Intercountry adoptees as transracial immigrants in the USA

by Kris Rao, born in India and adopted to the USA. Insta: @indianlatediscoveryadoptee

Racial profiling and living in fear

In 2015, I remember reading about Sureshbhai Patel¹. Patel had just arrived a week prior to Alabama to help take care of his 17 month old grandson. He did not speak English. One morning he took a stroll around his son’s house when a man in the neighborhood called 911 to report a suspicious man.

Two police officers arrived shortly. Patel informed them that he did not speak English. One of the officers threw Patel face first to the ground. This encounter left Patel partially paralyzed.

This incident shook me to my core and brought to mind one of many personal experiences.

In 2012, when my wife and I first bought our house, I recall walking our dog in the neighborhood. As we passed one particular home, an older woman inside saw us from her window and deliberately locked her car doors with her key fob as we walked by. As “minor” as that might seem, it’s a stark reminder of how quickly one person’s ignorance can lead to a call that could jeopardize my safety. I’ve often wondered if the presence of my wife, who is white, kept that encounter from turning into something worse. Kept that woman from calling the police.

A few years before that when we were dating, she took me to an outdoor production of a historical drama, “Tecumseh!”. You sit beneath the stars in a beautiful amphitheater. It’s an incredible experience as your surrounded by a herd of galloping horses, live military cannon in action, and the most dazzling battle sequences on stage. We found some seats, settled in, and patiently waiting for the show to start. Behind us, a couple sat down. We overheard them trying to figure out where I was from. Minutes later, they stood up and moved farther away. I can’t help but believe they feared me — or at least, feared the uncertainty of my skin color.

It’s now 2025, and I’ve been struggling for a while now to articulate the anxieties that have been weighing heavily on me. The words have been hard to find, but the only way I can put words down is to be direct.

Like many intercountry adoptees — and like many people of colour — I’m increasingly afraid of what the future holds, especially under the current administration. As a transracial intercountry adoptee, there are real questions around citizenship. But beyond that, I’m also simply a person of colour in a country that still views people like me with suspicion.

I am an immigrant. This nation may be a country built by immigrants, but the stark truth is, I’m not the right color. I don’t fit the “right” racial profile in the eyes of some. It’s that plain and simple. It is the reality I face.

We are living in a time when those in power seem to operate without accountability, saying and doing whatever they please. From where I’m standing, there are a lot of unkind and hateful individuals at the top. And tragically, their words and actions embolden others to do the same. The old adage, “if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all,” feels very irrelevant in this climate where hate speech is normalized.

Shortly after Trump was elected the first time, the tragic killing² of an Indian man in a Kansas bar in 2017, solidified many of my fears. He was simply minding his own business when he was shot, hearing the words, “Go back to your own country.” I can’t help but wonder how many more people around listen to our current President and think that it’s now okay to openly be hateful towards people of colour.

My anxieties, I know, are rooted in disturbing realities, such as the ones I mentioned, and my own personal experiences. Every time I travel whether it’s for work or personal reasons, I am always concerned about my safety and stay vigilant, especially as I pass through many smaller towns. And now, here we are. Not only am I concerned about those that are wilfully ignorant, but I also worry about the current administration that is reportedly considering revoking the citizenship of those they deem undesirable.

I was adopted into this country full of immigrants. And yet I’ve never truly felt a sense of belonging or acceptance. I’m constantly aware of how I’m perceived, feeling immense pressure to hold myself to higher standards and behave in a way that doesn’t trigger unfounded suspicion in others. It’s a burden I also feel compelled to pass on to my children, just to stay safe.

Recently, Trump has verbally attacked Zohran Mamdani. Going so far as to say he should be deported and denaturalized. Mamdani was born in Uganda, to an Indian family. He is legally a citizen and is the Democratic nominee for Mayor of New York City in the 2025 election.

In a recent clip³ from Zohran Mamdani, his response to Trump perfectly encapsulates this pervasive dread:

“If this is what Donald Trump and his administration feel comfortable about saying about the Democratic nominee for the Mayor of New York City, imagine what they feel comfortable saying and doing about immigrants whose names they don’t even know.“

Mamdani’s words echo questions that haunt me. Questions that I wonder about those around me: Where will you be when they come for me? Where are you now? If you’re unwilling to stand up for people you don’t know, how can I expect you to stand up for me, someone you do know?

Adding to this chilling reality, ICE has just been funded with over $100 billion⁴, further empowering them to terrorise and tear apart families based solely on the colour of our skin.

A few days ago I came across a video on Reddit⁵ that finally pushed me to put something together and write down. The video, shows an interaction where a white man confronts an Indian man with a camera, demanding to know why he’s here, and telling him to go back to India. His unkind words and colourful language is hard to listen to.

All these incidents. All these people that think it’s okay to treat others with this hate and vitriol. None of them, not a single one are distant, isolated moments; they are the reality I live in.

This is America, right now, and it’s a reality that demands our attention and action.