While shopping for apples at the local grocery store, a woman stopped me and asked, “So, are you their foster mom?” gesturing to the two children beside me. Feeling annoyed, I replied, “No, I’m their mom.” It was clear she expected more, blocking my cart as she continued to question me. My frustration stemmed not from the idea of fostering—an incredibly important role—but from her assumption about why a white woman was with two Black children.
As a part of a large, multiracial family, I’ve grown accustomed to questions. However, that doesn’t lessen my irritation when strangers feel entitled to probe into our lives during a simple outing to the park or library. I’ve even faced inquiries while going through airport security, where a TSA agent asked, “So, what’s up with your family?” all while patting me down.
People often ask all sorts of intrusive questions: “Why didn’t their real parents want them?” “How much did they cost?” or “Are they real siblings?” Sometimes, these questions come from a place of genuine curiosity, but often they feel invasive, especially when they imply that my children must justify their existence.
I want to be clear: not every comment is hurtful. We have had many individuals offer us kind words, such as “You have a beautiful family,” or share their own adoption experiences. But there’s a distinct line between establishing common ground and treating my family as if we’re under scrutiny because of our mixed backgrounds.
My daughters, in particular, dislike being questioned about their hair by white women. We’ve encountered instances where adults have reached out to touch their cornrows, which leads to my children firmly asserting, “Do not touch my hair.” I’ve also had to step in and tell these adults directly, “Don’t touch my children.” Curiosity doesn’t excuse the behavior. The conversation often continues with questions like: “Who does your hair?” “Can your mom braid?” and “How long does that style take?” Such inquiries not only put my kids on the spot but feel wholly inappropriate.
What many people don’t understand is that while my children’s adoptions are obvious, their individual stories are deeply personal. We do not share these narratives with strangers out of shame or embarrassment; we keep them private because they belong to my children, and they are sacred.
Some encounters have been downright bizarre. For instance, during a routine gynecological visit with my toddlers, a nurse whispered if I was planning to tell my kids they were adopted. I replied, “You know they can hear you, right?” Another memorable moment occurred when a woman in line at the grocery store asked if my daughters were “real sisters.” I quickly responded with a curt “Yes,” but her insistence on clarity infuriated me. Afterward, I took my girls by the hand and left the store, reassuring them that they can always choose not to respond to such inquiries.
Once, while dining out with friends, a waitress asked if I was babysitting my daughter before even taking our drink order. I simply replied, “Nope! She’s mine!” Yet the waitress continued to gush about how “cool” it was that I had adopted her. I rolled my eyes and redirected the conversation.
I understand that my family’s dynamics can spark curiosity, especially with now six of us. Our differences in skin tone are often the first thing people notice, and while it’s natural to be curious about adoption or race, it’s unacceptable when that curiosity crosses into invasive territory.
When discussing adoption, I’m open to sharing general information about the process or types of adoption, but I draw the line at divulging intimate details about my children’s backgrounds. To illustrate this, consider how uncomfortable it would feel if someone demanded to know your weight, financial situation, or personal history. It’s invasive and inappropriate.
Each child’s adoption narrative is intricately linked to their identity, and they will navigate these feelings throughout their lives. They don’t need a stranger imposing their own feelings or curiosity onto them. There are countless other topics we can discuss, but my kids’ adoption stories are not one of them.
For more insights into adoption and related topics, check out this link to one of our other blog posts. Additionally, for authoritative information on home insemination, visit Make A Mom. If you’re looking for resources on pregnancy week by week, I recommend checking out March of Dimes.
In summary, while my children’s adoptions are visible, their stories are theirs alone to share, and I believe in respecting their privacy.
Keyphrase: kids’ adoption stories
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