Writing at xoJane, Chantal Rich says that she didn’t mind living in rural Tennessee, until strangers started to comment on her adopted children.
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“So, how much did she cost?”
The person asking me this, about my daughter, was an older woman and a complete stranger to me.
As I pulled my daughter closer to me, the same daughter that my husband and I had just adopted along with her brother, I thought about how to answer. We were in a hospital waiting to get blood drawn — it wasn’t the place for a lecture or fight. I thought that dealing with questions like that was not what I had been looking forward to or even anticipating when my husband and I decided to pursue a transracial adoption. And truthfully, I wondered what was taking my husband so long to park the car and come in with our son.
When my husband and I first decided to adopt, we signed on for a domestic adoption for a child of any race. Incidentally, at that adoption agency, “minority” was lumped in with “special needs” -– so wrong. We were waiting so long for a match that we had managed to save up enough money for international adoption …
Read Chantal Rich’s entire piece at xoJane.
The Root aims to foster and advance conversations about issues to the black Diaspora by presenting a variety of opinions from all perspectives, whether or not those opinions are shared by our editorial staff.
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