Our First Conference: Showing Up for Adoptees at ACHA
At the end of May, we attended the American College Health Association conference in New Orleans—our very first time exhibiting on behalf of Adoptee Identity. It was a milestone for us, and in true startup fashion, we poured every ounce of energy into making it meaningful.
In the weeks leading up to the event, we hustled hard. We got our Adoptee Identity Conversation Card decks printed, refreshed the website, and put the final touches on our first workbook—finished just in time to be held in hand by curious visitors. We focused on the products, the colors, the feel of the brand. Our budget was tight, so we leaned into what we had: fair trade organic chocolate from Equal Exchange, adoptee-created coloring pages as thoughtful takeaways, and a delicate orchid we picked up during a post-dinner walk to a local New Orleans grocery store. It was a small but heartfelt collection that reflected us—personal, grounded, and intentional.
Landing in New Orleans, we went straight from the airport to the exhibit hall, carrying all our materials in our own bags. As we walked through the vast space, we passed towering pallets and expansive displays that looked more like Ikea showrooms than health and wellness booths. But we didn’t feel out of place. Our table had a simple elegance that felt right—aligned with our values and our mission.
The exhibit hall opened the next morning at 7am, and we were ready. What we weren’t prepared for was the emotional impact our presence would have.
People were moved to tears at our table.
Adoptees. Adoptive parents. Spouses of adoptees. Siblings of adoptees. Children of adoptees. Counselors, nurses, and doctors serving adoptees. They stopped at our table and stayed. They shared stories. They expressed relief. Over and over, we heard the same thing: “I’ve never seen anything about adoptees here—or anywhere in higher ed.”
We were at a health conference. And yet, adoptees—who make up an estimated 5% of the U.S. population—are often completely overlooked. This, despite the data: adoptees are twice as likely to experience substance use disorders and four times more likely to attempt suicide.
How could this population still be invisible?
Of the 150 or so people we spoke to, nearly 90% had a personal connection to adoption—or were adoptees themselves. The resonance was immediate and powerful. To honor these connections, we invited attendees to take Polaroid photos for a live visual project—a growing wall of people connected to adoptees. On day two, folks returned just to see who had been added. It created a sense of community and visibility right there in the middle of the exhibit floor.
We boarded our plane home tired, inspired, and more convicted than ever: Adoptee Identity is not just an idea. It’s a need. And it’s time.
With leads to follow up on, hearts full, and stories still echoing in our minds, we know this is just the beginning.
Adoptees and their village at ACHA 2025
