Transracial adoptees are often told to be thankful. In reality, we can often feel like outsiders in our adopted families.

• This is an adapted excerpt from Angela Tucker's new book, "'You Should Be Grateful': Stories of Race, Identity and Transracial Adoption."
• Angela Tucker consulted with the writers of NBC's "This Is Us."

Addy was nine when I first began mentoring her. I was twenty-six. She wrote to me through her parents' email, saying, "I really want to talk to you because you are kinda like me. You are Brown and grew up with white parents. And you were adopted from foster care. I want to know if you can help me find out how much I costed. I've asked my parents, but my parents don't exactly tell me. Do you know how much you costed? Do you think we were the same price?"

Addy and I met at her home on a rainy October day in Seattle. "My favorite animals are the oxpecker and the rhino," Addy began before I'd even sat down. "I love them together because they have a symbiotic relationship. The oxpecker feeds off the rhino's back, eating the little insects that are making the rhino itchy. I love how they help each other, even though they aren't even in the same family and look nothing alike! This is kinda like my family. None of us look like each other, but we still help each other out."

At twenty-six years old, I wasn't accustomed to conversations with nine-year-olds about the correlation between animal symbiosis and adoption, much less while preparing to make friendship bracelets at her kitchen counter.

A metaphor led to an understanding about belonging

Addy's parents had told me that their daughter was viewed as a good student at school but also as a bully. I experienced this shortly after we began our session, when she rolled her eyes at me after I admitted that I didn't know much about oxpeckers or rhinos. She lectured me in an exasperated and condescending tone, before continuing her story, describing the ways in which she is similar to the oxpecker.

"I'm Brown, and I feel like I'm always just picking invisible scabs off my parents," she said. She told me about how oxpeckers are mainly thought of as parasites because they feed on the blood of the rhinos, and when they suck the blood of the rhino, they make new scabs that will get infected with new parasites.

"I feed off my parents. Like, they give me everything I need to stay alive, but it seems like sometimes I also am infecting them with new scabs."

I was admittedly dumbfounded by the impressive analogy. Addy's self-knowledge (and animal knowledge!) impressed me, but I sensed more going on than the matter-of-fact animal kingdom comparison she was sharing. I dug a bit deeper and asked why she'd consider the oxpecker her favorite animal after all she'd told me about how irritating it is to the rhino. "Well, I have to love being adopted, right?" she replied.

I had wondered if Addy had been speaking about a fictionalized oxpecker or herself. My hunch was satiated when she switched to using the word "I." The way Addy was transferring the negative qualities she felt about herself to the animal is called projection. It's a defense mechanism. And one that many adoptees, including myself, can relate to. Sometimes it's easier to talk about non-human objects than about ourselves and our parents.

"Did you know that elephants, waterbucks, and hartebeests do not tolerate oxpeckers?" Addy went on, and I felt certain we were heading toward the heart of her concerns.

"I know that some families would never have adopted me because my skin is too dark." Addy's voice was so soft I had to lean in slightly to hear. "But, I guess being adopted is good, even if it means that I'm kinda like a guest in the family. If the oxpeckers didn't have the rhinoceros, they'd be dead."

The uncertainity of belonging makes adoptees feel like guests in their families

We sat in silence for a moment as we both pondered the weight of what Addy had just shared. When mentoring sessions reach a pinnacle moment, if appropriate, I sometimes interject an opportunity for laughter. So I took this opportunity to have a laugh with Addy.

"I may not know much about oxpeckers, but I do love birds. So I have a question for you: Why didn't the eagles like to talk to the press?" I asked. Addy looked at me quizzically.

"They think they are a bunch of vultures," came the punchline.

Addy wasn't going to give me the pleasure of seeing her belly laugh, but she did give me a fist bump and whispered, "That was pretty good."

Together we placed one brightly colored string over another, braiding our bracelets while sitting in comfortable, shared silence. I allowed my brain to marvel at Addy's deep insight and how she was already hitting on some of the deepest and most difficult issues related to transracial adoptions.

Many adult adoptees barely know how to name the uncertainty of belonging within an adopted family, let alone turning it into a sub-Saharan metaphor. Even in loving families like Addy's, adoptees can sometimes feel like "guests" or "outsiders"; they may feel an ongoing obligation to be constantly grateful to their adoptive parents, and, of particular significance for Addy and me, they may view Black babies as less desirable for adoption than white babies.

Excerpted from "You Should Be Grateful": Stories of Race, Identity, and Transracial Adoption by Angela Tucker (Beacon Press, 2023). Reprinted with permission from Beacon Press.