Against The Therapist’s Recommendation: We Didn’t Force an Identity on Our Adopted Child.
Originally published in Foster Focus magazine, the nation’s only monthly foster care magazine with leading contributions to the community at large. (Volume 9, Issue 1, June, 2019.) FosterFocusMag.com
“Mom? Am I gay?”
My ten-year-old son asked me in a serious tone one Tuesday morning. He ran his hands through recently dyed electric red hair. Last week it was purple. The week before it was white.
“Well, I don’t know, let’s see… who do you want to kiss, a boy or a girl?” I was fairly certain we had discussed different types of relationships, so I cut to the chase.
“Kiss?! Ohmygod, Mom… ew! No one,” he concluded.
That had me laughing. I was happy to dodge one more pre-teen hazard on this road to pubertic maturation. We had braces, glasses, greasy hair, and sweaty everythings already. I knew crushes were just around the corner, but I was happy to not add that drama to our lives yet.
It wouldn’t be the first time the thought had crossed my mind, though. But it dissipated, like fog in the morning. Knowing his orientation one way or the other wasn’t a priority in our family. What mattered to my husband and I was to raise a happy, healthy child with a positive self-esteem, sense of purpose, strong work ethic, and an unshakable faith that we would never abandon him.
My husband and I were raised in typical Gen-X/Y homes. Both were latch-key kids, taught to figure out life by checking all the “boxes” it presented. We did and we survived. But then we adopted our son.
He didn’t fit into any boxes. Not ours, nor those in our community. So, as survivors, we tossed out our prior expectations and started making new ones. Realistic ones. Succeeding in this new “woke” era would mean being flexible and compassionate—never assuming one’s outer expression could limit or otherwise define their inner potential.
In the care of his biological family, our son experienced years of emotional and physical abuse which left him fearful and angry. He spent his entire life feeling unwanted. We were determined to put an end to that. We wanted him to feel accepted in our family for who he is—whomever that might be.
In the process of fostering our son, Steven, we told him that we wanted to adopt him. At seven, he understood what that meant. He was thrilled and responded with a season of reinventing himself which threw everyone for a loop.
I guess you could say we were a bit “liberal,” or “unrestrictive” at first.
Some people thought we promoted gender neutrality or gender fluidity. Our church friends at the time were showing increasing discomfort with having their children around ours—afraid the “gayness” would rub off on their kid. Puh-lease.
One of the first things Steven wanted to change was his hair. He cut it right away. Down to the scalp. With craft scissors. When it grew out again, he cut it again. And dyed it, curled it, spiked it, and clipped bows in it. That’s right. The bows and plastic baubles were important accessories to his Disney princess dresses. He had superhero and firefighter costumes as well and wore them just as much. Sometimes, he would put on makeup and join me for a manicure or pedicure. He had his own polishes in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle color scheme.
We took heat for allowing this.
Click here to continue reading:
Therapist Scolds Parent for Allowing Adoptive Child to Explore New Identity
Janelle Molony is an adoptive mom, homeschool mom, dance mom, special needs advocate, and author/blogger at AdoptionToLife.com. She has written a memoir of her experiences fostering her now-son and overcoming legal and social battles like “Mother.”
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