Through the Fog: Queer Transracial Adoptees Talk Somatics
Through the Fog: Queer Transracial Adoptees Talk Somatics
A chat with Kellan Bacon, BSc, PGCert, IPHM, of Kai Ming Holistics
Hi friends! I’m Logan (they/them) and I help people integrate complex identities with daily life to reclaim their sense of agency through mindfulness, play, and compassionate support.
I’m excited to share this interview with
, BSc, PGCert, IPHM (they/them) of Kai Ming Holistics. As a holistic practitioner and queer, transracial1 adoptee, Kellan brings a unique perspective to breathwork, somatic awareness, and the intersections of lived identity.Below are highlights from our extended conversation, linked at the bottom. Responses have been modified slightly for clarity and reading ease.
Kellan’s Adoption Story
Since childhood, many adoptees have had (often well-intentioned) others speak on their behalf. As many adult adoptees will agree, allowing us to tell our own stories with the flexibility to update and revise, is most empowering.
L: To whatever degree feels comfortable for you, would you mind sharing your adoption story?
Kellan:
I was adopted from China by two white British parents2 when I was eight months old.
My adoptive parents had been trying for 18 years before they adopted me, so it was very much through infertility that I ended up being their child.
I don't have a lot of information regarding my relinquishment.3 It was in 1998, so before records officially began in China.
I didn’t particularly have much to go off in terms of searching, and growing up—I often felt like I needed to find [my parents] to complete me, and there was a lot of repressed grief and anger I felt around this not knowing, and particularly (I'm going to assume) the mum, but birthing parent.
It still can sometimes be hard to reckon with that. I went through phases of wanting to search for them and then being angry at China in general for their one child policy and their human rights [violations] and not wanting anything to do with them.
I did 23AndMe when I was 20…21-ish. I went in being like, “Oh, it's just to know where I'm from,” but, deep down, I wanted to find genetic connections. I was holding out hope for that.
We don't always talk enough [about] those genetic tests. There can be a lot of fallout from getting our hopes up. It really crushed me when I didn't find anything closer than a third cousin.
My whole life I'd gone with the dominant narrative around adoption: we are “saved” and need to be grateful. I was trying to be the perfect child for my parents and all of this stuff that we typically associate with being an adult.
After this, I had a mental health crisis. That's when I started coming out of the fog4 around adoption, questioning its ethics, and its roots, and the colonialism side that goes into the billion dollar industry that it is.
From there, I've been connecting with adoptees online ever since, whether that's just friendships or through Instagram. I've got a trans adoptee group where we can connect over our common intersections.
I briefly touch upon adoptee DNA searching in my piece on Self-Compassion for Adoptees. The absence of birth records or biological ties complicates adoptees' sense of belonging. “Grafted” onto a family tree in this age of Ancestry.com, our sense of “rootlessness” leads many to grapple with identity and continuity.
Kellan’s reflections point to how relinquishment and early childhood patterns impact self-regulation and shape identity in adulthood, influencing both body and mind.
Adoptee Somatics
Adoptees experience a unique kind of somatic awareness rooted in early-life separations, leaving an imprint that shapes self-regulation and relational dynamics until consciously interfaced. Our bodies remember, but we cannot cognize or narrativize the grief, as our brains were not yet fully developed.
When combined with other factors—such as unsupportive foster or adoptive homes, disability, or queerness—navigating life can feel deeply exhausting. Before taking things like disability or queerness into consideration, adoptees have over 8x the likelihood of taking their own life over a non-adopted person.
L: What is adoptee somatics to you? [What does it mean to FEEL adopted, in your opinion?]
Kellan:
I've definitely noticed big common themes, and when we're talking about somatics we're basically working with the body “neck up.”
We're intellectualizing and cognizing, but somatics is the neck down. A lot of adoptees have, myself included, big wounds around not feeling good enough, like it was our fault we were relinquished, feeling so much tension and contraction in the body around perceived threat of rejection.
We see this popping up in our lives, in terms of being afraid to have relationships, that’s avoidant attachment.
Or, on the other side, some people get very anxiously attached, so they'll cling on, and then some people are a mixture, all over the place.
This “mixture” is also known as “disorganized” attachment, where our relinquishment trauma makes self-trust difficult, impacting how we relate to…well, everything. Disorganized attachment is incredibly common for adoptees and is not itself pathological. It is a symptom of a deep wounding that can be interfaced through self-compassion, mindfulness, and other therapeutic/clinical tools.
This video by adoptee wellness researcher and psychotherapist Lara Leon provides an accessible primer.
Kellan continues:
Our bodies seem to know where we're from. We can feel something isn't quite right. So there's this dissonance, and we've shoved these parts of ourselves very deep down to survive, because we had to assimilate to this adoptive family that we're now in, and cope in our modern day society, and then we had GCSEs and A Levels and jobs and stuff to occupy our space and energy.
[This creates] a massive disconnect. That can show up as not being able to feel out what our boundaries are. Not really having a strong sense of who we are and what we want, and this massive people pleasing aspect of fawning and caretaking [while] wanting to be rescued.
I realized when I was coming out of the fog there's not a single facet of my life that hasn't been deeply impacted by being adopted. And that's a lot to process.
With adoptees, there's this strong need to start working with the nervous system. The nervous system, to put it simply, it's a bit of a mess.
The nervous system really has two main needs: safety and connection. And as adoptees, we didn't get those things when we most needed them when we were infants.
So whatever is happening to us is personal. We can’t regulate ourselves [as infants]. We were completely dependent on our caregivers. And so at that crucial time in our life, the really formative years, we were stripped of connection and safety.
Adoptee Coping Mechanisms
With no stable support system, relinquished people begin life in a state of hypervigilant distress. This dysregulation often persists into adulthood, affecting our capacity for self-regulation and safety.
Kellan describes how adoptees often experience somatic patterns rooted in a deep sense of early loss and disconnection.
A lot of adoptees have big coping mechanisms. They can look like, in internal family systems talk, the managing types that try and keep us from being triggered in the first place, like overworking, perfectionism.
To the more serious side of things—perhaps, not more “serious,” but more imminent, where you've been triggered and the “firefighter” parts of us commit addictions of harm and different eating disorders. The list is endless: it will look like different things to different people.
My work with adoptees and people in general is starting to resource the parts of us that didn't feel safe in the past and allowing the nervous system to get back into that safety. That's where our healing really takes place: the state where we feel safe to let go.
They call it “yield” in neurocellular patterns and, sometimes, even that is enough. I've had quite a few adoptees that will be like, “I don't know why I'm already crying,” but it's their bodies have never been in that yield before. And the body's so wise, it starts processing it once we get into that yield.
Sometimes the best thing we can give people as coaches and healers and practitioners, is not what we know. It's allowing people to hold that space for themselves, where they can heal in the way the body wants to.
Full audio and transcript (please excuse my exuberance…it’s yet rare for me to chat with another queer, transracial, adoptee working in the wellness space!):
It was a pleasure to chat with Kellan about their experiences as a queer, transracial adoptee. Navigating complex identities can feel both isolating and overwhelming. But it’s through shared stories, supportive spaces, and gentle practices that we find our way back to ourselves and to each other.
If this piece resonated with you, I’d love to hear what stood out! Do these reflections mirror your own experiences? Share in the comments below or continue the conversation at an upcoming event.
Takeaway Practices
In my practice, I guide mentees toward self-compassion and a discipline of lovingkindness, mirroring Kellan’s concept of creating embodied safety. More on this in my next post on skillful energy and effort.
But for now, if you catch yourself feeling overwhelmed, try putting your hand on your heart, closing your eyes, and breathing. Give yourself the time and space you need. Hold yourself until ready. You are more important than that feeling of urgency.
Reacting out of overwhelm happens. This is when self-forgiveness, ultimately a form of metta, is a useful practice.
If you’re looking to explore how your own identity complexities shape your daily life and want a space to integrate these experiences, I’d be happy to connect. Leave a comment, respond to this email, write Logan@lighthiveintegration.org, or stay after one of the Light Hive events to chat. Speaking of….
A couple reminders:
Creative Coalition: October 6
The Creative Coalition offers space to stretch creative muscles, engage in mindful speech, work with inner critics, and practice mutual appreciation.
From 4:30-6 PST, I’ll be facilitating Takuma Okada’s Alone in the Ancient City. After a short sit, participants will alternate between creating, sharing, appreciating each other’s imaginations. Here’s the sign-up link!
Adoptee Alchemy: October 20
Adoptee Alchemy is an adoptee-only space that meets for 75 minutes once a month from 4-5:15 PST to meditate and discuss adoption-related themes.
After I lead a ~25-minute meditation, we’ll chat about whatever is arising. If you’re craving a space to connect with other adoptees, I’d love for you to join us. Here’s the sign-up link!
Bio
Logan Juliano, PhD (they/them) is a mindfulness mentor offering 1:1 sessions and group workshops for those working at the intersections of identity, play, and compassionate engagement. They currently teach at the University of California, Los Angeles and hold an PhD in Performance Studies.
“Transracial” means someone of a different sociopolitical, historical racial category as their adoptive parents. This difference creates a unique set of challenges and dynamics, as transracial adoptees navigate both the culture and identity of their adoptive family and their own racial or ethnic appearance. In the recording, I cast this as a plurality, a multiplicity of racial identification. Rather than “becoming” a member of another racial affiliation, transracial adoptees often negotiate multiple identities at once, sometimes without guiding context or support from adoptive parents.
Kellan is based in Wales.
“Relinquished” refers to a child separated from their birth parents. This may occur under complex circumstances, including economic hardship, social pressure, or systemic coercion. Not all relinquished people are adopted; some may remain in institutional care or foster systems.
“Coming out of the fog” refers to the challenging process of awakening to the complexities, traumas, and realities of how relinquishment (and adoption) have impacted our lives. It often involves deconstructing the dominant narratives around adoption—such as that of being “saved” or needing to feel grateful (e.g. “Do you want to be sent back?”)—and recognizing the minimized or suppressed losses, grief, and disconnection sometimes perpetuated by the people we are meant to call family.
It was SUCH a pleasure and honour talking to you Logan!!!