More readers respond to this controversial post:

"Unadulterated crap" indeed. This cute video went viral last spring. The family is on a road trip and the little Korean toddler starts wailing because his African-American dad tells him he can't be a "single lady" while his white and South-Asian sisters are singing to Beyonce's "Single Ladies". CBS then interviewed the family and they talked about adopting the kid from South Korea.

They seem pretty alright to me.

Another writes:

The couple waiting to be able to adopt a child whose racial profile matches theirs is waiting for the illusion of control.  I can hardly fault them for it as my partner and I did the same thing.

We read books and attended classes. We spent three hours discussing whether two white woman could ever give a black child what they needed to thrive with my African-American ex-husband.  We studied the complications from drug use during pregnancy and pondered what we would and wouldn't be able to deal with.  We decided to wait for a white infant with no drug exposure. 

When we received the call in the middle of the night, we flew across the country.  We arrived to discover that our adoption facilitator lied to us. (We didn't know it at the time but this happens frequently.)  We found ourselves faced with a two months premature, African-American, jaundiced, drug-addicted baby attached to a frightening array of tubes and wires.  When the social worker, who was waiting to whisk him away into foster care, asked if we wanted him, we said yes.  Without hesitation, without question, just yes.  We made the most momentous decision of our lives on not enough sleep and counter to all our carefully laid plans.  Do I think that the facilitator should have lied to us?  Absolutely not.  Are there challenges stemming from our choice?  Of course.  Do we have any regrets?  None.

You can wait for control of all the details.  That doesn't mean you'll get it.  You might get something better.

We want to hear what you think about this article. Submit a letter to the editor or write to letters@theatlantic.com.