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Invisible Boy: A Memoir of Self-Discovery
A narrative that amplifies a voice rarely heard—that of the child at the centre of a transracial adoption—and a searing account of being raised by religious fundamentalists
Harrison Mooney was born to a West African mother and adopted as an infant by a white evangelical family. Growing up as a Black child, Harry’s racial identity is mocked and derided, while at the same time he is made to participate in the fervour of his family’s revivalist church. Confused and crushed by fundamentalist dogma and consistently abused for his colour, Harry must transition from child to young adult while navigating and surviving zealotry, paranoia and prejudice.
After years of internalized anti-Blackness, Harry begins to redefine his terms and reconsider his history. His journey from white cult to Black consciousness culminates in a moving reunion with his biological mother, who waited twenty-five years for the chance to tell her son the truth: she wanted to keep him.
This powerful memoir considers the controversial practice of transracial adoption from the perspective of families that are torn apart and children who are stripped of their culture, all in order to fill evangelical communities’ demand for babies. Throughout this most timely tale of race, religion and displacement, Harrison Mooney’s wry, evocative prose renders his deeply personal tale of identity accessible and light, giving us a Black coming-of-age narrative set in a world with little love for Black children.
Harrison Mooney was born to a West African mother and adopted as an infant by a white evangelical family. Growing up as a Black child, Harry’s racial identity is mocked and derided, while at the same time he is made to participate in the fervour of his family’s revivalist church. Confused and crushed by fundamentalist dogma and consistently abused for his colour, Harry must transition from child to young adult while navigating and surviving zealotry, paranoia and prejudice.
After years of internalized anti-Blackness, Harry begins to redefine his terms and reconsider his history. His journey from white cult to Black consciousness culminates in a moving reunion with his biological mother, who waited twenty-five years for the chance to tell her son the truth: she wanted to keep him.
This powerful memoir considers the controversial practice of transracial adoption from the perspective of families that are torn apart and children who are stripped of their culture, all in order to fill evangelical communities’ demand for babies. Throughout this most timely tale of race, religion and displacement, Harrison Mooney’s wry, evocative prose renders his deeply personal tale of identity accessible and light, giving us a Black coming-of-age narrative set in a world with little love for Black children.
328 pages, Paperback
First published September 20, 2022
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 117 reviews
September 7, 2022
Holy not-so-micro-aggressions. Holy GASLIGHTING. Invisible Boy was incredibly difficult to read without weeping. Every time Harry’s mother or other family members gaslighted him I wanted to scoop him out of the pages of his past and take him far, far away to people who would love him as he is, for who he is, for what he is.
I cry for all the children, teenagers, people who are where he was right now.
For all its pain, I do not regret reading Invisible Boy… because the pain embedded in Harrison Mooney’s past is insidious, latently seething, and all too common still. Decolonization is an eternal task, its end is nowhere in sight. Memoirs and works like Invisible Boy remain relevant and necessary in our collective, societal process towards decolonization. Like Fanon’s Black Skin, White Masks, Mooney’s Invisible Boy is a call to action. It is a reminder that we still need a rebellion of the mind and soul.
Invisible Boy relates the path of Mooney’s awakening to his race and the ways in which racism hides behind a myth of colorlessness. It begins with his childhood and ends in his early adulthood. His memoir exposes to the reader how racism seethes in the most intimate places, in the places it should not exist — in this case, within a family. Families are supposed to be safe. They are supposed to be supportive, loving, nurturing. Invisible Boy tells a sad tale of how racism is the silent reaper within, turning the sanctuary of the family into an emotional, mental prison.
What makes Mooney’s Invisible Boy unique from other works like it (Sam Selvon’s Lonely Londoners, George Lamming’s novels, Franz Fanon’s memoirs and works, James Baldwin’s calls to action, among others) is Mooney’s attention to a community that is little attended to: adoptees of color with white adopted families. As in Mixed-Race Superman, Will Harris’ essay on the transcultural ways of being mixed race, Invisible Boy highlights a different kind of process of decolonization that confronts adoptees of color in white families and white communities that hold onto racist beliefs.
I do not know if I can re-read Invisible Boy for the sake of my own peace as a person of color who has grappled with my own decolonization; but, I am glad I read it at least once and I am privileged to have the ability to choose to only read it once. I am privileged to have been given a rare glimpse into another’s experience of racial awakening. I am privileged that my own decolonization was less traumatic. In truth, Invisible Boy is a book that demands re-reading and reading again. One day I will summon enough courage to read it again.
I cry for all the children, teenagers, people who are where he was right now.
For all its pain, I do not regret reading Invisible Boy… because the pain embedded in Harrison Mooney’s past is insidious, latently seething, and all too common still. Decolonization is an eternal task, its end is nowhere in sight. Memoirs and works like Invisible Boy remain relevant and necessary in our collective, societal process towards decolonization. Like Fanon’s Black Skin, White Masks, Mooney’s Invisible Boy is a call to action. It is a reminder that we still need a rebellion of the mind and soul.
Invisible Boy relates the path of Mooney’s awakening to his race and the ways in which racism hides behind a myth of colorlessness. It begins with his childhood and ends in his early adulthood. His memoir exposes to the reader how racism seethes in the most intimate places, in the places it should not exist — in this case, within a family. Families are supposed to be safe. They are supposed to be supportive, loving, nurturing. Invisible Boy tells a sad tale of how racism is the silent reaper within, turning the sanctuary of the family into an emotional, mental prison.
What makes Mooney’s Invisible Boy unique from other works like it (Sam Selvon’s Lonely Londoners, George Lamming’s novels, Franz Fanon’s memoirs and works, James Baldwin’s calls to action, among others) is Mooney’s attention to a community that is little attended to: adoptees of color with white adopted families. As in Mixed-Race Superman, Will Harris’ essay on the transcultural ways of being mixed race, Invisible Boy highlights a different kind of process of decolonization that confronts adoptees of color in white families and white communities that hold onto racist beliefs.
I do not know if I can re-read Invisible Boy for the sake of my own peace as a person of color who has grappled with my own decolonization; but, I am glad I read it at least once and I am privileged to have the ability to choose to only read it once. I am privileged to have been given a rare glimpse into another’s experience of racial awakening. I am privileged that my own decolonization was less traumatic. In truth, Invisible Boy is a book that demands re-reading and reading again. One day I will summon enough courage to read it again.
November 23, 2022
I want to take this book and place it in the hands of all those who most need to read it. In the hands of a Republican whom I discussed politics with the other day, who stated that they think that ‘people of color are given every opportunity in this country.’ In the hands of the religious who, when confronted with a tough question, retreat into ‘This is what I believe and I don’t need to defend myself.’ In the hands of the friend of a friend who grew up with a silver spoon, but can’t understand the concept of white privilege.
This is a powerful book that explores the theme of belonging through the lens of adoption, race, and religion. But what truly elevated it for me was the author’s confrontation with the realization that the strength of his desire to belong ultimately led to his becoming complicit in his own abuse. In his words, ‘debasing’ himself at times in order to find acceptance. Any acceptance. Its applications here are more specific, but I feel it is a universal theme. Even the abusers in the story, the racists, the religious exclusionists, are lying to themselves to be part of a group. Becoming complicit for fear of losing their own belonging. I have seen it with religious friends who were questioning their faith, but ultimately stopped. Returning to the fold and ceasing to ask questions, for fear of the answers. And the loss of family and friends that such answers would mean. It does not excuse it - no racist should be excused their behavior because they are ‘insecure’ - but it does draw a parallel between all of us and that basic human need of belonging. And it reveals the fatally flawed societal structures that have taken a commonality of the human experience and turned it into something that divides us.
Without the author’s wit, this would be a depressing read. All the more so because the passages that should be the most unbelievable - regarding the absurdities of racism and religion - are instead all-too-believable, as we see the evidence of them all around. Even more important then that a book like this exists. Humanity has an impressive ability to hide from its faults, but denial becomes that much more difficult when the examples of our own behavior are staring right at us from the written page.
It can be disheartening at times, but there is redemption within the novel as the author eventually realizes that belonging and acceptance begin with one’s own self-view, and can only truly arrive when we understand ourselves. It’s a beautifully philosophical note that, while it does not absolve the sins of the world, does meet their gaze and calls them out for what they truly are.
Racism, and the role religion has played in its persistence, will not disappear in the short-term, nor sadly I fear in the long-term. But every book like this that confronts it, and eloquently draws back the curtain on what society has tried to hide, is a hopeful step forward.
This is a powerful book that explores the theme of belonging through the lens of adoption, race, and religion. But what truly elevated it for me was the author’s confrontation with the realization that the strength of his desire to belong ultimately led to his becoming complicit in his own abuse. In his words, ‘debasing’ himself at times in order to find acceptance. Any acceptance. Its applications here are more specific, but I feel it is a universal theme. Even the abusers in the story, the racists, the religious exclusionists, are lying to themselves to be part of a group. Becoming complicit for fear of losing their own belonging. I have seen it with religious friends who were questioning their faith, but ultimately stopped. Returning to the fold and ceasing to ask questions, for fear of the answers. And the loss of family and friends that such answers would mean. It does not excuse it - no racist should be excused their behavior because they are ‘insecure’ - but it does draw a parallel between all of us and that basic human need of belonging. And it reveals the fatally flawed societal structures that have taken a commonality of the human experience and turned it into something that divides us.
Without the author’s wit, this would be a depressing read. All the more so because the passages that should be the most unbelievable - regarding the absurdities of racism and religion - are instead all-too-believable, as we see the evidence of them all around. Even more important then that a book like this exists. Humanity has an impressive ability to hide from its faults, but denial becomes that much more difficult when the examples of our own behavior are staring right at us from the written page.
It can be disheartening at times, but there is redemption within the novel as the author eventually realizes that belonging and acceptance begin with one’s own self-view, and can only truly arrive when we understand ourselves. It’s a beautifully philosophical note that, while it does not absolve the sins of the world, does meet their gaze and calls them out for what they truly are.
Racism, and the role religion has played in its persistence, will not disappear in the short-term, nor sadly I fear in the long-term. But every book like this that confronts it, and eloquently draws back the curtain on what society has tried to hide, is a hopeful step forward.
September 15, 2022
Reading Invisible Boy is like refreshing my memory about the weird pentecostal days I grew up in, even though I'm on a whole different continent with vastly different racial and religious tensions.
The book is Mooney's memoir about growing up black in white fundamentalist Christian churches & schools in Canada, but many of the same pervasive and, honestly, skewed messages that festered in white North American churches in the 90s also made its way over to Malaysia. The roots of what I've seen and experienced as echoes all the way over here are exposed in full technicolour in Mooney's experiences. It doesn't help that Malaysia still, on the whole, idealises and idolises whiteness and white proximity; and that Chinese Malaysians are often just as racist, especially with respect to Indians.
Mooney says in his author's note:
I have seen this reflected elsewhere as well, with an acquaintance emphasising that when engaging, impact should be considered before intent. We live in tumultuous times and I think it's worth the wake up call for those who profess to be Christians to consider the unintentional harm the church has caused many communities in the name of Christ, even if the intentions were good.
After all, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Note: I received a digital ARC of this book from Steerforth Press via Edelweiss. Opinions expressed in this review are completely my own.
The book is Mooney's memoir about growing up black in white fundamentalist Christian churches & schools in Canada, but many of the same pervasive and, honestly, skewed messages that festered in white North American churches in the 90s also made its way over to Malaysia. The roots of what I've seen and experienced as echoes all the way over here are exposed in full technicolour in Mooney's experiences. It doesn't help that Malaysia still, on the whole, idealises and idolises whiteness and white proximity; and that Chinese Malaysians are often just as racist, especially with respect to Indians.
Mooney says in his author's note:
I acknowledge here that what is said is not the same as what is meant. It doesn't matter anyhow. Intent is not impact, and if we continue to prioritize the goodness of our thoughts above the violence of our actions, we will leave a trail of victims in our wake. Mine is a story of impact; I write for the millions impacted in similar ways.
I have seen this reflected elsewhere as well, with an acquaintance emphasising that when engaging, impact should be considered before intent. We live in tumultuous times and I think it's worth the wake up call for those who profess to be Christians to consider the unintentional harm the church has caused many communities in the name of Christ, even if the intentions were good.
After all, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
Note: I received a digital ARC of this book from Steerforth Press via Edelweiss. Opinions expressed in this review are completely my own.
November 23, 2022
As a white person I’m right off the grid of entitlement to write any kind of review of this raw and painful memoir; I’d just been reading about (and horrified by the results of) Jillian Sunderland’s University of Toronto research on internet hate, racism and misogyny when I picked up this book, and had also been doing a bit of reading on Religious Trauma Syndrome. I can only feel myself fortunate that Harrison Mooney has been articulate enough to describe his childhood, teen years, and early 20s in such a manner that I can’t escape seeing through his eyes. He describes his adoptive family, his constricted and demoralizing church-based homeschooling years, and his absolutely normal efforts to grow within his community, where he’s seen as both a visible outsider and a collectible commodity. The more I read about his vicious, vindictive and willfully blind adoptive mother who used the Sharia-like law of weaponized Christianity to beat compliance into her little boy, the more I wanted to reach out and say I’m sorry, Harrison. I’m so sorry. One aspect of the author’s childhood experience I am able to relate to is a deep, scarring burn I can still feel physically.
Lately it was only ever shame. Shame over my trouble fitting in and my bad attitude, shame over acting out, standing out, getting thrown out and often forgotten about; shame over this incident or that; this impulse, that idiosyncrasy; shame at the shame I brought on my family, at the way I dishonoured and disobeyed them, defied their sameness and collective character, and defined them as the family saddled with such a shameful, shame-filled boy...I’m so glad that the writing and publication of this book has been the beginning of a vindication and healing process for the author, and hope to read more of his work in future. I highly recommend this book, and the author who lived and wrote it. Long may you stand and write in safety.
When you are born, you open your eyes, and you take the baton and you run. That’s how I was brought up, and it’s madness. For if you look back far enough, and frankly, not that far, you’ll see that the baton comes from the crime scene, and you’re an accomplice, as well as the victim. The blood on your hands might as well be your own.
...I’ve written this memoir to save us. You believe that these structures are built to support you. You tell yourself you’re living at the top of the pyramid. Get real. A pyramid is nothing but a tomb, triangulated. Don’t run away from me. Stand where I’m standing, and let us look together at the world that buried both of us.
October 10, 2022
An absolutely heartbreaking story of trans-racial adoption, white supremacy, and Christian fundamentalism. This book is necessary reading for all of us as we work on unpacking our own racism and understanding the biases inherent to our identity.
September 30, 2022
Wonderfully written and deeply impactful. Reading this feels like a curtain slowly being peeled back, exposing more of the truth about whiteness and white Christianity.
May 28, 2024
read my friend’s book, it’s worth it ok thanks
October 4, 2022
This was an amazing read! Very beautifully written and a moving and deep story. It was at times hard to read about how mistreated the author was in an ignorant but inexcusable way. I wish there was more in the conclusion, perhaps what happened to the brother or where the author is now. I read the ARC so I didn’t get the acknowledgements or afterword of any kind. This is an important read. I feel as though many people often forget Canada’s history in racist discrimination and oppression. It was interesting to read this author point of view on interracial adoption and the negative drawbacks of religion.. I highly recommend this! Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the free preview in exchange for an honest review
June 16, 2023
Super interesting read. More people doing transracial adoption should read accounts like Mooney’s to make sure they are prepared to account for why they are adopting a child of another race or culture, and whether they have the cultural competence to support their children. I thought Mooney was very generous toward his mother with his plea at the end for all of us to commit to learning and being better people.
January 19, 2023
A must-read for anyone who has, or is considering, adopting a black child. Approach with a softened heart and an open mind. May be of particular interest to anyone who grew up in the Greater Vancouver region. Even this born-and-raised-in-Vancouver, black reader was stunned into new perspectives. Congratulations, Harrison.
May 5, 2023
A powerful reminder for those who are religious, considering adoption, or just straight up interacting with other people of a different background or ethnicity. The hair cutting scene alone made me uncomfortable and has stuck with me, as well as many of the illustrations the author uses to describe his loss of dignity and search for acceptance in an environment that would rather ignore his existence than offer him belonging.
As a Christian I found this book very difficult to get through at times and a really necessary read for someone with my background. I felt a yearning to reach out to the author and give him a hug as a child or even just talk with him as an adult and learn more about his experiences. To apologize to him on behalf of the people and systems that failed him. And selfishly, to show him that the people consumed with their own identity and traditions fall far from the example that Christ sets for us. I figured I would know how this book ends, which was disheartening, but I also felt very moved by the author's raw examples of the racism and bigotry he consciously or unconsciously put up with throughout his life. I also found his relationship with his mother to be particularly heartbreaking. He paints a really clear picture of a mom who is broken, vile and hurting yet he still wants to connect with and be loved by her (as every child strives for). Abusive doesn't come close to describing how it must have felt.
A couple things I would note: I found the end to be rushed. I felt that the first 2/3s of the memoir were slightly-slower paced, but then it really really picks up near the finish line. I also respect his decision to not use quotations throughout, but I did end up having to reread multiple sections as I got confused about who the subject was/who was speaking.
Challenging, but necessary, read.
As a Christian I found this book very difficult to get through at times and a really necessary read for someone with my background. I felt a yearning to reach out to the author and give him a hug as a child or even just talk with him as an adult and learn more about his experiences. To apologize to him on behalf of the people and systems that failed him. And selfishly, to show him that the people consumed with their own identity and traditions fall far from the example that Christ sets for us. I figured I would know how this book ends, which was disheartening, but I also felt very moved by the author's raw examples of the racism and bigotry he consciously or unconsciously put up with throughout his life. I also found his relationship with his mother to be particularly heartbreaking. He paints a really clear picture of a mom who is broken, vile and hurting yet he still wants to connect with and be loved by her (as every child strives for). Abusive doesn't come close to describing how it must have felt.
A couple things I would note: I found the end to be rushed. I felt that the first 2/3s of the memoir were slightly-slower paced, but then it really really picks up near the finish line. I also respect his decision to not use quotations throughout, but I did end up having to reread multiple sections as I got confused about who the subject was/who was speaking.
Challenging, but necessary, read.
February 14, 2023
What an eye opening and thought-provoking memoir. This book challenges your internal racism, views on transracial adoption, religion & spiritual abuse. A must-read.
March 13, 2025
Listened to this on audio and Harrison is a fantastic narrator and storyteller. This is a story of a trans-racial adoption of a black boy into a white Christian fundamentalist family. It was moving, shocking and infuriating - I genuinely had to keep reminding myself that this was set in Canada. As someone who grew up so far-removed from religion and has never been to the interior of BC, it was a good reminder how much communities vary in a country as big as ours. It was hard to listen to the way that Harrison was treated not only in his community, amongst peers and in the world, but by his own family and adoptive mother.
As someone who was also part of a transracial adoption, I can’t imagine the pain of never really feeling like you belong with your family, and then the very conflicting emotions of having your birth parents reach into your life.
As someone who was also part of a transracial adoption, I can’t imagine the pain of never really feeling like you belong with your family, and then the very conflicting emotions of having your birth parents reach into your life.
January 20, 2024
Listened to audiobook read by the author, which was great.
January 3, 2026
« We wonder how white mothers make slaves of their black sons when the summer heat becomes too much to bear. It’s simple though: they’re as brainwashed as anyone. Mindlessly minding their home in a slave state. »
November 4, 2023
One of my top reads of the year! A sad, but beautiful story that hits home.
July 16, 2023
When you finish reading a memoir and you immediately create an epilogue of finding and following the author on social media to see whether/make sure they're okay and moving on. ...
Tbh, i understood a fraction of the religious content of this book, and i learned so much. It was so powerfully written; I'm really looking forward to Mooney's future work!
Favourite quotes:
This was her luxury, and white privilege writ large: the right to live by faith and not by sight. Your victims do not have this option. We know who you are, for we see what you do. Your beliefs are a blindfold. We stare at you wide-eyed in horror.
You know this. You try not to know but you know. Enough about white guilt. It's shame that consumes you, and wherever there is shame, there is denial, and denial becomes delusion in the moment that discomfort is alleviated.
White people are deeply delusional. They don't even know what it means to be white, to be Black, to be mixed, to be anything, really. They don't know they made it all up, just to steal. They have forgotten on purpose - subconscious in one sense, but consciously buried there not long ago. Nowadays, they simply know it's better to be white than not to be, and they know this from looking around, and it makes them afraid, because whiteness is not all that firm.
The rest of us live in your fantasyland, fully fictionalized, fighting every moment to exist in full and, somehow, keep it real. It's impossible: whiteness asked the racialized to move very slowly, with plenty of notice and no real intent. Any guff is an automatic disqualification, and if you touch the sides while extracting what you need to be a person, a little buzzer sounds and then you're gone.
Lily-white spaces are borne of these acts of erasure. Where are the Black faces? All disappeared.
Some things just keep happening. The methods change, the victim stay the same. Time was, you could sell a Black baby right out from his mother's arms. These days, you have to trigger self-surrender, to trap her in oblivion and take the child before she regains consciousness. It was for the best, you say; she was unwed and pregnant, which is proof of her irresponsibility, we haven't stolen anything, we have only intervened on behalf of the infant. You're deluding yourselves. But such is the power and imbalance between us that the white imagination overrides the Black reality, and so it is that white families can abduct Black babies, senselessly, and come away believing they did right by their children.
You call it a kindness. I'd call it kidnapping. What system of help separates a child from his mother? A system with no love for either. Adoption should be a last resort. It is an unthinkable transplant. We do open heart surgery with our eyes closed, pumping the patient with anti-rejection drugs, hoping the host can be fooled.
But the victim remains, threatening your innocence, attesting to the truth of what's been done to us both, for the whole in her heart matches mine, interlocking, and this is why the mothers disappear. Racialization is useful here, and you can racialize anyone, really. The white world is constantly moving the goalposts. Blackness expands and constricts like it's breathing, when really, it's whiteness that breathes down our necks.
Tbh, i understood a fraction of the religious content of this book, and i learned so much. It was so powerfully written; I'm really looking forward to Mooney's future work!
Favourite quotes:
This was her luxury, and white privilege writ large: the right to live by faith and not by sight. Your victims do not have this option. We know who you are, for we see what you do. Your beliefs are a blindfold. We stare at you wide-eyed in horror.
You know this. You try not to know but you know. Enough about white guilt. It's shame that consumes you, and wherever there is shame, there is denial, and denial becomes delusion in the moment that discomfort is alleviated.
White people are deeply delusional. They don't even know what it means to be white, to be Black, to be mixed, to be anything, really. They don't know they made it all up, just to steal. They have forgotten on purpose - subconscious in one sense, but consciously buried there not long ago. Nowadays, they simply know it's better to be white than not to be, and they know this from looking around, and it makes them afraid, because whiteness is not all that firm.
The rest of us live in your fantasyland, fully fictionalized, fighting every moment to exist in full and, somehow, keep it real. It's impossible: whiteness asked the racialized to move very slowly, with plenty of notice and no real intent. Any guff is an automatic disqualification, and if you touch the sides while extracting what you need to be a person, a little buzzer sounds and then you're gone.
Lily-white spaces are borne of these acts of erasure. Where are the Black faces? All disappeared.
Some things just keep happening. The methods change, the victim stay the same. Time was, you could sell a Black baby right out from his mother's arms. These days, you have to trigger self-surrender, to trap her in oblivion and take the child before she regains consciousness. It was for the best, you say; she was unwed and pregnant, which is proof of her irresponsibility, we haven't stolen anything, we have only intervened on behalf of the infant. You're deluding yourselves. But such is the power and imbalance between us that the white imagination overrides the Black reality, and so it is that white families can abduct Black babies, senselessly, and come away believing they did right by their children.
You call it a kindness. I'd call it kidnapping. What system of help separates a child from his mother? A system with no love for either. Adoption should be a last resort. It is an unthinkable transplant. We do open heart surgery with our eyes closed, pumping the patient with anti-rejection drugs, hoping the host can be fooled.
But the victim remains, threatening your innocence, attesting to the truth of what's been done to us both, for the whole in her heart matches mine, interlocking, and this is why the mothers disappear. Racialization is useful here, and you can racialize anyone, really. The white world is constantly moving the goalposts. Blackness expands and constricts like it's breathing, when really, it's whiteness that breathes down our necks.
May 12, 2023
This memoir was really interesting. The story of a black baby adopted by a white family. The birth mother herself was stolen from Ghana, and then her baby taken because she was in foster care. This happened in Abbotsford, British Columbia. He’s two years younger than me, so not that long ago!
The home for teen mothers she was sent to basically coerces the mothers into adoption. A church outreach, talking about how they are growing their sin, by being pregnant out of wedlock. And the way forward for by adopting out the child. At that time, there was a definite rising in white parents adopting black children. They “don’t see colour”. So he was raised white, while his unique needs, and black heritage was ignored. Raised with no other blacks around, raised in evangelical circles where he was taught about generational sins (so he was a broken person who needed to break the generational sins of his unwed mother), that being black was second rate. He never knew how to do his hair. He felt like an imposter everywhere, despite how hard he tried to fit in. His mother prayed the evil spirits out of him, instead of actually looking at what was wrong. Everything was spiritualized. From Mennonite Brethren, to Pentecostal, and revival meetings, extra focus and eyes on him due to his skin colour. From christian school to homeschooled, because his American mother said Canadians were too liberal.
In the end, he was cut off financially, cut off from the family, and blamed for his struggles.
Abandoned twice by a mother: birth mom and adoptive mom.
He eventually reconnected with his birth mom, and they both found healing in hearing each other’s stories.
This book was interesting for many ways. I remember lots of black babies being adopted when I was young. We almost adopted a black baby. If we’re pro-life (at that time) then it was our responsibility to adopt, right? The homeschool curriculum and it’s white christian biases. The over-the-top spiritual warfare and casting of evil spirits (like: the spirit of rebellion! if the child doesn’t do what the parent wants). The family cutting him off when he was changing and trying to communicate it. They’d rather ignore and cut off than face their involvement in the abuse.
Definitely a book I’ll ponder for a while.
The home for teen mothers she was sent to basically coerces the mothers into adoption. A church outreach, talking about how they are growing their sin, by being pregnant out of wedlock. And the way forward for by adopting out the child. At that time, there was a definite rising in white parents adopting black children. They “don’t see colour”. So he was raised white, while his unique needs, and black heritage was ignored. Raised with no other blacks around, raised in evangelical circles where he was taught about generational sins (so he was a broken person who needed to break the generational sins of his unwed mother), that being black was second rate. He never knew how to do his hair. He felt like an imposter everywhere, despite how hard he tried to fit in. His mother prayed the evil spirits out of him, instead of actually looking at what was wrong. Everything was spiritualized. From Mennonite Brethren, to Pentecostal, and revival meetings, extra focus and eyes on him due to his skin colour. From christian school to homeschooled, because his American mother said Canadians were too liberal.
In the end, he was cut off financially, cut off from the family, and blamed for his struggles.
Abandoned twice by a mother: birth mom and adoptive mom.
He eventually reconnected with his birth mom, and they both found healing in hearing each other’s stories.
This book was interesting for many ways. I remember lots of black babies being adopted when I was young. We almost adopted a black baby. If we’re pro-life (at that time) then it was our responsibility to adopt, right? The homeschool curriculum and it’s white christian biases. The over-the-top spiritual warfare and casting of evil spirits (like: the spirit of rebellion! if the child doesn’t do what the parent wants). The family cutting him off when he was changing and trying to communicate it. They’d rather ignore and cut off than face their involvement in the abuse.
Definitely a book I’ll ponder for a while.
March 18, 2023
Just an incredibly story with beautiful prose.
I grew up in a church community in Ontario but moved to Toronto at 18, then to BC at the age of 28, two years ago. Since then I've learned that the institutions of BC have been (and still are) kind of a literal wild west compared to southern Ontario. The cult upbringing described in this memoir is as shocking to me as learning that I was technically alive when residential schools still existed.
I thought that the Vancouver Public Library was being cheeky when I told them that Ralph Ellison's 'Invisible Man' was one of my favourite books and they recommended this to me in my quest to discover BC literature due to the title but the parallels are absolutely there (much like the author finding the parallels in the first reading of James Baldwin).
I'm skeptical of memoirs by people I don't know but I really enjoyed this read because the story and themes were engaging and thought-provoking.
Thanks VPL, as always you're a gem!
I grew up in a church community in Ontario but moved to Toronto at 18, then to BC at the age of 28, two years ago. Since then I've learned that the institutions of BC have been (and still are) kind of a literal wild west compared to southern Ontario. The cult upbringing described in this memoir is as shocking to me as learning that I was technically alive when residential schools still existed.
I thought that the Vancouver Public Library was being cheeky when I told them that Ralph Ellison's 'Invisible Man' was one of my favourite books and they recommended this to me in my quest to discover BC literature due to the title but the parallels are absolutely there (much like the author finding the parallels in the first reading of James Baldwin).
I'm skeptical of memoirs by people I don't know but I really enjoyed this read because the story and themes were engaging and thought-provoking.
Thanks VPL, as always you're a gem!
September 24, 2022
Read this book.
December 31, 2022
Uhm, WOW?!?!?! I don't even know where to begin, 10/10 would recommend
June 19, 2025
“When you adopt me, you adopt my history. And if you refuse, I will never be yours. You cannot take the boy, rejecting blackness.”
I was first interested in this book because as a former Christian, it sounded really interesting to me. I was also interested in the setting of Abbotsford. I didn’t grow up there, but I have family that lives near there and I’ve visited a lot. It was cool to read about a lot of the attractions and places I’ve visited over the years (Castle Fun Park, Seven Oaks Mall, MEI, etc.) He even mentioned my family’s church - Northview Community Church - and yep, can confirm that it’s a rich white church.
What I didn’t expect to get from this book was the dark history lesson on the Fraser Valley. Like that Abbotsford was the home of Canada’s only lynching. Or that Mission (where my family lives) was named such because of the residential school that was located there (which was also the last functioning residential school in BC).
I also didn’t expect such a heartbreaking tale of a white family who adopted a Black child and then completely disregarded the fact that he’s Black (claiming “colourblindness”), constantly gaslit him when he faced racism, yet made him the butt of their jokes (like his brother wearing blackface - encouraged and applied by his mother - when he wanted to dress up as Harrison for Halloween). I listened to this on audiobook (read by the author!) and holy sh*t. The number of times I screamed “WHAT!!!!” while driving because I literally could not believe how his “family” treated him.
I don’t want to write any more because I feel like I’m on the verge of spoilers already, so I will end with this: great book, you should read it.
I was first interested in this book because as a former Christian, it sounded really interesting to me. I was also interested in the setting of Abbotsford. I didn’t grow up there, but I have family that lives near there and I’ve visited a lot. It was cool to read about a lot of the attractions and places I’ve visited over the years (Castle Fun Park, Seven Oaks Mall, MEI, etc.) He even mentioned my family’s church - Northview Community Church - and yep, can confirm that it’s a rich white church.
What I didn’t expect to get from this book was the dark history lesson on the Fraser Valley. Like that Abbotsford was the home of Canada’s only lynching. Or that Mission (where my family lives) was named such because of the residential school that was located there (which was also the last functioning residential school in BC).
I also didn’t expect such a heartbreaking tale of a white family who adopted a Black child and then completely disregarded the fact that he’s Black (claiming “colourblindness”), constantly gaslit him when he faced racism, yet made him the butt of their jokes (like his brother wearing blackface - encouraged and applied by his mother - when he wanted to dress up as Harrison for Halloween). I listened to this on audiobook (read by the author!) and holy sh*t. The number of times I screamed “WHAT!!!!” while driving because I literally could not believe how his “family” treated him.
I don’t want to write any more because I feel like I’m on the verge of spoilers already, so I will end with this: great book, you should read it.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 17, 2025
Golly, Invisible Boy was a tough read. I started it not long after I heard him speak in Vancouver (he’s an excellent speaker) and I had to keep taking breaks. Harrison Mooney wasn’t just subjected to micro-aggressions as the adopted Black son of a white fundamentalist Christian family. Like the time his mother said he was more likely to be captured by the devil because his mother was African (something something biblical story of Ham son of Noah something), or the time his brother decided Harrison could be his slave, or the time another brother dressed up in blackface as him. Those are pretty macro aggressions. The worst is that he was subject to conditional love, essentially disowned by his white adoptive family because he couldn’t fit in. Education (particularly reading James Baldwin and learning about the realities of slavery) helped, as did eventually meeting his birth mother. Abbottsford isn’t going to use this book for its tourism campaign. Occasionally funny, frequently painful, very well written and informative about inter-racial adoption at its worst.
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February 6, 2026"In a roundabout way, my white family created me, for all creation stories begin with separation. They gave me a new name. They gave me a language that limited how I envisioned myself. They told me that I was delivered, not into the arms of a woman who loved me, but out of darkness." (6)
"I wanted to put the past behind me. But until we turn around to face the past, it's still the present, and our future is our history, rebranded." (231)
"Mired in shame and disbelief, I spent the season desperate for a simple look of love."(262)
"My whole identity had been crafted as a response to my mother, just as Blackness is carved out of white expectations." (269)
"The European narrative is narrow, and designed, as James Baldwin put it, to reassure us that no crime was committed." (271)
March 4, 2025
”A lifetime of tolerating bigoted behaviour served as a kind of blackmail. The whole world rests upon your acquiescence, you’ll discover, if you dare attempt to walk a little taller. Even the closest relationships are exposed for what they really are: uneasy alliances, like the one between Atlas and the terrestrial globe, broken just by standing up for yourself. The Titans have turned you to stone, and the planet is perched on your shoulders. Make no sudden movements. Arise, and it all goes to rubble.”
February 11, 2023
3.75 stars tbh. the middle/almost end was really good, and harrison literally made me rethink everything about being black i can’t lie. he was just so real it scared me. the beginning was BORINGGGGGGGG and the end was just so painful to read - like his struggle was so apparent, and the fact that he wrote this book for his mother who literally maltreated him?? what a tale. i liked it yes, but my mind is boggled?? how do i even say this
May 15, 2024
The story of a transracial adoptee who has become an author were two of the reasons I sought out this memoir. The fact that the story took place in Canada intrigued me as a fellow Canadian and adoptee. There is a large theme of faith in this book and while I consider myself spiritual, I choose not follow any formal religion. I found the heavy weight of the religious story line in this book distracting. His writing style is inspiring. I will return to his descriptive passages again and again with the hope of influencing my own writing.
June 1, 2025
4.75 stars
March 24, 2024
This was a powerful and shocking read. Mooney grew up in Abbotsford, and I’ve attended many of the churches he names in his memoir, which gave me a unique proximity to his writing. His experience with adoption and racial abuse (both in his home and in the church) were shocking and horrific.
The religious references in the first half are so heavy-handed that it might be a difficult read for anyone not in that world, but overall I thought it was great.
The religious references in the first half are so heavy-handed that it might be a difficult read for anyone not in that world, but overall I thought it was great.
April 26, 2023
I'd highly recommend to anyone interested in religion, parenting, race, or adoption.
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