'We need to talk about the racism behind adoption'
For a long time, it was thought that adoption from abroad was good for the intended parents and for the child, but from 2030 it will no longer be allowed. Theatre maker José Montoya (45), who was adopted from Colombia, never believed in the 'adoption fairy tale'. 'The idea that a child in a 'third world country' is worse off than here is racist.'
“Many adopted people hear their whole lives that they should just be grateful and not complain,” says theater maker and visual artist José Montoya (45). Adoption is a recurring theme in his theater work. In 2021, he made the performance To be of never been about his own adoption story. And last November, together with four other program makers with a history of adoption, he organized the cultural stage Ver Van Hier in Rotterdam, to let 'a different voice' be heard about intercountry adoption. “We debunk the adoption fairy tale.”
Intercountry adoption, abuses and prohibition
Since 1956, it has been possible to adopt a child from the Netherlands or Europe in the Netherlands. In 1974, it also became possible to adopt a child from outside Europe, which soon concerned the vast majority of adoptions. Between 1974 and 2023, more than 42,000 children were adopted from abroad, of whom 406 in the last five years ( CBS and FIOM ).
In 2021, the government largely halted new international adoption procedures, following a damning committee report on child theft, child trafficking and corruption, among other things. Since May of this year, it has no longer been possible to start a new international asylum procedure. Several hundred procedures are still ongoing, which must be completed within six years. From 2030 , adoption of children from abroad will no longer be permitted at all. (Correction 7 November: An earlier version of this article referred to 'several dozen' ongoing procedures; this was incorrect.)
Slap in the face
The 'adoption fairy tale' has been maintained until recently, because structural abuses (see box above) were ignored for a long time and adopted people did not dare to express criticism, because they 'had to be grateful'. But it is mainly the parents who avoid the conversation, Montoya noticed. He understands that to some extent: "Many adoptive parents believed that they were saving a child. When the child they have given food, shelter and money for years, criticizes them as an adult, they find it absurd, a slap in the face ."
Even his date of birth, May 1, 1979, is not certain
Montoya is such a critical adult. He was three and a half years old when a Dutch family brought him from the Colombian city of Cali to the Netherlands. All he knows about the years in his native country is that he lived in an orphanage. “Everything about me is made up,” the 45-year-old says in an Amsterdam café. “I got my first and last name from one of the sisters, who was called Montoya herself.” Even his date of birth, May 1, 1979, is uncertain. A Dutch doctor determined that by means of bone research, with a margin of uncertainty of three months.
"My birthday is not a holiday, but a day of mourning," Montoya says about this in his solo performance To be of never been , which he created in 2021 at the invitation of production company Likeminds. Mourning is a recurring theme in Montoya's work: mourning of adopted people for a lost past and identity, and the mourning of parents who sometimes gave up their child under duress or false pretenses. But also the mourning of adoptive parents, who were often unable to conceive a child themselves.
In 2023, Montoya made a short monologue (9 minutes) about grief and adoption.
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When Likeminds invited him to make To be of never been , Montoya had a successful career as a coach and theatre maker. Yet he had never considered a long performance about his own story. “I thought no one would understand my story, but it helped that people were sitting in a dark room listening to my experiences for an hour. Not just listening, by the way, but also experiencing. Theatre turned out to be a good crowbar when it comes to entrenched ideas about adoption.”
In the performance, Montoya shares memories of the moment his adoptive father picked him up in Colombia and his arrival in the Netherlands. From day one, adults treated him differently from white children because of his dark skin. After arriving at Schiphol, they wanted to photograph him, pick him up and feel his hair. As a teenager, he was ethnically profiled by police officers and a local newspaper wrote about the football talent of 'the black pearl'.
My father didn't understand why I wanted to look for my biological family
One of the people Montoya managed to reach with his show was his own adoptive father (his mother is no longer alive). Initially, he didn't even want to see the show. "He didn't understand why I wanted to look for my biological family. Only after his new wife had visited a try-out as a kind of scout, did he come to see it. And again. Only then did he dare to ask me on the phone if it had really been that bad, being brought to the Netherlands. Yes, I said, it really was that bad."
Fellow sufferers
Thanks to the show, Montoya met many people in the same situation. Although their stories are diverse, he also hears many 'benchmarks'. "That they came from a warm country to a cold country, and did their best to fit in during their childhood but still fell between the cracks. Many adopted people suffer from loss of identity, attachment issues and behavioral problems. Sometimes I really have to reassure them: adoption disrupted you as a child, it's not strange that you skipped school and started smoking weed. It makes sense ."
Research by Statistics Netherlands (2021) confirms Montoya's impression that childhood problems are more common among adopted people. Although most adopted adults indicate that they had a happy childhood, they say more than twice as often as non-adopted adults that their childhood was not happy. 5 percent even say they had 'not a happy childhood at all', compared to 1 percent of non-adopted adults. Adopted adults also say they are more likely to be lonely or depressed.
The idea that a child in a 'third world country' is worse off than here is already racist
Racism and colonialism
On top of that, there are experiences of racism that many adopted people of color couldn’t talk about with their white parents. “My mother wrote in her diaries that I would face racism in the Netherlands, but she never talked to me about it,” says Montoya. According to him, racism and adoption are intertwined. “The very idea that a child in a ‘third world country’ is by definition worse off than here is racist.”
And colonialist, he continues. “Of course, adopting a child is not directly colonialist, but the ideas behind adoption are. Buying a child had to be justified, for example by telling prospective parents that they would save a child from a future in the drug trade or forced prostitution. It was even good that they took away children's past and gave them a new identity in the rich West.”
'Many adoptive parents have been cheated'
Montoya also emphasizes that adoptive parents are victims of the system. “I was bought as a toddler , but many adoptive parents were cheated . They paid a lot of money for a child, while it sometimes turned out afterwards that the papers were incorrect, for example because the parents were still alive or because it had been stolen. In the eighties there were already signals of such abuses, but they did not win over 'the lobby'. A huge amount of money was made from adoption.”
Need
According to Montoya, the fact that the critical conversation has gained momentum in recent years is thanks to the adopted people themselves. “Nobody could have foreseen that the babies they brought this way would, as adults, piece together the puzzles of their pasts. Some even sued their parents or the State, like Dilani Butink!”
Butink, who was adopted from Sri Lanka in 1992, discovered that her papers were incorrect and in 2018 claimed compensation from the adoption agency and the State. The judge initially ruled against her, later agreed with her, but now the case must be reheard by the Supreme Court. Montoya: “It is tragic that we have to do this work ourselves.”
With Far From Here, adopted people once again took the lead in the conversation about intercountry adoption. Led by the five programme makers, the stories of at least twenty artists and speakers were discussed, each with an adoption history. Everyone who worked behind the scenes also has an adoption history. A logical choice, Montoya thinks. “We feel more than anyone the need for a place where we can finally talk about the colonialism and racism behind adoption at a high level.”
Needle in a haystack
In the spring of 2023, To Be or Never Been was reprised. Night after night, the audience heard Montoya's story, which ends in disappointment. His attempt to find family comes to nothing. What his audience did not know at the time was that Montoya had now made contact with a full Colombian cousin from his birth father's side, who had recently been linked to him via a DNA database. "After every performance, a train with new information was waiting for me on my phone."
'Finding your biological family has many consequences'
During the 2023 revival, Montoya consciously chose not to share his contact with his cousin with his audience. It wasn't all good news. "Finding your biological family has many consequences; the grieving process is actually only just starting." His birth father, for example, turns out to be no longer alive: "He died in the late nineties. Possibly with a secret, because no one knew about my existence. Maybe he himself didn't know that he had fathered a child."
Montoya now wants to talk about his rediscovered family. “I want to show people who are less far along in their journey that the needle in the haystack is not a myth and that it is always useful to reclaim your identity. Because even if you don’t find anything, you tried. It is always worth looking for the truth.”
This interview was previously published on October 25, 2024 on Oneworld.nl.