‘I Was Convinced It Was a Black Child—I Panicked & Had No Clue How to Care for a White Child’: 19-Year-Old Overcomes Racial Barriers, Adopts 3 White Sons

Love is what matters? You’re absolutely right. But what is love? It’s an action word, it requires more than just saying it. It’s a hug, nursing the sick, crying tears of joy and it’s adoption. Adoption is love. Fostering is love.

I grew up in the inner city of Richmond, Virginia, raised by my grandmother Cora at the age of four. How did I end up with my grandmother? Long story, but the short version is my parents made some very selfish and poor decisions that affected my life.

I spent the first four years of my life bouncing from home to home between my parents, friends, and family before finally settling in with my Grandmother Cora.

Living with her granted me the opportunity to be among dozens of adults who cared about me. I spent the majority of my childhood waiting for my biological parents to care about me, to come see me, to acknowledge my existence as someone they created. It got to the point where I was so blinded by the need to be seen by my parents that I completely ignored the fact that I had this entire other community who had my back. It wasn’t until I was 16 or 17 years old when I realized this.

As a teen, I kept a few journals. I remember writing one entry that said, ‘One day, I would like to adopt.’ Why would I write that at 17? Probably due to myself always being a person that looked out for those younger than me. Making sure my younger sister and I ate something when my mother would leave us home alone at the ages of 2 and 4. I’ve always been a good big brother, at least in my opinion. I guess I thought there was no doubt I’d be a great father as well. Hence, the writing in my journal.

In 2006, I moved out of my grandmother’s home and into my own place. I worked like a dog every day. Sometimes fifty hours a week. After almost a year of being on my own, I began to feel unfulfilled. I was not sure what I was missing at the time. I definitely knew I wanted a new job. So, I picked up an employment guide newsletter to see my career options. As I flipped through the pages, there it was, an advertisement saying, ‘Become a Foster Parent Today. Must be 18 or older.’ I said to myself, ‘Well, I’m 19 (almost 20) so I meet the minimum requirements. I’ll give them a call and see if they will take me seriously.’

Soon after, I set up the interview, went in to have a conversation and surprisingly was approved to go through training. The director of the agency believed in my ability to be a foster parent but was very honest telling me she doesn’t think that any social worker will be jumping at the opportunity to place a child in a home with a 20-year-old single male. I agreed with her and said I’d remain patient.

When filling out my paperwork there was a strange category asking what race I would be comfortable with in my home. I would hate to think I was closed minded and ignorant enough to not take in a child based on their race, so I checked all the boxes, thinking to myself, ‘What are the odds of me getting any child in my home besides a black child anyway?’