By Teesta Bhola-Shah
Richard Pearlman does not describe his career as something he carefully mapped out from the beginning. Instead, his path into adoption work began almost by accident. “I inadvertently became involved in the field of adoption in the early 1980s,” he explains, reflecting on a professional journey that spans more than four decades and leaves a lasting mark on the field.
After earning a master’s degree in social work, Pearlman returned from traveling the world and found himself searching for work in Chicago. He answered a newspaper ad for a social work supervisor and stepped into a world he had not originally planned to join. What started as a job quickly became a calling, though not without conflict. Early in his career, he worked for a for-profit adoption network for three and a half years, but over time the ethical differences became impossible to ignore. “I didn’t agree with them philosophically,” he said. He described how the agency “was only working with white kids,” and if a child “was African American or biracial or had medical problems, they just walked away from the situation.” That experience shaped Pearlman’s belief that adoption must be rooted in ethics rather than profit.
That turning point shaped everything that followed. After leaving, Pearlman began building something different. In 1983, he opened what was first called the Family Resource Center in Chicago. The concept was simple but radical for its time. “What we were telling birth mothers was that we would create a resource data bank of waiting, hopeful, adoptive parents,” he explained. If a woman was considering adoption, “she would go through the files and choose the family that they wanted to adopt their child.” Pearlman emphasized, “That was pretty radical at that time. There was very little communication between birth parents and adoptive parents,” and openness was rare. It was a radical shift toward transparency and empowerment during an era when adoption was often closed and secretive.
During those years, the international adoption landscape expanded. “We were taking families to China to adopt children,” Pearlman said. The agency also facilitated adoptions from Vietnam, Guatemala, and Russia. Through a connection with Deborah McFadden, they completed Russian adoptions, including the adoption of Tatiana McFadden, who later became a world famous Paralympian. When the Hague Convention required international adoption agencies to meet new standards, Pearlman’s organization completed the certification process. “We went through this lengthy process and did that, and then we became a Hague-certified agency,” he explained.
His impact extended into policy. At one point, he became involved in drafting what was known as the Adoption Reform Act in Illinois. That legislation required adoption agencies in the state to operate as 501(c)(3) nonprofit organizations, governed by volunteer boards rather than private owners. The reform helped limit profit motives in adoption work and reinforced accountability within the field. It reflected Pearlman’s long-standing belief that adoption should prioritize ethics over income.
Throughout his career, Pearlman has challenged stereotypes about adoption. When he was growing up outside New York, he remembers that “there was always this thought that when a child is adopted, something’s wrong with them.” Decades of professional experience convinced him otherwise. “Families are challenging whether or not adoption is a part of the family,” he says. In his view, adoption does not determine whether relationships succeed or fail. It is one factor among many in the complex dynamics of family life.
After retiring from the Adoption Center of Illinois, Pearlman could have stepped away from the field entirely. Instead, he chose to document it. Recognizing that adoption practices had changed dramatically, he founded the Adoption Chronicles Project to preserve the voices of those who lived through what he calls “the modern era of adoption, which really ran from 1920 to 2020.” As international adoption declined and domestic placements decreased, he felt that an entire chapter of social history was closing.
When asked about the purpose of the project, Pearlman returns to the definition of its name. “A chronicle is a factual or written account of important or historical events in the order of their occurrence,” he says. That definition guides the project’s mission. Rather than promoting a single perspective, Adoption Chronicles collects first-person accounts from adoptees, birth parents, adoptive parents, and professionals.
The stories shared through the project reveal the emotional complexity of adoption. “The stories are complicated,” Pearlman acknowledges. “There’s no easy path here.” Some narratives involve joyful reunions, while others involve rejection or unresolved questions. Pearlman does not attempt to smooth out those contradictions. Instead, he believes that documenting them honestly is the most respectful approach.
His commitment to the project took on added meaning after a major health crisis. About five years ago, Pearlman experienced two brain aneurysms. At one point, it seemed possible that he would be severely disabled. Recovery was uncertain. He credits part of his healing to staying mentally engaged through his work. “Part of my recovery has been working on projects that help me stimulate my brain,” he explains, describing Adoption Chronicles as one such project.
Even now, in his seventies, Pearlman remains forward-thinking. He hopes to publish books that expand on the project’s mission, including one that chronicles his own professional experiences and another that captures the broader history of adoption. He continues to interview individuals connected to the field and to encourage participation from those whose stories have not yet been told.
His guiding philosophy is rooted in openness and dialogue. “People should question absolutely everything and every question deserves an answer,” he says. That belief has shaped both his professional life and his storytelling approach. He does not dismiss difficult questions about adoption. Instead, he invites conversation.
If there is one idea Pearlman hopes people remember, it is that adoption is part of a larger human story. “The experience of adoption touches many, many lives, but it doesn’t determine someone’s outcome,” he says. In other words, adoption influences families, but it does not define them entirely.
Founding an adoption agency, influencing state legislation, navigating international placements, and launching a digital archive, Richard Pearlman’s career reflects persistence and ethics. His work has touched thousands of families directly and continues to reach many more through storytelling.
