When I dare to bravely open my chest of photos, I get sad that there’s this pivotal part of my life that I don’t really have any photos from because I was in The System. I have almost no photos of my life from ages 13 to 18. The photo with this post is one of the few I have and it’s from my high school graduation. I was 17.
I belong to the class of kids who aged out of The System in the 90s–foster homes, group homes, and in some cases no homes. Little to no resources, no family waiting for us with open arms, and no safety net. The world told us to fend for ourselves, and we did just that—many of us before we even hit 18.
I was let go at 17.
The weight of that responsibility hit hard, forcing us to grow up faster than we should have had to.
Many of us didn’t have mentors guiding us through life, no one showing us the ropes. The System was there to watch us age out, but not to catch us when we fell. Yet, we survived. We hustled, we fought, and we learned to be resourceful because we had no other choice. There’s a certain kind of resilience that comes from having no one to fall back on, and that’s what shaped us into the adults we are today. Extremely independent, will walk away before you leave us, and not quick to trust. Sound familiar?
For us Gen Xers who came up through the foster system, the trauma is real, and it’s deep. We’re still untangling it—years later. It wasn’t just what happened in our families that broke us, it was The System itself that added new wounds. The places that were supposed to protect us often did the opposite. Abuse, neglect, constant instability—those things leave marks. We carry the weight of both the families we lost and the trauma we endured within The System that was meant to “save” us. Healing is a journey, and some of us are still on it, still piecing ourselves back together.
Now, we see younger generations of foster kids getting the support we never had, and it’s a beautiful thing. They’re getting guidance, resources, and someone to remind them that they matter. But if you’re like me, you can’t help but wonder what might have become of your own life if you’d had those same opportunities. What could you have achieved if the circumstances had been different. That question lingers.
I want to make one thing clear—I’m not jealous or bitter about younger foster care generations getting more resources and access to help than I had when I aged out of The System. I’m genuinely happy to see them receiving the support we didn’t have, and I want them to thrive. But while we’re focusing on today’s foster youth (which we absolutely should), let’s not forget that those of us who came before them—now adults—are still here, still dealing with the fallout from a broken system. Just because we’re adults now doesn’t mean we don’t need help. We’re navigating issues that stem from trauma and neglect, and those struggles shouldn’t be overlooked simply because we’ve grown older.
I know too many people who came up through The System who are in the situations they are in today because of The System.
That said, don’t get me wrong. There’s pride in what we’ve become, despite it all. We made a way, with nothing but grit and determination. And that’s something no system, no past, can ever take away from us.
