Black Motherhood Matters

As a Black adoptive mom, I am constantly in tune with my intersections of identity. I have grown accustomed to my experiences of motherhood being marginalized, as most adoption conversations and resources center on the experiences of white adoptive mothers. Living in the margins is not where I take up residence, so I have committed myself to unapologetically taking up space to help counter the narratives that discount the experiences of black women. Our stories matter. Our motherhood matters. Black adoptive motherhood matters.

Adoption became a special part of my heart in 2007. I was assigned to a foster and adoption agency for my Master’s in Family Therapy clinical internship. I can still remember so many of the kids there – disproportionately black. No theory or class had adequately prepared me as a therapist to face the complexity of race and adoption. Let me be clear, Black children are overrepresented in foster care because of racism. Many of their families’ experiences cannot be separated from racial injustice and trying to cope with systemic oppression. As a Black woman, I could connect with aspects of their lived realities. Many of them would ask me, “Why don’t YOU adopt me?” I was 23 years old at the time and still calling family members for $10…$5 on the rough days. Yet, I saw their pain. In my heart, I knew I would “be back” to do more…

In 2018, after much prayer and deliberation – my husband, David, and I adopted our two beautiful children. We could not think of anyone Black in our personal circle or beyond who had formally adopted. We had so many questions. We felt like we were walking into the unknown. There was no guidebook for us. I kept thinking, “If I feel this way as someone who has worked in adoption, I can’t imagine how other Black women who adopt feel.” I just felt like I needed to see and hear stories from other Black women who had walked this path. I knew there had to be other women like me who had adopted out there. After extensive searches for books, movies, research on Black adoptive moms was unfruitful, I went to social media. *insert angelic music* I found a Facebook group that became my saving grace. I asked so many questions, and there was so much peace in the group. (This was different from several general adoption groups I joined where I felt like I had to fight to be heard and understood as a black woman.) 

I can still remember how excited I was when I saw a flyer in said Facebook group about a summer camp for adopted children of color and their families. “Yes! I’m going to meet my PEOPLE!” I assumed I would meet tons of people of color who had also adopted children of color. As the time came closer to the camp, we were given a photo directory of all the families who would be attending. I was shocked to find that my husband and I were the only black couple at the camp. Most parents were white, and there were a few interracial couples, and also a small amount of single parents of color. Not that I have any issue with the contextual backgrounds of the couples, it was just not what I expected. I expected a good mix of varying races. Our first night at the camp literally changed the trajectory of my life. The children were invited to sit on the floor in the front of the room for our first large program. All of the parents were asked to sit in chairs that were situated behind the children. There was a sea of about 100 children of color, about 90 percent of them were Black. Behind the sat their parents…90 percent of the approximate 200 parents were white. The weight of that moment has lived with me since that day. In my mind, I understood transracial adoption. Yet, in my soul I experienced one of the deepest sorrows I have ever felt. I could not hold back my emotions – I wept for the entire session. As the camp unfolded, I was overwhelmed by the stories of adult adoptees and birth family members who were so gracious with their stories and transparency. 

A theme that emerged for me as I listened to their stories was a desire for a trustworthy space where they could fully be themselves and be able to see themselves reflected in their families. Yet, there was often a deep appreciation and connection to their adoptive parents and families. I kept thinking to myself, “If more Black people were able to see the depth and complexity of these children’s experiences, something would shift. The numbers of us adopting would increase.” I just knew it. During that week, it came to me – I had to do something. I knew I could not solve it all, but I could do something. I knew what I needed – a connection with other Black people who had adopted where our experiences could be centered, and not filtered through programming that was created for white parents who are parenting children of a different race. I envisioned a space for Black women who have adopted to gather to support and encourage one another. Our experiences and needs as mothers could, for once, be centered. It came to me so clearly – Fabulous Adoptive Black Moms! The acronym would be FAB Moms! Each word equally as important. Every word represented parts of us. Most stories and narratives about Black people and adoption are often far from pretty. FABULOUS. There was a clear purpose in honoring the beauty of our humanity. ADOPTIVE. Adoption is complex, and there is a unique connection those touched by adoption share. This cannot be ignored or treated as if it does not impact our lives, our children, our families, and our communities. BLACK. I can remember people asking me when I first shared my vision if I really wanted to be explicit about the group centering on the experiences of black women. Yes! Too often, mothering is synonymous with white women parenting children. We are here. We exist. MOMS. I can remember times when I felt like I was anything but a mother. I questioned if I really was a “babysitter” or an imposter. Nope. I am a mommity-mom.

FABULOUS ADOPTIVE BLACK MOMS – FAB Moms was formed! The vision was to create a formalized network of Black women who are mothers through adoption, highlight our stories, and help to increase the number of Black women who adopt. I do not believe in coincidences. FAB Moms officially launched in February of 2020. Within a month, COVID hit, and three months later the injustices and lived experiences of Black people in this country were at the forefront. The FAB Mom sisterhood is simply beautiful. We represent varying nationalities, sexual orientations, religions, relationship statuses, socioeconomic groups, and the list goes on. Yet, from our first event – the bond was clear and strong. The next time you think or hear someone say, “Black People Don’t Adopt” – please remember us FAB Moms. Black people do adopt and have done so for generations. Yet, our stories have gone unseen and untold. We are here and our motherhood matters. 

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WRITTEN BY CHRISTINE BELIARD: Christine is the creator and curator of FAB Moms – Fabulous Adoptive Black Moms. She hails from Dallas, Texas, but has called Fort Lauderdale, Florida home since 2011. Christine is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist and supervisor, professor, trainer, speaker, and consultant. Her work centers on the influence of historical racial trauma on couples and families of color. She has provided clinical services to families for over 15 years and has specialized in the provision of relevant training and direct services to African American couples and families. Her greatest achievement is her family. She and her husband David married on 12.13.14 and are the proud adoptive parents of David (DJ) and Ava.

FAB Moms is an outgrowth of the personal journey of Christine. When she and David considered adoption, they could not think of one Black person in their personal or professional networks who had adopted. There were so many questions, fears, hopes, and needs that they both held, but there were so few resources that spoke to them as Black people interested in adoption. Christine made it her mission to build her own network and community with other adoptive moms. This started from her need to be supported as she became an adoptive mom. 

Despite dominant discourse that centers the needs of white adoptive parents, Black people DO adopt, and have done so (both informally and formally) for generations. Social networking and the power of sharing her story has connected her with other Black adoptive moms. She was awe-inspired by the stories and strength of so many Black women who are also touched by adoption. Christine believed that there was a need for a formalized way for other Black adoptive moms to curate a safe space to share and support one another in their journeys. She envisioned a space that allows their voices and stories to be centered, and a place where Black adoptive moms can retreat to for support, wisdom, and sisterhood.