As early as I can remember, I knew I was adopted. I was born in China and brought to the United States at the age of one. My parents told me that a red string connected us and that we were always destined to meet. They told me they loved me.
That story shaped how I understood family as I was growing up. The red string meant that I was meant to be there. We were meant to meet. We were family.
And while my relationship with them eventually fell apart, it had nothing to do with adoption.
My adoption was never a secret hidden from me. I wasn’t sat at the dining table and told, “We need to talk.” Some parents wait until their children are older to tell them, hoping to spare their feelings. But to me, there were no feelings to spare.
Being adopted shouldn’t be seen as inherently good or bad. It shouldn’t be met with disdain or surprise. And adopted children shouldn’t be treated as less than their biological counterparts. It is just a fact about someone’s life.
If the fear is that a child will feel lesser because they aren’t biologically related to their parents, then hiding their adoption is what will instill that fear in them. Why create a sense of shame? Why make it seem as though there is something wrong with not being a biological child? And why hide the truth when there’s nothing to hide?
Growing up, I often felt like it was the adults around me who didn’t understand adoption. I was 12 when my cousin told me he wanted to adopt children someday to give his “real” children the cultural experience. I was 17 when my manager asked me if my parents adopted me because they couldn’t conceive a child themselves.
Neither of these events were particularly scarring, but they made me realize how flawed many people’s understanding of adoption can be. One made adopted children seem like a supplement to give to biological children. The other assumed adoption was a last resort after facing infertility. They didn’t consider that adoption could simply be another way that a family comes together.
I don’t really believe there is a red string connecting people and making it their fate to meet. It’s a bit too far-fetched for me. But I do know that being adopted never made me any less of my parents’ child. I might no longer speak to my parents, but I’ve built a family of my own based on love and choice rather than biology. So maybe it’s time we stopped prioritizing biological ties and start recognizing the people who make us feel like family.
