Member-only story
How Immersion Into My Own Food Culture Changed Me as an Adoptee
I grew up surrounded by the cuisine of my adoptive family
When I found out I was adopted from Colombia at 19 years old, Italian food was one of the first things I abandoned. I had grown up my entire life surrounded by the smells, tastes, and even restaurants full of Italian food because my adoptive family was from Italy. I was taught to be the perfect little Italian girl who loved pizza and pasta.
And as for Colombian food?
Well, not one bite had been consumed since we had traveled to Colombia to pick up my brother from the orphanage when I was three. It was a trip I didn’t have a memory of except for the photographs my mother showed me long after I found my adoption paperwork tucked away in a dusty desk drawer. I hardly count those meals as culinary experiences.
The first time I had anything resembling a Hispanic meal was at my White friend’s house.
From age three, my mother had unconsciously made the decision to exclude Colombian foods from my upbringing. When I recently asked her why, she said “I don’t know, never thought of it. I always cooked Italian.”
