?”
Picture yourself in a supermarket with your family when a stranger in front of you turns around, observing your lively children—bouncing, touching, and giggling. After a quick assessment, they ask, “Are they real siblings?”
This is not what one expects to hear, especially when your cart is overflowing with groceries, diapers, and other essentials. You are just an ordinary parent striving to keep your children safe and happy, running errands like anyone else.
Moreover, your children are present and deserve respect. They are not a curiosity for you to interrogate about their familial bonds.
Consider the people you cherish deeply—your best friend, spouse, parents, or even a beloved teacher. Many of these individuals may not share your DNA, yet your affection for them is genuine and profound.
I’ve encountered countless variations of the “real” question. I understand that the term “real” is often a stand-in for “biological,” and while I grasp the intent, it can be perplexing, invasive, and painful for my children.
My kids behave like any siblings, pulling each other’s hair, sharing hugs, stealing toys, and playing together. They argue, reconcile, and engage in joyful activities. They are real individuals, with their own thoughts and feelings. It’s essential to recognize that they can hear your inquiries about our family’s legitimacy.
Our love is authentic. Our family is genuine. It’s all real.
When you see a family that may not conform to traditional definitions—perhaps formed through adoption—feel free to smile, but please refrain from using the term “real.” As my mother always said, just because you think it, doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud.
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In summary, our family may not fit traditional molds, but our love and connection are just as real. The next time you encounter a family that appears to be formed through adoption, remember to approach with kindness and respect, allowing each family to define their own narrative.