I had not heard of this poem before but read about it today. A lot of adoptees are familiar with it and many hate it (so a word of advice to adoptive parents – just don’t). One notes that for an adopted child – culture, facial features, accents – all of it is so important. Blogger’s note – for the child of 2 adoptees, all of that mattered to me as well. As to the question – heredity or environment ? – I would quickly say that I am the product of both. My ancestors’ genes and the Mexican border region where I grew up.
One adoptee notes that – for some reason A LOT of adoptive parents seem to not really like their children… (Not all of them but MORE THEN I could have imagined). Blogger’s note – I would say that my adoptee mom often felt like she disappointed her adoptive mother. Now that I have the whole adoption file from the state of Tennessee, I can see letters in my adoptive grandmother’s easily recognizable handwriting about how over the moon happy she was initially with my baby mom. But children grow up – always.
One adoptee actually re-wrote the poem – (Blogger’s note, the sentiments match so much I’ve read over the last few years)
Legacy Of An Adopted Child
The Rewrite
Once there were two women,
who never knew each other
One you learned how not to remember,
the other you learned to call mother
Two different lives,
shaped to make you a pretend one
One became your deep black hole,
The other your imploding sun
The first one gave you life,
yet chose to give you away
The second taught you to live it,
in all but fake way
The first gave you a need for love,
that soon would be denied,
The second there to give it,
if only you learn to comply
One gave you a nationality,
that they chose you to not live,
The other changed your name,
your own mother chose to give
One gave you emotions,
that you would soon learn to squash,
The other fed your fears,
that they themselves had taught
One saw your first sweet smile,
still chose to hand you off,
The other dried your tears,
forgetting your deep loss
One made an adoption plan,
which sounds so politically correct,
The other prayed for a child,
and thinks God let her collect.
And now you ask me through your tears,
which of these you’re a product of,
One, my darling, one
Adopters can be so smug
~ Joy Belle, 2018
A transracial adoptee also wrote one and said “I’ve always hated that poem”.
The Fallacy of the Transracially Adopted Child
Once there were two women who never knew each other
One you don’t remember, one paid to be your mother
Two women’s lives forever changed to shape your little one,
Leaving you with trauma that could never be undone.
One gave you ethnicity, and one erased your name,
and then was called your rescuer for “saving” you from pain.
One gave you emotions that you struggle to suppress
with performative gratitude to mask your deep duress.
One coerced to give you up, told it was best for you,
But if she’d had that 30k, she could have raised you too.
One prayed for her own white babe, but met with sticker-shock,
And then she saw your bargain price on the modern auction block.
That same one finally took you home, her consolation prize
with curly hair, and plump full lips, brown skin and deep brown eyes
The other one left wondering if she made the right decision,
Or if her heart will ever heal from the pain of your excision.
And so you wonder through countless years
Of expectations and hidden fears
Was your arrival preordained by a hand from heaven above,
Or did your 2nd mom purchase you to fill her need for love?
~ Renata Hornik, 2021
Blogger’s note – The originaI version is author unknown. I do hope the poets don’t object since I do not have express permission to share these, though they are signed with a copyright date. These are true unfettered adoptee voices and I honor them today by sharing their feelings with my readers.
Missing Mom 