Words by Grace Jyothi Hullah
As an intercountry adoptee born on the sun-soaked southeastern coast of India, my life took a turn in 1998 when I was brought to Australia by my loving adoptive parents. They gave me a home filled with unconditional love, support, and care—a foundation that has shaped who I am today. Yet, as much as I am grateful for the life I've lived, my journey growing up in Australia was far from easy.
From a young age, I was acutely aware of how different I was. In a community with little to no diversity, I stood out in ways that made me feel isolated. I was the odd one out—the girl with dark skin and thick, curly hair in a sea of fair faces and straight locks. No matter how much love surrounded me at home, I couldn't escape the feeling that I didn't quite belong.
My parents were my greatest supporters. They showered me with affirmations of my beauty and worth every single day. My mother would look at me with her warm smile and tell me how special I was, and my father would echo her words with unwavering conviction. But as a child and teenager, their words felt like they were meant for someone else. Deep down, I didn't believe them.
I vividly remember being 13 years old, sitting across from one of my friends who seemed to embody everything I thought I should be. She had tanned white skin that glowed in the sunlight, long golden hair that cascaded effortlessly down her back, and piercing green eyes that seemed to hold the world's attention. She was everything I wasn't—and everything I wanted to be.
I would glance at my mother, whose alabaster complexion and fiery red hair mirrored those of the rest of my family. She fit seamlessly into the world around us, while I felt like an outsider looking in. Envy gnawed at me as I wished for her features instead of my own. Why couldn't I look like her? Why couldn't I look like everyone else?
I grew to despise the very things that made me unique—my deep brown skin that seemed too dark in every light, my unruly curls that refused to be tamed, and my curvier frame that set me apart from the slender girls around me. These feelings consumed me during my teenage years, leading me down a path of self-erasure as I desperately tried to conform to what society deemed "beautiful."
I remember standing in front of the mirror for hours, straightening my hair until it smelled burnt and brittle under the heat. Every swipe of a skin-lightening cream stung my cheeks but promised to bring me closer to an ideal that felt so unattainable. My makeup became a mask—layers upon layers designed to hide the face staring back at me. But no matter how much effort I put into changing myself, it never felt like enough.
I tried so hard to fit into the mold of an "Australian girl," but it came at the cost of losing myself. Looking back now, it breaks my heart to think about how much pain I carried during those years—how much energy I spent trying to erase parts of myself that were me all along.
When I turned 18, everything began to change. Moving away from home and settling into the city felt like taking a deep breath after years of suffocation. For the first time in my life, I wasn't constantly reminded of how different I was. The city was alive with diversity—people from all walks of life who didn't fit into any one mold. I found myself surrounded by faces that looked like mine, stories that echoed my own, and a sense of community I had never experienced before.
In this new environment, I slowly began to shed the layers of insecurity that had clung to me for so long. I started to see my brown skin as rich and beautiful, my curly hair as a crown of strength and heritage. My curves became a celebration of my femininity rather than a source of shame. It was a gradual process, filled with moments of doubt and backsliding, but each day I grew more comfortable in my own skin.
As I entered my late twenties, I felt a pull to reconnect with my roots. With the unwavering support of my parents and my wonderful partner, I embarked on a journey back to India—back to the village where my life began. The experience was nothing short of transformative. Walking the streets where I might have grown up, breathing in the air thick with spices and history, I felt a profound sense of belonging wash over me.
I volunteered in the community, immersing myself in the culture and traditions that were my birthright. Every question I asked, every story I heard, every face I saw—they all pieced together parts of my identity that had been missing for so long. It wasn't just about discovering my origins; it was about finding another place to call home.
My Indian heritage has led me on a journey of rediscovery, drawing me towards Ayurvedic skincare and holistic living. As I embraced my roots, I found comfort in the ancient wisdom that has nourished Indian skin and bodies for millennia. Ayurveda's holistic approach resonates deeply with me, addressing not just external beauty but inner balance as well with yoga and the power of the mind. The natural ingredients and time-honored practices feel like a connection to my ancestors, a way to honor my cultural identity. This shift towards Ayurvedic skincare isn't just about beauty—it's a path to self-acceptance and harmony. By incorporating these traditional methods into my daily routine, I've found a sense of wholeness that goes beyond skin deep.
This journey of self-discovery and acceptance has been long and often saddening, but it has led me to a place of profound peace and pride in who I am. Today, I wear my Indian heritage like a badge of honor. My curly hair flows freely, no longer constrained by heat and chemicals. I've embraced my natural beauty, often forgoing makeup altogether. The traditional jewelry and clothing I once shied away from now adorn my body with pride, each piece a testament to my journey and my roots.
I look in the mirror now and see a woman who is whole—a beautiful blend of two cultures, two homes, two stories that have woven together to create something unique and precious. The girl who once wished to be someone else has grown into a woman who wouldn't change a thing about herself.
My story is one of transformation, of learning to love the very things I once tried to change. It's a reminder that our differences are not flaws to be corrected but gifts to be cherished. To anyone out there struggling with their identity, feeling out of place or not enough—I see you. Your journey may be difficult, but I promise there's beauty and strength waiting to be discovered within you.
As I continue to grow and evolve, I carry with me the love of my adoptive family, the richness of my Indian heritage, and the strength I've found in embracing all parts of myself. I am no longer just an intercountry adoptee trying to fit in—I am a proud Indian-Australian woman, standing tall in the knowledge that I belong exactly as I am.