“I vaguely remember conversations about adoption with my parents, friends, and relatives.
The conversations were rare and would usually arise when a photograph of me and my parents was shown. The observer would nervously say, “She looks just like you! Same dark hair, brown eyes, and olive skin. You would never know she was adopted.”
Something about those statements didn’t set well with me, even as a child. All I knew was that I was embarrassed.
Back in the 1940s when I was adopted, misguided social workers counseled adoptive parents to “Play down the differences. Just say the child looks like you.” It is not uncommon to hear this kind of advice doled out today, although it is diminishing with the increase of transracial and international adoptions. There is no way a Caucasian couple can be told that their Chinese baby looks just like them!
Whatever the decade, the kind of comments I once heard are nothing short of denial dressed up in flattery. A denial of biological roots, birth, and pre-adoption history. A denial of the child herself.Joanne Small, in an article for Public Welfare, describes this denial: “The child’s basic sense of self develops around a faulty belief system. It is based on denial that there is any difference between being born to one’s parents and being adopted. When this situation occurs, all of the family members unwittingly become codependents to a denial process. This process is analogous to codependence that occurs in alcoholic families.…”
Statements such as “You are just like us” can translate to the adoptee as:
You must be like us.
Your birth and birth family are bad.
You must be dishonest about your emotions.
Just being yourself is not enough.”Excerpt From: Eldridge, Sherrie. “Twenty Things Adopted Kids Wish Their Adoptive Parents Knew.”
I’ve been told often that I’m different than my family. I am quite tall compared to them and then I paved my own way emotionally, socially, spiritually, intellectually, because they created the right environment for me to be myself. I was unique. I thrived in that. I purposefully chiseled my habits and tendencies due to a heightened sense of self awareness. I was born with an old soul.
So given that personal history, why would I insist that my adopted daughter would be or look just like me. She is beautifully different. And I find that fascinating.
I’ve been told with best intentions by many MANY people that Jaclyn and I look alike. I had already read this chapter and I cringed at this observation, though it sounds so harmless. It’s like a compliment. If we wanted to hide in plain sight, we could. I love the freedom that our likeness gives Jaclyn to choose when and with whom to share her story.
Apart from that, we are a beautifully grafted tree.
These days Jaclyn asked me:
-what color are your eyes?
-brown.
-what color are my eyes?
-blue?
-I want brown eyes like yours.
Or she wants teeth like daddy’s.
Or chocolate hair like mine.