SERIES: Seven Core Issues in Adoption and Permanency – Identity

Seven Core Issues in Adoption & Permanency - Identity Horz. Image

Written by April Dinwoodie, Founder of Adoptment, Speaker, Author, & Podcast Host

Published on: Jun 04, 2026

Category Seven Core Issues

Adoption Identity from the Inside Out: Building a Beautiful House

My dad has always been able to build and fix just about anything. He helped to build the house we lived in for the first 15 years of my life and then rebuilt the original farmhouse he was born and raised in. As we approach June and Father’s Day, I find myself reflecting on my dad’s foundational skills. Witnessing him at work as he built everything from end tables to full-scale homes, I found a deep appreciation for the process of building things. I also had an appreciation for my mom, who was almost always right there with my dad when she wasn’t working or looking after my siblings and me. Together, my parents possessed endless skills to build the physical and technical structures we needed as a family. What they didn’t always have were the emotional and relational skills to build the elements inside the walls that held us together, especially when it came to what I needed as a transracially adopted person.

Most people are born into a house that is already built and furnished with family traits, medical histories, and “you look just like your uncle” genetic mirroring. For the adopted person, the “house of identity” often feels like a DIY project where the instructions are in a different language and the foundation was poured by someone we’ve never met.

When I was in grade school, my dad had an idea to build a passive solar house. The design is called envelope construction: it is essentially a house within a house with a greenhouse on the front and three feet of sand below the baseboards. This system allows air to flow between the two structures to heat and cool the living space without a central heating or cooling system. I was so excited about this house and was wrapped up in the process of its building. I would often walk down to the site to check on progress and ask the crew how I could help. When the house was finished, I felt a deep sense of accomplishment, even winning the science fair with a mini-replica I constructed with my dad out of balsa wood.

Through years of navigating my adopted life, I realize that I, too, am an “envelope construction.” I have an inner house (my biological self, my heritage, and my true origin story) living inside an outer house (my adoptive family’s values, culture, and love). For the air to flow and for the house to be a place of thriving, I needed more than a sturdy outer shell; I needed specific tools to finish the interior.

The Anatomy of the Envelope: Needed vs. Received

The outer house my adoptive parents built was wholesome. It was built on land that was in the family for generations. The foundation was technically solid, but ruptures in the family created separation and relational tension that still exists today. There were comforts in the outer house I was adopted into, such as home-cooked meals and sweets, family game nights, and a small farm with gardens that nurtured and sustained us. Nature, time outside, and transactional work were part of our culture, but relational skill development was not.

The foundation of my inner house was made with the genetics of Helen, my mother of origin, and my father of origin. I am not in a relationship with either one of them as an adult and have spent years wondering about the parts of my original construction. From the ground up, the bricks of my inner house were cemented with grief, loss and questions. These elements are always there, sometimes impossible to remove and hard for people to understand. Because of this reality, the walls of my inner house are both incredibly thick for protection and terribly thin. Because the professionals and my adoptive parents did not have the blueprints needed to construct a home that honored family separation, trauma, and differences of race, I furnished the rooms of my inner house with Disney narratives and fairytales. I spent time dreaming of where I came from and who I was while trying to keep the sprinkler system of my tears of sadness and frustration from flooding the house daily.

The tension we were navigating is that the outer house, which was my adoptive container, didn’t recognize my inner house, which held my origins and the impact of family separation. There was a lack of communication between the layers which affected the airflow. Here is a look inside the inner and outer houses room by room, breaking down what I needed versus what I got, along with practical tools for parents as they construct the spaces and places for the children entrusted to them to thrive.

The Entryway (Belonging & Origins)
- What I Got: A warm and welcoming entry point my parents created for family and community with open arms that didn’t always include an openness for my origins.
- What I Needed: To see my original narrative represented right at the front door. I needed my birth history to be an integrated part of the home’s decor, not hidden in a basement filing cabinet.
- Practical Tool for Families: “The Story-Wall Strategy.” Don’t wait for the child to ask. Integrate photos, maps of birth regions, or cultural artifacts into the common areas of the house so the “inner house” is visible from the moment you cross the threshold.
The Kitchen (Mirroring & Sustenance)
- What I Got: A mismatched family dinner table where genetic mirroring was on the menu for everyone except me.
- What I Needed: To see my physical traits reflected and celebrated with mirroring that told me I was beautiful and made sense, even if I didn’t look like the rest of the family.
- Practical Tool for Families: “The Mirroring Audit.” Explicitly point out physical and nonphysical traits in the child that are unique. Say, “I love how your mind works and that’s a special part of who you are.”
The Library (Narrative & Truth)
- What I Got: An array of beautiful books and stories that I loved but didn’t always see myself in.
- What I Needed: The fuller blueprint. I needed age-appropriate access to the “why” and “how” of my adoption to help regulate the temperature of my internal world.
- Practical Tool for Families: “The Open-Book Policy.” Use the book “Seven Core Issues in Adoption and Permanency” as a guide to check in regularly. Ask: “Is there a part of your story that feels blurry lately? Let’s look together.”

The Construction Crew: Helpers for Maintaining the Airflow

In an envelope house, if the vents are blocked, the house becomes stifling or freezing. To keep the air moving, you must introduce the “Sub-contractors”:

Family of Origin: The original architects who help explain the foundation. Even if parents of origin are not accessible and the narrative contains complexity, there is almost always someone in the extended family of origin or even fictive kin who can help create a grounding to origins. And, there are pathways to sharing and holding complex realities when you have the grounding and support as parents.
Professionals: Adoption-competent professionals who have the tools and training to meet individuals and families are essential to building strong and healthy foundations.
Mentors: I always say to adoptive parents, “do not let your child be the only.” Mentors who have similar lived experiences can offer children a pathway to validation and connection.
Community: Being integrated into communities where your family structures are mirrored and where there is validation for you and your children can be a difference maker.

Identity is a home we finish from the inside out. As an adopted person, the idea of being a “work in progress” has a tremendous number of layers that were unrecognized by those around me. It has taken me years to realize how my inner and outer houses could be holistically connected to create my whole home.

Adopted persons, you do not have to draft the blueprints for your home alone. Parents, you have a responsibility to be the supervisors of an intricate and skilled crew that understands an inner world that you likely do not know. When you do this well and create places that have integrity, scaffold, and intention, the children entrusted to you will want to come home to you long after they are no longer under your roof.

Today, I live in the little envelope house my dad built and I marveled at the construction of. It is a special place both physically and relationally. Today, while the physical house has stood the test of time and is stronger than ever, my work on my inner house and the recognition of my outer house has created harmony and a flow that allows me to share what I have constructed with other adoptive families and the world.