The Ungrateful Adoptee II

Because, yes, it does need to be addressed again, and this time in more general terms.  ADOPTERS: Listen and listen well, because I have no intention of rewriting this blog again in Positive Adoption Language to suit your tender sensibilities. Firstly, allow me to reiterate a question from the previous incarnation of this blog. How do you expect to raise an adoptee when you can't even talk to one online? Really. Riddle me this, because I want to know. When we're little, it's easier. We don't snap back. We're content with the small proofs of love and permanence. Frankly, it's easier for us to believe and pretend, and that makes it easier for you. It allows you, for a time, to push it out of your mind. The questions are easier to answer. You get to sugar coat and leave things out. You get "Mommy, I love you" and gratitude. You get fits of insecurity, tantrums thrown out of fear or frustration. It happens to disenfranchised little people who have no

I guess on some level I've always been Julie, even when I wasn't called Julie. Before I knew who I was, before I had access to my name and real identity, I was always Julie underneath it all. I was Julie for the first six months of my life, and Julie I remained. But being Julie isn't easy, let me tell you.  The name, the identity, the person I was supposed to be, never fit me. It was like wearing a 1980s Halloween costume; basically a trash bag with a print of Strawberry Shotrcake's dress or a Transformer suit stamped on it, and a horrible, flimsy plastic mask with vacant eyeholes and a thin elastic string that pops you painfully in the ear every time you put it on. Or, my favorite example: as the Countess Bathory was fond of doing to her young female servants, it's very similar to having all your bones broken, being shoved into a box, and being left to heal that way. When she dumps you out, you're cube shaped, you can't move, you can barely talk, and that

My mother. No, I don't mean the woman who raised me. I mean my mother. My REAL mother. Yes, I said it. Gasp and clutch your pearls. I'm sorry to have to be the one to inform you, since it seems so many of you are so confused about it. The woman who carried me to term and gave birth to me is my real mother. She is me and I am of her. I am her mirror image. Her DNA built me and her blood flows in my veins.  I have no illusions about exalting her. I have no self-deception about my feelings for her. I wanted her desperately. I wanted her to be a decent human who would love me.  She wasn't. I mean, I think she loved us in her own twisted way, but she was a fucked up individual. She couldn't really care about anyone but herself, and somewhere along the way someone convinced her (or, more likely, she convinced herself; my bloodline is not easily swayed or coerced,) that adopting out all eight of her children was a better choice for her than being a mother. She seemed t

May 31, 2018 Dismissive tactics are fairly well understood, especially in social justice and debate circles. In the adoption arena, however, these tactics take on a willful blindness and venom which is truly disturbing. Let's explore some of the most commonly used phrases. "Not all adoptions are the same." "What if the mother won't parent?" "Well what do you suggest, then?" "I'm sorry you had a bad experience, but..." Really, I could fill a blog with "phrases commonly used to dismiss anyone who has anything negative to say about adoption" but I won't waste my time or yours reiterating that familiar drivel. We all know the phrases. We've all been told we "just had a bad experience".  We all have experience with those that dismiss because they don't like our tone.Dismiss being the key word. Phrases like "not all...", "what if...", angry, bitter, bad experience, and "can

Or third. Maybe Steerage. I think that's us, cribmates. Steerage. Our quarters in the bowels of the ship, drinking stale water and eating the leftovers of the first class passengers. Guess who's walking on the decks, tasting the fresh air, and eating the hot meals that congeal on our plates?  Let's face it, adoptees are non-persons. Persons have families, legally and morally obligated families. Persons have iron clad identities, protected by law, and the rights to their own identifying documents. Persons have support systems that cannot be withdrawn without consequences. Society accepts and enforces this.  There is no legal or ethical requirement for adopters to provide the kind of lifelong care expected of biological (kept) families. Adopters are allowed (encouraged, in some circles) to rehome, incarcerate, or straight-out abandon "their" adoptees at any time for a wide variety of amoral, albeit socially acceptable, reasons. (RAD, undisclosed health issues,

I've been asked a lot of questions; about my families, my personal story, my relationships, my friendships, et cetera. Since I'm not quote sure what specific information or opinion anyone is looking for, I thought I'd lay the floor open to questions.  Leave your question in the comments section. I'll answer when I can, if I can, if it's appropriate. The Ungrateful Adoptee