Reimagining Adoption Through Connection, Honesty, and Community

The recent study from the University of East Anglia and PAC-UK, shared via Adoption England, provides a deeply moving and important insight into the lived experiences of more than 1,600 adopted adults. These stories—often filled with longing, complexity, and pain—speak volumes about the emotional weight of adoption and the critical need for lifelong support, honesty, and connection.

As the CEO and founder of Proud 2 b Parents—and more importantly, as a parent through adoption—I found myself reading the findings with a heavy heart and hopeful mind. The experiences shared in the report echo what many of us working in adoption have known for some time: that connection, truth, and belonging are not optional. They are essential.

For many of these adults, the desire to reconnect with birth families isn’t about replacing the families who raised them—it’s about filling in the blanks, understanding themselves more fully, and reclaiming the narratives that were once hidden. Their stories remind us that adoption doesn’t begin and end with placement. It’s a lifelong journey that evolves with time, context, and maturity.

But as I read, I couldn’t help but think forward.

What might the future hold for the next generation of adopted children—those being raised in families where openness isn’t feared but embraced? Where life story work isn’t a file on a shelf but a living, evolving conversation? Where adoptive parents are supported to be therapeutic, emotionally present, and courageous in their honesty?

This is the kind of parenting we strive for in our home. And it’s the kind of support we nurture at Proud 2 b Parents—a community built by and for LGBT+ parents and carers navigating the joys and challenges of family life.

We’ve seen, again and again, how powerful it is when families through adoption are surrounded by understanding peers, affirming professionals, and safe spaces to ask questions and share truths. When children grow up knowing their story—when nothing is off-limits or whispered behind closed doors—it lays the foundation for a confident, rooted identity. It gives children permission to feel everything without shame: grief, gratitude, curiosity, confusion, and love.

This shift feels especially personal to me.

My own mother was adopted in an era where secrecy and silence were the norm. She spent most of her adult life searching for scraps of information, often hitting dead ends and closed doors. Watching her journey unfold—slow, painful, and often unsupported—left a lasting impression on me. It showed me what happens when adopted people are denied their truths, their history, and their agency.

And now, as a parent to a child through adoption, I see what’s possible when we do things differently.

My son knows his story. He knows when he was born, who was there, and the journey we took to create our family. We don’t wait for “the right age” to share these things—because there is no right age for truth. There is only love, safety, and the ongoing promise that no question is too big or too hard for us to face together.

This is why I advocate so strongly for better life story work—for clear, compassionate recording in tools like the Child Permanence Report (CPR). Because every child deserves access to the whole picture. No one should grow up piecing together their identity from fragments left behind.

We also need to consider the realities and possibilities for the next generation of adopted individuals—those growing up in families where nothing about their story is hidden, where no question is off-limits, and where adoption isn’t treated as a source of shame but celebrated as part of who they are. This generation hasn’t yet had the chance to be studied, to have their experiences reflected upon in research. Yet, we’re already seeing agencies, policymakers, and developers moving quickly toward concepts like lifelong openness or “maintaining relationships” approaches—without fully understanding what outcomes may arise for those growing up with enriched, therapeutic, and affirming adoption journeys. We must pause and ask: what is the impact of growing up in a family that values honesty, identity, and peer connection? What can we learn from those who experience adoption not as secrecy or rupture, but as story, strength, and love?

This is why at Proud 2 b Parents, we hold spaces like Families Through Adoption as vital components of our offer. These gatherings aren’t just social—they’re lifelines. They’re where parents and children see themselves reflected, supported, and celebrated. It’s also why we work closely with regional adoption agencies to share our insights, challenge assumptions, and shape practice. And it’s why I personally sit on several regional adoption panels—bringing lived experience into the room to help shape decisions that will impact future families. Because our stories matter. And they should help build a better, more honest future for adoption.

So imagine, just for a moment, what the long-term impact of this approach might be.

What if the adopted adults of tomorrow told a different story? One of openness, not secrecy. One of connection, not dislocation. One where birth family contact—when safe and appropriate—is considered, not feared. One where shame is replaced by pride, and identity isn’t something to be uncovered later, but nurtured all along.

I truly believe we’re on the cusp of that shift.

And future research will tell us more. It will capture the voices of young people raised in homes where adoption isn’t a secret, but a celebrated part of who they are. It will show us what’s possible when community, transparency, and trauma-informed parenting are the norm—not the exception.

At Proud 2 b Parents, we’ll continue to play our part in shaping that future. We’ll keep building spaces where families feel seen, supported, and strong. We’ll keep centring the voices of adopted people, learning from their wisdom and pain. And we’ll keep reimagining adoption—not as an event, but as a lifelong process grounded in love, honesty, and connection.

Because every adopted person deserves more than just a home. They deserve their story. Their voice. And a community that holds every part of who they are.