As a transracially adopted person I am sitting here at the intersection of processing yet another black life taken and the announcement of the latest Gerber baby (a precious transracially-adopted girl).

First things first, witnessing the murder of Ahmaud Arbery shook me to the core. The reality that the men involved were not arrested immediately invoked rage in every cell of my body. There is no way to explain this away or to pretend this was not racially motivated. If the murderers were two black men with guns killing a white man in cold blood they'd be dead or at the very least in jail. This is why I find it urgent to do the hard work of navigating differences of race, class, and culture. This is why microaggressions need to be addressed and all matters of bias and discrimination handled. This is why I urge white parents that have adopted children of another race, (especially black and brown children), to double-down on commitments to protecting their physical, psychological, and emotional safety and well-being. This is why as I coach adoptive parents and hold them accountable, as I am also gently holding their hearts in my hands because I know they too, are terrified for their black and brown children.

No sooner had I finished supporting a fellow transracially adopted person who was terrified that as a dark-skinned black person they are not safe and honoring Ahmaud’s 26th birthday by running 2.23 miles (he was killed on February 23, 2020), I saw the Today Show segment featuring the first-ever transracially adopted Gerber Baby, the beautiful soon-tobe one-year old, Magnolia Earl.

I can’t help but see her darling face so full of life and smile. I also can’t help but be wary about another attention-grabbing headline about adoption featuring a black baby adopted by white parents. Anxious to tug at our collective heartstrings and overcome with the joyful narrative of adoption, these mainstream news pieces often leave little or no room for the complexity that sits right beside the delight. When I see these segments there is a tension between wanting to see the goodness that can come with adoption and knowing firsthand that there is also the reality of sadness and grief. I am often disappointed and sometimes angry when with their adopted child (usually too young to speak or share with consent) in tow, only the adoptive parent is asked to share their experience. Almost never is an adopted adult or parent of origin featured.

This time, to my surprise, I was encouraged that the adoptive mom made heartfelt and emotional mention of baby Magnolia’s birth family. It sounded that at least the families shared a connection and I pray that connection grows and a sustained and a healthy relationship can be maintained. Whether or not a relinquishment was voluntary, I feel for any family of origin that has to navigate being separated from a child especially when the whole world knows and social media is a buzz.

It is so hard to find the words to adequately explain why as an adopted person, seeing adoption portrayed only as a celebration is difficult. For me, it mostly stems from the fact that there was and still is very little space for me to feel anything but good and articulate anything but happy thoughts about my adoption experience. Truth is, I did feel good and happy about my family (and still do). It is also true that there was pain, sadness, and confusion (and still is). I did not have the words to match my feelings and since no one knew how to make the space for the unhappy parts and the tension, I had to do that for myself.

As I looked at Magnolia sitting on her dad’s lap surrounded by her new family, I couldn't help but hope that the love they clearly have for her translates into being fiercely dedicated to her physical, psychological, and emotional safety. I hope Magnolia’s parents are prepared for the invasion of privacy from curious strangers wanting to know where she is from and what happened to her “real” parents. I hope they make it their business to be engaged parents that hold educational professionals accountable when they treat Magnolia differently than her white classmates. I hope that they not only see to it that her hair and skin are cared for appropriately but that they also make it clear that her hair and skin are off limits to the hands of strangers and even those hands she knows must be granted permission. I hope her parents don’t make the mistake of thinking that the world will see her just as they do. I hope none of these things happen yet I know some likely will and there will be other elements to contend with that come with being a multicultural family.

I get it, especially these days, everyone loves a happy ending and seeing a family formed by adoption, especially one that includes a beautiful black baby, gives us all the feels. Sitting here at the intersection of these two very different realities both rooted in differences of race, class, and culture it is impossible not to go deeper and try get up under the serious issues that are embedded. The time for transformational work and holding space for the intersection of grief and goodness is now. May Ahmaud rest in peace and may baby Magnolia’s family and community keep her safe and protected as she continues to shine!

The Intersection of Ahmaud and Magnolia