Adoption over Time: Change, Policy, and the Complex History

By Teesta Bhola-Shah

For much of the twentieth century, adoption in America followed a familiar pattern. Agencies facilitated placements, birth records were kept private, and contact between biological and adoptive families was rare. Today, that system looks very different. Through decades of firsthand experience, Richard Pearlman has watched adoption evolve from a largely closed process into a far more regulated and complicated landscape.

Pearlman describes what he calls “the modern era of adoption, which really ran from 1920 to 2020.” During that period, adoption became institutionalized in ways it had not been before. Thousands of placements occurred annually, both domestically and internationally. But in recent years, those numbers have declined dramatically. “Where there used to be thousands of adoptions in a year, now there are just hundreds or few,” he explains.

One of the most visible shifts has been the sharp decline in international adoption. According to Pearlman, “virtually all international adoption from Europe is not happening anymore. And adoption from China is not happening anymore. And I don’t think there’s any adoptions from Vietnam.” For decades, countries such as China and Russia were major sources of international placements for American families. Now, those pathways have largely closed due to policy changes, international agreements, and evolving national priorities.

Domestic adoption has also changed. “The biggest change is that fewer and fewer women and men are choosing adoption as a way to plan for a child’s future,” Pearlman says. In earlier decades, social stigma around unmarried pregnancy often pressured women into placing children for adoption. Over time, that stigma has lessened, and more resources exist to support parenting. Courts have also become more cautious about terminating parental rights. “The courts are reluctant to take away parental rights unless the child’s really being abused or neglected,” he explains.

Financial barriers have grown as well. Pearlman notes that adopting a child can now cost “as much as $50,000.” While some adoptions still occur through public agencies, private adoption has become increasingly expensive. The high cost raises questions about access and equity, especially for families who may not have significant financial resources.

Policy reforms have attempted to address some ethical concerns within the system. Early in his career, Pearlman worked for a for-profit adoption network but eventually left because he disagreed with its practices. Later, he became involved in drafting legislation in Illinois that required adoption agencies to operate as nonprofit 501(c)(3) organizations. That shift limited the role of private profit in adoption services and placed agencies under volunteer board governance.

Racism has also shaped adoption practices in ways that are impossible to ignore. Pearlman recalls that the agency he first worked for “was only working with white kids.” If a child “was African American or biracial or had medical problems, he just walked away from the situation.” Those policies reflected broader racial hierarchies embedded in society at the time, where white infants were considered more desirable and easier to place.

Historically, children of color often faced longer waiting periods or were excluded from certain private placements. At the same time, transracial adoption introduced its own complexities. While some families embraced raising children across racial lines, others underestimated the importance of cultural identity and community. Adoption policies did not always account for these factors in meaningful ways.

Public perception reinforced some of these inequities. When Pearlman was growing up, he remembers that “there was always this thought that when a child is adopted, something’s wrong with them.” That stereotype affected adoptees broadly, but racial bias compounded it for children of color. Assumptions about background, genetics, and behavior often shaped how adoptees were viewed in schools and communities.

The evolution of adoption law has attempted to create greater accountability and fairness. The Hague Convention introduced international standards designed to prevent child trafficking and ensure ethical practices across borders. Agencies seeking to facilitate international placements had to become Hague certified, a process Pearlman describes as lengthy but necessary. These reforms aimed to protect children and families from exploitation.

Still, change has not erased complexity. Adoption today exists within a web of legal, social, and economic considerations. DNA testing has added another layer, allowing adoptees to locate biological relatives even when records remain sealed. Some reunions are joyful. Others are painful. “The stories are complicated,” Pearlman says simply. “There’s no easy path here.”

The decrease in adoption numbers has also shifted how the field operates. In Illinois, where hundreds of children once entered the adoption system annually, placements have slowed significantly. Fewer children are being surrendered, and fewer parental rights are being terminated. Pearlman views this cautiously but acknowledges one positive possibility: “Maybe there’s not as much abuse and neglect as there used to be.” If true, that change would represent meaningful social progress.

At the same time, adoption remains intertwined with broader issues of inequality. Access to healthcare, economic stability, racial justice, and reproductive rights all shape whether families choose or are forced into adoption decisions. The system does not exist in isolation from these forces. It reflects them.

Through the Adoption Chronicles project, Pearlman seeks to preserve this history honestly. The goal is not to defend adoption unconditionally nor to condemn it outright. Instead, it is to document how it has functioned across different eras. As he explains, a chronicle is “a factual written account of important or historical events in the order of their occurrence.” Adoption, in this sense, is both personal and historical.

Looking forward, the future of adoption remains uncertain. International pathways continue to close. Domestic placements remain relatively low. Policy debates around family rights and child welfare are ongoing. Yet one constant remains: adoption touches many lives, directly and indirectly.

Pearlman believes that adoption should be understood within a broader definition of family. “When a child is adopted, everyone related to that child becomes part of a larger extended family network,” he says. That expanded network includes biological relatives, adoptive relatives, and often entire communities.

The story of adoption in America is not a straight line from secrecy to openness or from injustice to fairness. It is a story shaped by race, economics, shifting social values, and evolving law. It is, as Pearlman repeatedly emphasizes, complicated.

By examining how policies have changed, how racism has influenced placement practices, and how families have navigated these systems, it becomes clear that adoption reflects the society around it. As that society changes, so too does adoption.

In documenting these transformations, the goal is not only to look backward but to inform future conversations. Adoption has moved through distinct eras, each defined by its own norms and challenges. Understanding that history is essential to shaping a more equitable and transparent future.