Words from an intercountry adoptee living in Sweden, adopted from Colombia.
For a very long time I was one of those people who had this view that adoption is the result of a social tragedy; a situation where the victim (i.e., the adopted person) has no say in the matter — but we are expected (of course) to feel very grateful even though we lost our roots and identity, we agree we got something “finer / better” in exchange.
The fact that I knew very little about adoption (international / intercountry) and my own story, was manifested in my assumption: that all adoptions are executed “correctly and ethically” and that adoption is automatically the best solution for all of us “lucky selected” orphans.
In my ignorance, I use to say things like:
“If I had lived in Colombia, I would probably have been a street child, had a very bad time, been poor and without opportunities”. I would say this despite the fact that I knew very little about my adoption and background situation. It never occurred to me that maybe I had relatives who wanted nothing more than to take care of me? I now know what the truth is, but I didn’t know when I was younger.
My misunderstanding that a happy life in Colombia was impossible for an orphaned person and that adoption is the only correct solution to a difficult situation, made me spread and reinforce false perceptions of Colombia as a bad country, where everyone is poor, suffering and unhappy. I reinforced the opinion that the obvious thing was to feel happiness and gratitude for not growing up with my Colombian family and that the loss of my roots was of no value.
Now I’ve grown old enough to find out more about adoption, how it works and what it actually means to me. I now understand that adoption is a million dollar business worldwide and the basis for an adoption can be as bizarre as the delusion that it is by default, automatically the best way forward for all orphans.
In Colombia, I helped a fellow adoptee find her roots and it was revealed that parts of her documents were invented (fabricated) and that her adoption was a result of a family feud with the children stuck in the middle. Maybe the children got a happier life here in Scandinavia than they would in Colombia, but maybe not. In any case, it was clear that the relatives I found were not poor. On the contrary, they were rich, wealthy and had a large house with an expensive car, and half the family never approved of the adoption, but it happened anyway.
What I’m trying to say is that if we know very little about our adoption and can’t say with 100 percent certainty what the situation was, maybe we should consider the possibility that adoption could be based on wrong doings — such as kidnapping, or jealousy by an individual with a quest for revenge / destruction on others in the family. I realise in hindsight that maybe my gratitude was conceived out of ignorance and mainstream expectations and that speaking negatively about my birth country and people, resulted from not knowing much about my country and why/how I became available for adoption.
From my own journey of growth, I encourage fellow adoptees to ask questions, search for the truths when you are ready, and don’t just blindly believe what you absorb about your adoption.