"Who Will I Look Like?"

As adoptees hit the tween years, they may wonder what their physical future holds.

byJulie Michaels

As my daughter, Lily, approached adolescence, she became an inveterate bra-shopper. Every time we went to a mall, she searched for the right brassiere to hold her developing bosom. Not that she ever wore the bras. "Someone might see the straps under my shirt," Lily explained.

Identity Struggles

I was willing to pay for these purchases because I remembered my own confusion at the transformation of my body. I’d look at my mother’s body and wonder, "Would my breasts be like hers?" and "How old was she when she began wearing a bra?" Still, a glance at my mother gave me a pretty good idea of what I’d look like. My daughter, however, could find few clues to her own physical future in me.

"From the earliest moments of puberty, adoptees wonder who they are as developing adults," writes psychiatrist Elinor B. Rosenberg, in her book, The Adoption Life Cycle. Children who have photographs of birthparents, or who have actually met them, have an advantage. But the child who knows only that her birthmother was "petite," or her birthfather was "heavyset"—or who knows nothing at all—will inevitably wonder.

How can parents help? Talking about puberty is a good start. When Lily began her bra shopping, we talked about how my body is different from hers. We discussed what she might expect, what her biological mother might have looked like, and how she compared to her classmates. At times, I could provide few answers, but she seemed truly appreciative of my joining her in her musings.

Being resourceful, Lily also looked elsewhere. On a trip to New York City, Lily carefully studied Asian women on the street. "Mom, see that woman," Lily whispered to me. "I think I’m going to look like her someday." Or, "I think I’m going to be taller than that girl when I’m grown."

Lily’s comments reminded me of how important it is that transracially adopted children have role models of the same ethnicity. We are lucky to have quite a few Asian friends. But just as important, I think, are incidental role models. One winter, our family attended the Wellesley College Asian Students’ Cultural Festival. My daughter could have cared less about making origami animals, but she was fascinated by the girls—to see how they dressed, laughed, and talked. And to see how big their breasts were.

Parents cannot alleviate all the sadness or confusion of our tweens’ identity struggles, but we can acknowledge their task and help in small, but important, ways.

Julie Michaels, an editor and writer, lives with her family in Massachusetts.

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