By Skye Curtis-Guilhen, Adopter and Community In Reach Worker at Yorkshire Adoption Agency.
I’ve just finished recording an Episode for the We are Family podcast. We spoke about many things, but the topic that replayed on my mind the most was identity.
Talking about adoption and identity is complex because it’s lived, layered, and ongoing. As an adopter, a minority and a mother to children who are not white, this topic hits even deeper – especially at the moment. But the conversation I have (and need to continue to have) with my children about their identity, their heritage, their culture, background and ancestry, doesn’t stop because it is complex or tricky. Neither can it be neatly packaged as a conversation about ‘lifestory’, which is probably what I naively assumed 4 years back when we started our adoption journey.
As they grow up I’m learning to find ways to go on a journey with them, stepping back when needed, and letting go of a parental need to lead the way. Here are some of the things I’m learning as I go.
Identity Is Not a Straight Line
One thing I keep coming back to is how identity isn’t fixed—it shifts and grows as our children do. This reflection didn’t necessarily come from observing my little ones, but instead reflecting back on myself and on how much my identity has shifted and changed over the years. I know how I saw myself at 18 is not the same as how I see myself now. Naturally then, what my children feel at five might be totally different at fifteen. And for our children there’s an added layer: they’re not just figuring out who they are, they’re also figuring out adoption. For our children of colour, they then need to add to that thoughts around their race, culture, belonging, and (unfortunately) what this means for how others see them too. That’s a lot. And the hard part is, I’m starting to have to accept that I can’t protect them from that, neither can I shape it for them.
I’ve already seen some shifting. When my little girls was 4 she was matter of fact about adoption and her own life journey. Now, at nearly 8, she is developing more complex emotions, awareness and empathy. She is sad for her birth family. I can see how she is loved and feels loved, but she is also unsure how to match this with the loss. More recently, she’s starting to become even more aware of difference, especially the big topics of race and adoption. Where she was once proud about claiming adoption, now she is unsure, concerned about being the odd one out. Where she once didn’t see skin colour, she is now asking questions, wondering why black stories and history is confined to one month, and why someone mentioned how much darker her grandad is to her.
These moments have made me want to shield her, but I know my job (probably one of the most important ones) is to help her navigate the world as it truly is—not just the version I hope for.
Being Child-Led Isn’t Passive—although sometimes it requires us to do nothing but be there
For me, the most important way to do this well is to be open and honest. I always felt I needed to follow my mother’s mantra that “If they are old enough to ask, they are old enough to know the answer”. This was easier, though, when she was younger and when the questions were clear, loud, and easier to answer. As she’s got older, I’ve had to start to read between the lines. She’s quiet today – what happened at school. She doesn’t want to wear her favourite dress – is there some insecurity there and where does that come from. She’s asking more about the Caribbean – what is she thinking about, is there a bigger conversation to be had. She’s asking about skin colour – does she know her own heritage and history. I’ve had to become quite the reflective analyst, and there is no doubt this can be tricky at times.
Even harder, is recognising that what your child needs most is for you to do nothing, but be there. Sometimes she doesn’t want to talk. Sometimes she circles back a month later. The phrase, “I’m here whenever you want to talk” is increasingly common. It’s hard, though, to live with that. To know how much may be going on in their young minds and to know your job is to sit with them, and not to ‘fix’ it.
Then there’s the big feelings, but big feelings are normal
Grief, anger, sadness, confusion, guilt—these feelings come up. As they grow up they present differently, sometimes more suitably, sometimes louder and bigger than before. The temptation to see happiness as a sign of our success is strong—but I’ve found bonding comes with the hard times too. The sitting quietly together, holding hands, being the one they can scream at, knowing you’ll still be there after the anger subsides. I once felt it all with guilt – was I doing it wrong? Was it me? But in my own growth I’ve come to realise they’re not signs that something’s wrong. They’re signs that our children are processing something huge, something very very sad, and that they trust us enough to see it. We don’t need to, actually we can’t, fix it, but we can be there with them.
And yes, these conversations bring things up for us too—and that’s okay. We need support just as much as our children do. Like many parents, I wasn’t great at self-care to begin with. But over time, I’ve realised that the old saying is true: you can’t pour from an empty cup. If we want to show up fully for our children, especially in the emotional complexity of adoption and identity, we have to make space to care for ourselves too.
Final Thoughts
Recording this episode was an important reminder of my belief that adoption isn’t just about creating a new family—it’s about honouring the whole story. That includes birth families, cultural heritage, and the evolving identity of our children.
It’s not always easy, though. But that’s ok too, we can grow together.
If you’ve listened to the episode and it brought things up for you—questions, memories, emotions—you’re not alone. Let’s keep talking.
