A Guest Blog by Black Sheep for The Black and Adopted Series.
My name is Black Sheep. I call myself as such as I am not only the Black Sheep of the family but I am in fact also Black. I was born and adopted in the late 1960s. Adopted by my white parents who already had two biological sons.
Born to a young single black woman I was relinquished and it was decided I was to be adopted whilst in the womb.
Back then there were many pleas in papers for adopters to come forward and give black babies loving homes. I was lucky enough that my parents came forward and did just that. My Dad was my hero and biggest fan and growing up in a white family never seemed that odd until I was touched by racism. I was the only black face in my primary school in a small corner of the South West. One of only two in Secondary…the other was of course my best friend ..safety in numbers?
As I was raised alongside two white brothers, the majority of people in my world were also white ..I really didn’t think of myself as black let alone adopted. Being black only really figured when it proved to be an issue to others. For example my Mother refused to tick the box of my ethnicity on the census forms..Oddly she deemed it to be no one elses business!? Until recently this amused me but knowing I was a default white person for most of my life bothers me a lot now…maybe I need to address this with my Therapist…note to self! Lol
So in essence I didn’t ‘feel’ black unless I was being attacked verbally of even physically because I was black. I was telling my Mother only recently how I returned from school probably half an hour late every day because bullies would stop me getting off the school bus until it was half a mile past my stop. As her usual response to any complaints of bullying was Well you probably took it the wrong way!?…or You are too sensitive! Or It’s the same as if you have red hair (as she did a million years ago) So you can see it was pretty pointless making a fuss. I just sucked it up
Being Adopted was also never something I really thought about, at least not on a regular basis. As my birthday is Christmas Day I did struggle with it on that day. Whilst my family made a suitable fuss of me for the first half of the day, I really wanted to sneak off into a quite corner and weep. Weep for the mother who would be doing the very same thing. Weep for the fact I had unanswered questions. Above all, weep over why I was given away…what had I done wrong…?
The strain of smiling and celebrating with everyone knowing deep sorry was not far below the surface. This feeling of discontent on my Birthday got worse as I grew older , still unsure as to why I felt this way. I was an genetic island. Just one of me …I craved being able to see myself in someone elses face
That was until I hit my teens, when the tiresome racism coupled with an unsuitable boyfriend and bludgeoning hormones sent me into something of a tailspin.
At this stage in my life I searched for answers. Thankfully I was unsuccessful back then.
Being Black has obvious issues for any girl going through puberty in the UK. I sense of identity is hard enough to establish when surrounded by your own culture. Surrounded and raised as white in a black skin only really shows its damage in adulthood. I love my family dearly and only have one wish. That they weren’t scared stiff of my being black amongst my black heritage. They love me too , although almost denied my heritage so I never thought to seek it out.
Black and British should never be seen as alien as it is in this country. It’s as if we are either black or British but not allowed to be both. Its only in recent years since being in reunion with my paternal bio siblings, birth mother and maternal bio siblings, that I can truly embrace where my skin has come from. Seeing my own eyes and features in so many faces has made me finally feel I really belong.
Being Black AND adopted has always felt something like a double-edged sword. Living in my skin every day, I rarely don’t pick up on some kind of sideways glance or open distain. Sometimes clumsily disguised as something else but generally it’s about my colour.
Adoption is a two way street…. I’ve written before how the Adoptee brings much to the party. It’s not about the just the ‘Saviour Adopter….’ Think of the number of times your hear someone not affected by adoption , call an adoptee ‘Lucky’ or how we should be ‘Grateful’. Neither really apply if you strip away the layers. Beneath you will find loss, abandonment, insecurity, pain, and self-doubt. We learn how to minimize ourselves, shrink down so as not to appear ungrateful. When in reality, we should be given a clear platform to express ourselves, search our truth guilt free, and teach the adoption system how to recognise the long-term effects of adoption.
Adopted children are always going to be adopted adult Our voice should just get louder as we grow bigger surely?
Having said that, I had a fabulous childhood, I love my life and my family, both by adoption and by biology. I mean they are all so like me…so what’s not to love right!? Ha
The nature - nurture theory is so true. I am seen as like both my Mothers, yet one is highly intellectual, has a slight fragility and inability to express her emotions clearly…and white….The exact opposite of me…yet we are alike in many other learned behaviours….My Birth Mother gave me her sense of humour, her openness and ability to share her emotions clearly….and she’s black
I am like them both. I love them both
The effect of being black and adopted on my life is that I have a very open demeaner as well as a very thick skin. I feel things deeply and am very in tune with my emotions and how to express them. Every opportunity to express how it really is, I relish. as the voice of any adoptee is often silenced by the system or the adopter voice…I believe there is a real change in the air. The Adoptee voice is literally the only truly valid voice when it comes to adoption reform.
Black adoptees were more often than not adopted into white families if we are looking at statistics prior to the eighties. Now transracial adoption of black babies would be much rarer, particularly in the UK, than Asian or middle eastern babies adopted from overseas.
I truly believe my Adoptive family do not see my colour. Its inconvenient as to have to address what they don’t know or understand is hard. My Mother denies the fact my child is half Jamaican . It embarrasses her. It makes me sad that she fears my culture and is wary of my reuniting with it. I’m delighted my daughter feels so proud of her skin, her culture and of her newly discovered biological family members. It completes the circle of life.
Realistically anyone adopting should respect they are raising a child from another world, be it culturally or by class. Particularly transracial adopters…implore them to educated themselves to be prepared to embrace that culture for the sake of their child.
As an adopter it is a privilege to adopt my son whose biology is slightly different albeit his colour the same. One day we will together explore where his biology started and go on another journey of discovery as I have
Today the system is very much more inclined to focus on matching culturally and by race than in the past. I wouldn’t change my life for a second, although I do agree that this is the right thing to do.
The full story of my journey and reunion is available in my Book Black Sheep Sweet Dreams
Blog www.blacksheepsweetdreams.me
Instagram https://www.instagram.com/blacksheepsweetdreams/
Twitter @BlacksheepNews https://twitter.com/BlackSheepNews?s=09
Facebook: Black Sheep Muses https://www.facebook.com/BlackSheepMuses
Book available on Amazon and other book retailers including the publisher lulu.com
https://www.lulu.com/spotlight/BlackSheep69
Podcast launches shortly on Anchor: Black Sheep Speaks