Beth: Chapter 2
Untitled
Digital illustration
Laura Ts’ao
By Xavier (they/them)
Adoptee, 27
Nanchang Project Volunteer
From Unknown, Jiangxi; Living in Lekwungen and WSANEC Territory, Victoria, B.C., Canada
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This story is deeply personal. It is a reflection of my journey—painful, messy, and sometimes raw, yet slightly fictionalized. All names have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved with one exception: the titular character who is referred to by my original adoption name. I have chosen to share this story because I believe in the power of truth to heal and connect us and because I wish to illustrate the reality of growing up in a difficult adoptive home.
You may encounter moments of grief, trauma, and abuse within these pages. For some, these moments may be difficult to read. Please know that I include trigger warnings where appropriate, and I encourage you to take care of yourself as you engage with this story– if you so choose.
While my experiences have shaped much of my life, this is also a story of survival, resilience, and the ongoing journey toward wholeness. It is meant to offer solidarity and hope to those who may feel isolated or broken in their experiences as adoptees.
You are not alone.
If you or someone you know needs support, please consider reaching out to a trusted friend, counselor, or helpline. I have included links below and will continue to with each chapter as they are released.
Thank you for reading and holding space for this story.
With gratitude,
Xavier Huang
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Beth: A Love Story
Chapter 2
When she gets home, the house is dark and the only light flickers from the TV where Eric, her adoptive father, watches MSNBC in the living room. Chris Hayes is reporting on the state of the Republican Party - ‘Bad as always, and Romney is certainly a crook!’ - and Eric’s chin is dipped towards his chest as he nods along. Beth drops her backpack at the door, slips out of her loafers, and makes her way to the long white sofa.
She does this often, almost every night. When she comes through the door, she greets the home to little or no response, and then she joins Eric in the living room where he watches the evening news.
Chris Hayes has now moved to the election lead up and some more grave wrongs the Republicans have committed. Eric shakes his head and mutters under his breath.
Chris Hayes is handsome with wide spectacles and a square jaw. At school Beth coyly calls him her celebrity crush because he is a political commentator, and she thinks it makes her sound mature to say so. She thinks to herself, 'other people like actors, I like intelligence’– or something like that. She loves the confidence he uses when he speaks, as if he has never once wondered if he was worthless, as if it is easy to believe in his own rightness, that he deserves to take up the space he occupies. Truthfully, she likes Chris Hayes because Eric respects him and his opinions. She likes him and in that same moment wishes she could be him.
‘I don’t know why they want someone like Romney’ she says in an attempt to seem connected to Eric’s interests– worldly even.
‘You don’t know anything,’ he says with a scowl. Eric is in a good mood tonight, but even so his annoyance with Beth cuts like a knife. She perches on the sofa, knees bouncing anxiously, and offers the occasional comment still hoping to connect.
Eric sighs. ‘Can you piss off’ he says, and Beth laughs a high, fake, choking noise as if it is a joke. She knows it is not a joke. Eric says this to her most nights when she lingers trying to talk to him. Everyone in her family treats her like an annoyance, like they wish she would just disappear and leave them alone. And one day she suspects she will, and the family will become happier, rejoicing and uniting with ease knowing she is gone. Somehow, she feels that the tension in the house is her fault. She knows she is needy, but she does not know how to be loved except to force herself on those around her until they cannot deny that she exists.
Beth stands slowly. She does not say anything else, just looks sheepishly at Eric as she grabs her bag. She hopes he will tell her he is joking, that he will ask her to stay and talk to him about politics and life or anything at all.
But Eric is silent. His eyes are glued to the television, the blues and reds bathing his wrinkled face in an otherworldly glow.
Upstairs, Beth drops her bag in her bedroom and changes out of her uniform. She leaves her kilt bunched on the floor, merely stepping out of it and walking away. As she begins to unpack her old, brown backpack, the loneliness strikes again, her chest hollowing out as if there is nothing there, just air flowing through her and around her. She wonders if she even exists, or if she is part of a science fiction experiment gone wrong. In her mind she imagines herself as an alien, or just a head without a body. She wishes she were a single-celled organism like the ones she has learned about in biology class. So small and simple, they do not even know they are alive. They eat, they excrete, and then they do it again the next day. She longs for the oblivion of being so small and simple, unaware of anything but the drive for food and the need to create excrement. But she is a person, and she is painfully aware of the pounding of her heart and the blood rushing through her veins. Beth slips into pyjamas and decides to head back downstairs in search of more company.
To access licensed US mental health professionals who identify as adoptees and work with adoptees/adoptive families visit growbeyondwords.com/adoptee-therapist-directory.
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Untitled
Digital illustration
Laura Ts’aoRendered in moody blues and muted tones, Laura Ts’ao’s composition is shaped by negative space and shadow. Two figures sit at opposite ends of a couch, their separation amplified by posture, light, and framing. The television’s glow isolates rather than connects, casting a cold wash over the scene. Text quietly embedded—“You don’t know anything”—reinforces the emotional fracture. Ts’ao’s controlled use of color and contrast builds an atmosphere of restraint, where silence holds its own sharpness.
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Laura Ts'ao (she/her) is an adoptee, artist, and art director from Jiujiang, China raised in Colorado Springs and now located in Austin, Texas. Ts’ao has spent years unpacking the emotional layers of adoption and reconnecting with her heritage on her own terms, building a cultural identity that honors where she comes from and reflects who she has grown into. Connect with Laura on Instagram @laura.tsao.
Laura is the artist and illustrator of Book 1, Chapters 1 and 2 of Beth. To learn more about Laura and the other artists of Beth, read about them here!
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Xavier (they/them) is an adoptee from Jiangxi who now lives on the unceded territory of the lək̓ʷəŋən and W̱SÁNEĆ nations (colonially known as Victoria, B.C., Canada). X is a prolific writer and enjoys creative non-fiction, fantasy, and fiction writing. Through their work they explore their identity as an adoptee, parse their lived experience, and explore what it means to be human. They joined the Nanchang Project in 2023 and cherish the community they have discovered amongst the volunteers and adoptee community generally.
The views expressed in blog posts reflect those of the authors and do not necessarily represent the shared views of The Nanchang Project as a whole.
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