Stigma and Silence: I Am Adopted. We Don’t Need to Sugarcoat Our Narratives About Adoption
- It took a writing of a book, some fifty years later, to realize, “lucky” is not a word one should use for an adoptee.
A few days ago, I was on Google trying to do some research about adoptions in India. The first search heading that came up was “Adoption in India and Social Stigma.” I was surprised, angry and hurt. In this day and age? Still?
Why is this act of adoption so hard for us to accept and acknowledge? Why do we try and keep this fact hidden? It is time we get rid of the stigmas attached. Who do we try and shame? The parents who are on this journey to adopt or the child who is ready to be adopted? Is anyone at “fault” here? So then why this stigma? This stigma takes over lives. The parents keep the truth from the child and the child grows up in bliss till one day their world shatters with the truth. Why let the world do this? Why don’t we have conversations? Why don’t we speak our truths?
Do we need to sugarcoat our narratives? Do we need to create stories full of sugar and fluff around adoptions?
The other extreme is not saying anything at all and letting the world create its own narratives about you.
I am adopted. Growing up, no one ever told me these soft stories of how I was meant to be where I was. How I was destined to be their child via adoption. How the parents who gave birth to me, loved me and wanted to give me a better life which they could not, hence their need to give me up. In many adoption stories, one finds this narrative. I am not sure, who benefits from this narrative. Does it ever give a child solace? Does it ever make the child feel whole?
Many adoptees, once they find out they have been adopted, start out by asking questions, about who their biological parents are, what did they look like, where did they live, and why did they give me up?
Many adoptees, once they find out they have been adopted, start out by asking questions, about who their biological parents are, what did they look like, where did they live, and why did they give me up? Was it my fault they gave me up? Endless questions. So many are fortunate that they are told the truth. So many know their roots and their true narratives. As painful as it might be on so many different levels, it still fills up a hole in the countless holes in one’s heart.
But how does one handle a narrative or a life, where people don’t acknowledge the fact that you are adopted? You were “lucky” because you were home with your grandparents. You were lucky because your grandparents became your parents. You were lucky because you were not with strangers.
But no one ever spoke the truth. That you were adopted because your parents did not want you.
No one ever stopped to think, this is a child without her parents. This is a child who has been adopted. There is nothing lucky or normal about this.
Life moved on in silence. In silence about everything that surrounded me. I knew what my father and mother looked like. I knew where they were from. I knew where they lived. But that was it. No one talked about them. No one told me any beautiful lies.
My narrative was, a someone from somewhere who needed a home. I so wish that people had spoken about where I came from, and who I was. The adults in my life did not have the courage. The adults in my life lied about who I was or just did not say anything.
And as written words go, yes it was my fault that I was given up. But was it really my fault? Why does one have to live with a burden like that all your life?
I still wait on closure. I still wait on acknowledgment. It took a writing of a book, some fifty years later, for people to hear my voice, to feel my angst and to realize, “lucky” is not a word one should use for an adoptee.
I write this for all of us who will never have a heart that is whole. I write this for all of us who are always half-empty.
I write this for our world that needs to acknowledge every child, and not stow her or him away in silence.
Let’s all have honest conversations.
Shabnam Samuel is the author of the best-selling memoir, “A Fractured Life” and is an international motivational speaker. She is also the founder of the Panchgani Writers’ Retreat, based out of Panchgani in India. The retreat incorporates mindful living along with creativity and wellness following Ayurveda principles, with yoga, meditation and writing workshops. Shabnam is a student at the Kerala Ayurveda Academy in Kerala, India. When she is not writing, speaking or learning, you can find her cycling somewhere in the suburbs of Maryland where she has lived for over 30 years.”
While the early life trauma of separtion from one’s birth family , and the shock of being lied to by one’s adopted family cannot be underestimated, Miss Samuels’ bitterness comes through loud and clear. One hopes that writing this book, and her continued meditation work, will help her to find peace.
In the meantime, I would urge her not to paint all birthmothers with one brush. ( For the record I am not a birthmother, but have taken care of scores in the moment of birth and relinquishment.) A blanket “Your parents d id not want you ” does not begin to address the 100s of situations that lead to adoption. not the grief that lingers long and painfully.