Senior Chloe Kottwitz was adopted from China at the age of two. Around the same time, ten-month-old Abby Puzemis, a current sophomore, also left the country. Both students were raised by white families in the midwestern United States. Yet, as is often true for adoptees, their experiences were distinctly different. Kottwitz and Puzemis currently serve as president and vice-president of Calvin’s Community for Adoptees (CFA), an affinity organization that supports and connects adopted students across campus. CFA hopes to create a space where students can build relational equity, sharing their joys, traumas and every experience in between. 

CFA was established in the fall of 2024, after Kottwitz served as an RA for Calvin’s Entrada Scholars summer program. As part of Entrada, a two-week program where prospective students of color live and study on Calvin’s campus, Kottwitz shared her story of adoption. 

“I don’t think [adopted minorities] are as talked about,” said Kottwitz. While in recent years, society has leaned into embracing diversity, encouraging justice-oriented work, and amplifying minority voices, as an adopted person of color, Kottwitz often felt overlooked in these conversations. “[In forming CFA,] we wanted to make sure that the adoptee-specific problems are put into light, because they get overshadowed a lot of the time.”

Kottwitz is a transracial adoptee, meaning she was adopted into a family with a different racial/ethnic background than her own. For many transracial adoptees, this incongruity presents challenges. Puzemis, also a transracial adoptee, explained that as an Asian girl raised in a white family, she often felt forced to choose a side. “How do I try and be a part of the culture that my family is while also trying to explore the culture that I identify with?” she questioned.

Outside opinions can further complicate identity for transracial adoptees. Puzemis sometimes felt as if she stuck out from the rest of her family. “People notice that sort of thing. It’s not something that you can just brush under the rug and ignore.”

Stacia Hoeksma, social work professor and faculty advisor to CFA, has one explanation why. In the US, she explained, “One of the first things we see about somebody is their race.” Rather than getting to know someone, we often use race to categorize strangers instead.

Yet as much as society might prefer it to be, adopted identity cannot easily be categorized. “For me,” Kottwitz added, “[people say] you’re not white enough, but you’re also not Chinese enough either.” Transracial adoptees occupy a liminal space in between racial stereotypes. “You have people trying to put you in a box, but then you don’t know what box to be put in because no box will accept you,” said Kottwitz.

Historically, West Michigan has a close relationship with adoption. Before coming to Calvin, Hoeksema worked with Bethany Christian Services, a global nonprofit serving families and youth and specializing in adoption support. In Grand Rapids, Bethany is one of many adoption services. “We have a pretty significant infrastructure in West Michigan around child welfare, adoption and foster care,” Hoeksema said.

This infrastructure reflects national trends, especially among Christian families. Studies show that Christians are twice as likely to adopt, and evangelicals five times as likely (Barna). Pair this with several facts, including that transracial adoption has gained momentum in the last several decades and that West Michigan has deeply Christian roots, and you have what Hoeksema calls “an interesting microcosm.” 

Kottwitz thinks that “many Christians feel called to adopt internationally.” Thus, faith-based institutions like Calvin host a relatively concentrated population of adoptees, many of whom are transracial. 

An adoptive mother herself, Hoeksema feels the need to qualify the Christian transracial adoptive experience. Sometimes, she argued, adoptive parents deny their children a fuller cultural experience because of their faith. Take, for example, Genesis 1:27, which reveals that all humans are “made in the image of God.” Sometimes adoptive parents treat this language as a cop-out, a sort of red herring freeing them from cultural competence, Hoeksema explained. “Of course love is important. Of course we’re all children of God. The ground is level with the foot of the cross. But when you don’t acknowledge the fullness of who God has made this adopted person [to be] … those are beautiful ways that God created them.”

So Hoeksema tries her best to connect her African American daughters with their culture. “It’s a lot of work to figure out: ‘how do I help my child have a healthy ethnic or racial identity?’” This, she feels, takes intentionality, but also humility. Hoeksema considered it this way: “As a white mom, I’m never going to be able to completely help my African American girls know what it means to be a black woman in America. I need community to do that.”

As its name suggests, CFA hopes to provide this community for adopted students with a strong empathy towards the transracial experience. For Puzemis, this connection has been “eye-opening.” Calvin was a place where she met people who related to her. “I had never found that previously,” she said.

In some ways, college allows transracial adoptees to break free from the boxes others put them in. “People don’t know your family,” Puzemis explained, “so they don’t have a misconception of you already.” But as Hoeksema also said, “[College] can be a really confusing place of not feeling like you fit anywhere.” Still, she added, it presents “a really incredible opportunity.” Puzemis believes that CFA has leveraged this opportunity. By creating intentional community, “I feel like we made our own box.”

Hoeksema described that, “on the one hand, [college] can be a really confusing place of not feeling like you fit anywhere.” But as Puzemis explained, there can be good in this too: “People don’t know your family, so they don’t have a misconception of you already.” “It presents a really incredible opportunity,” Hoeksema said. Puzemis believes that CFA has leveraged this opportunity; by creating intentional community, “I feel like we made our own box.”

CFA hosts a wide range of activities, including Jeopardy-style trivia, Chick-fil-A (or CFA) runs and Community Conversations, a favorite of Kottwitz and Puzemis. Held biweekly, these moderated discussions explore topics related to the adopted experience. Though the questions they cover can be daunting, Kottwitz has seen them invite students out of their shells. “You would never have known [students] struggle with this kind of stuff and they come and talk about it and it’s just really eye opening.” Hoeksema considers it a “privilege” to hear these stories. “Vulnerability invites vulnerability,” said Puzemis.

In past years, CFA has participated in the Center for Intercultural Student Development (CISD) UNLEARN week with a transracial adoptee panel. Open to the public, this event is a great educational opportunity, especially for those unfamiliar with transracial adoption. 

Looking forward, CFA is planning several educational outreach events for which they hope to invite guest speakers, including professionals specializing in adoption, to Calvin’s campus.

CFA is also exploring outreach opportunities for those surrounding adoptees — siblings, parents and friends — by supplying them with tools to better support their peers and to also understand their own experience. This is reflective of what Hoeksema loves most about CFA: “they really make space for different people to have different stories.”

Above all, CFA’s leadership wants student adoptees to know a place exists for them, no matter what. “Everybody deserves a seat at the table,” said Puzemis. “Your voice and your story is always valid and wanted.”