Color blind love

Anne Hosier

Thursday, Dec. 18, 1997 | 8:39 a.m.

Bill and Janet Lovelace were waiting at the hospital to see the newborn daughter they were planning to adopt, when their attorney gave them what he believed to be some important news.

"(She)'s very, very black," he warned. "If you decide you don't want to keep her, let me know. I'll find another home for her."

The Lovelaces were stunned.

The couple had given their decision to adopt a minority child careful consideration, engaging in months of "soul-searching" discussions with one another, their natural daughter Erin, and their extended families. All had given their blessing and were awaiting this delivery as eagerly as they had when Erin was born. There was no chance that the family would change their minds because of the color of her skin. "That was never an option," Janet says.

Still, their attorney's remark served as an unpleasant reminder that not everyone views "transracial" adoption as a positive thing.

"Over the years (transracial) adoption has been very controversial," says Deborah Gregg, director of adoption services at Catholic Charities of Southern Nevada, who, along with her husband, has adopted two Hispanic girls. "You have a lot of levels of things to look at."

"It's really a loaded issue," agrees Wanda Scott, adoption program specialist for the Nevada Division of Child and Family Services (DCFS), who estimates that 26 of the 250 adoptions her department handled last year involved "transracial" placements. That number is on the rise.

"I know I'm seeing more (transracial placements.)"

Questions and concerns

In recent years, several groups have openly questioned the appropriateness of allowing Caucasian parents to adopt minority and bi-racial children (a topic raised in the 1995 movie "Losing Isaiah.") Some of the controversy has stemmed from purely racist sentiment within segments of the white population. Yet the debate has also been stirred by members of minority communities who fear the erosion of their cultural identity.

In 1978, for example, several Native American groups lobbied successfully for the passage of the "Indian Child Welfare Act," which requires social workers to notify tribal officials of any child of Native American descent who is available for adoption and ask the tribal officials if they want jurisdiction over the matter.

"We want to make sure our culture is perpetuated," says Richard Arnold, executive director of the Las Vegas Indian Center. "It makes it very difficult (to do that) if they're placed in a non-Indian home."

Members of the National Association of Black Social Workers (NABSW) have also publicly stated their position on transracial adoption:

"We believe the placement of choice for black children is with black families," says Toni Oliver, co-chairperson of the National Association of Black Social Workers' Committee on Foster Care and Adoption and co-founder of Roots, Georgia's first and only African-American adoption agency.

Elaine Brooks, who has fostered more than 100 children "from all different races and cultures," agrees that children are better off with parents of the same race "in an ideal world."

"In an ideal world, they'd be raised by their own parents, by whoever gave birth to them," she says. "But unfortunately, it's not an ideal world."

Matter of black and white

According to NABSW's statistics, about 40 percent of the nearly 500,000 children currently in foster care in the United States are black. "African- American kids are over-represented in the system," says Sharon Hidveghe, adoption social worker for the Nevada Division of Child and Family Services. "And we have a shortage of African-American adoptive families."

Oliver disputes this oft-asserted claim, pointing out that many of these families often come to her after having been turned away from primarily white agencies. "They feel they've been screened out of other agencies either because they don't make enough money, or they don't live in the right neighborhood, or because they're single, or they because of their educational attainment," Oliver says. "In this society we equate a person's ability to parent with their having attained certain things." (Other sources concede that the issue of "institutional racism" does need to be addressed in order to recruit willing and capable black adoptive families.)

With little regard for this point, Congress in 1994 passed into law the "Multi-Ethnic Placement Act" to prohibit federally funded agencies from discriminating against prospective adoptive parents on the basis of race. The idea was to make it easier for parents of any race to adopt kids languishing in foster care.

And to a certain extent, the law did that. "The Multi-Ethnic Placement Act certainly has opened up some doors that were previously closed in terms of transracial adoption," says Deb Harder, program services manager for Adoptive Families of America, a national, non-profit support group for adoptive parents.

As agencies stepped up their transracial placements, many also began offering special training to prepare parents for the challenges involved in raising children of a different cultural and racial background.

"The family really needs to be open and ready to handle questions that come their way in the grocery store," says Gregg, who offers such training as part of Catholic Charities' fledgling "Children of Color" adoption program.

Child-rearing hurdles

There was no such training available 13 years ago when Elaine and Bill Brooks decided to adopt Tommy (not his real name), then an 11-year-old child of Mexican descent, who had already been through a failed adoption. (The adoptive parents had turned him over to Nevada child welfare authorities after divorcing.)

"We were real naive," says Elaine, who has since adopted five children, including two of mixed-race, and is awaiting the finalization of the adoption of two African-American boys. "Talk about cultural differences!"

Tommy objected to Bill's habit of helping out with "women's work," like sweeping and doing dishes. "In the culture he was raised in, mom was seen but not heard," Elaine says. "She sat in the back seat, and he and his dad sat in the front seat in the car. Then he came here, and I drive. He couldn't handle that."

Tommy also was shocked to see Elaine handling money. "He used to argue with me all the time that I wasn't supposed to have any money, that (Bill) was supposed to have it all. Well that's not the way it works in this house!" She and Bill exchange glances and laugh.

The Brooks figured Tommy was simply trying to "blow placement," Elaine says. "Kids at a certain age, especially after a failed adoption, they start thinking they're going to get out before you kick 'em out, because 'it's not going to work out anyway.' "

Later, however, it seemed that Tommy was struggling to come to terms with his racial identity.

As a teenager, he left home, fell in with Mexican street gangs, and got in some trouble that landed him in prison. Being incarcerated reinforced his Hispanic identity and his rebellion against his adoptive parents. "He's made statements to me that he would 'only marry a Mexican girl,' " Elaine says, adding that she is not at all insulted by the comment.

The Brooks believe that Tommy's experiences with his failed adoption contributed to his problems. Yet they also feel that they could have used some advice on how to deal with Tommy's racial identity.

"If we had had the support from the state, it would have helped a lot," Bill says.

Getting answers

Later, as the Brooks took on other children of different, and often mixed, races, they sought out the advice of their African-American friends. "I just had concerns that I wanted to do it right," Elaine says. "We had concerns about making sure (the kids) grew up healthy and confident."

Elaine attended a workshop offered by the state at which a representative of the L.A.-based Institute for Black Parents spoke. "He recommended things like 'seeking out positive black role models for these children' and 'doing all the holiday celebrations of their culture,' " Elaine says. "I came out of there all fired up. I was going to come home and make sure all these things got done."

In discussing the matter later with a close African-American friend, however, Elaine modified her position. "I asked her if I should be taking them to Kwanzaa celebrations or something, and she just started laughing at me," Elaine says. "She said, 'Honey, you just love those kids and they'll find their own culture.' "

Elaine admits that she's still shopping for Christmas stockings with black Santas on them for the boys. But for the most part, the Brooks have relaxed their position on enforced cultural enrichment. Now they just try to "be open" to the kinds of questions their kids ask. They are always honest with the kids, and tell them everything they know about their origins. The Brooks also take them to visit their "birth families" on a regular basis.

And "if they ask to go to a Kwanzaa celebration, we just make sure they go," she says.

'Family of color'

The Lovelaces -- who, after adopting a baby girl they call Tamra, decided to add a Hispanic boy, Billy, to their brood -- are also grappling with their identity as a "family of color."

"It's a very special adoption when you adopt a (different race) child," Janet says. "(But) you'll come across some challenges, and you have to be aware of those challenges."

Some of those challenges involve dealing with the curiosity and occasional hostility of strangers. When Janet is out shopping with Tamra, for example, onlookers will sometimes make comments. People have also approached Billy and spoken to him in Spanish.

The 4-year-old doesn't understand a word.

"I wish I had a greater cultural knowledge base," Bill says.

Janet has been searching for a baby doll that looks like 5-year-old Tamra -- to little avail. "They have black babies that are very black, and white babies, and now they're getting Hispanic babies," she says. "But they don't have dolls that match Tamra."

"Before, when we bought children's books and pictures, we didn't pay much attention to who was in the books, we didn't pay attention to the color of the children," she says. "Now we're much more aware of that."

The addition of Tamra and Billy to the family has changed the way the Lovelaces view the world. And it's had an impact on where they choose to live.

"We feel really blessed that we're here in such an accepting community (where) anything goes," Janet says.

When the Lovelaces adopted the two children, they were living in Florida. Bill thinks that might have had something to do with their attorney's "warning" about the color of Tamra's skin.

It was an insensitive remark, especially given the fact that the couple was already under considerable emotional stress.

"It's very scary adopting anyway when you have a natural child, because you always wonder if you can ever love this child as much as your first child," Janet says.

Those doubts vanished, however, when the nurse placed the bundle in Janet's arms. Suddenly Janet remembered the day a delivery room nurse had handed the squealing little bundle she now calls Erin.

"It was exactly the same feeling."

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