Have you ever taken a moment to consider what it’s really like to be an adopted teenager growing up? It’s not all about new beginnings—it’s also about moving beyond loss, craving belonging, and sewing together an identity that feels whole. For many adoptees, especially those who are adopted trans-culturally or trans-nationally, adolescence is a time of profound inquiry and emotional complexity.
Adoption is not an event—it’s an experience that lasts a lifetime, one that shapes how teenagers feel about themselves and the world. Being severed from birth parents, Cam Lee Small, a licensed clinical counselor and adopted transracially, says, leaves permanent impressions on the brain, body, and spirit. Even within open and loving adoptive families, adolescents generally wrestle with issues of “Who am I?” and “Where do I belong?” –issues compounded by memories of birth families, cultural differences, and facts of ambiguous loss.
Ambiguous loss is a theory that tries to make sense of why adoptees will grieve those they’ve never really known. It’s the likelihood of the person being physically away but psychologically there.”. Adopted teens can find that birthdays, anniversaries, or even routine doctors’ visits are a reason to think about birth parents and beginnings.
As Cam Lee Small shows, respecting and honoring these losses—rather than denying or dismissing them—can actually strengthen the parent-child relationship. Trust builds when parents can sit with their child amidst sorrow or curiosity, even when responses are difficult or dissatisfying.
The words we use to talk about adoption matter. Strengths-based language assumes that individuals are doing the best that they can with what they have. Strengths-based language does not blame birth parents or guilt adoptees into believing they ought to be grateful for having been adopted.
Instead, it encourages honest, open discussion of relinquishment realities, cultural identity, and family history. As Small goes on to say, “Feeling ‘saved’ just because they were adopted is a precarious position for both child and parent.” When adoptive families objectify or demonize birth families, it can make it harder for teens to interpret their own stories and feel secure in who they are.
Teen identity formation is all about distancing from family—birth and adoptive. Adoptees experience twice the complexity with this process. They’re not just figuring out how to be apart from their adoptive parents; they’re also coping with the absence (or presence) of birth culture and family.
It can produce a moment of confusion, rage, yearning, or wanting to invent an entirely new identity. Some teens may want to reconnect with their birth culture or family, but others may feel they have to establish an identity of their own. Patience is essential. Small shares a personal story of being fired from Boy Scout camp in high school for having been underage when drinking.
His parents never punished or yelled at him; they simply sat beside him, offering grace and compassion as he tried to process what he’d learned. Especially in the adolescent years, adoptees are storing so much inside, and what they need most is a calm, attentive adult who can help them sort through their feelings without judgment or anxiety. So what does this all mean for professionals and parents working with adopted adolescents? It means being open to exploring ambiguous loss, speaking positively about strengths, and exercising patience—even when the solutions aren’t certain or the journey is slow.
It means understanding that adoption is interactive with adolescence in special ways, and that each adoptee’s experience must be given room, dignity, and respect. By giving caring, compassionate care and sticking around for the ups and downs, adolescents can learn to accept their adoption experience and grow into confident, empowered adults.