The Ungrateful Adoptee II

National Adoption Awareness  Month. Not National Adoption Month, the month to venerate adoption and lift up adopters, relinquishers, and agencies. No. It is National Adoption AWARENESS Month, the month for you to be aware of what adoption means, what it entails, how it feels, and what you've actually done if you've participated in it. Adoptees are taking the month that should have been ours to begin with. So buckle up. It's about to get real in adoptionland.  A National Celebration of Adoption is Offensive  By doing so, you are spitting in the face of every person who suffered under an inappropriate adoption, and I daresay that's a silent majority. Most of us don't talk about the suffering inflicted on us by being adopted because  of the way you spit on us.  You gaslight us by claiming our "bad experience" has "poisoned [our] perspective", because you "know someone who's adopted,  and they're just fine". Or you ...

When I was in the fifth grade, we got the dreaded Family Tree project in social studies. We were to learn about our ancestors and how they contributed to who we were. The importance of our lineage and its impact on our lives.  I remember raising my hand and saying, "But, Mrs. _____, I'm adopted. I don't know my family history." "Just use the family you have," she replied, dismissing my question with a wave of her hand. "That will be good enough." It didn't feel "good enough", but I bit my tongue and took the two huge pieces of paper with a picture of a giant tree on them. The trees had at least ten generations' worth of empty spaces in the branches for parents and grandparents. "One for rough draft, one for final," she instructed while my face felt dull and hot. "I challenge you to go as far back as you can. This is always a fun assignment." It felt like she was taking pot shots at me at that point.  I ...

So, for whatever reason, you relinquished your kid. Now it's been 35 years, and you just got that letter in the mail I don't know how you feel. I've heard hundreds of different accounts. I won't pretend I can or want to understand the place in which you find yourself. Nonetheless, here you are, with a letter from the child[adult] you relinquished in your hand. Do the right thing for that adult. Answer the letter. Answer their questions. Don't lie.  Don't equivocate or play the victim,  even if you were. Tell the truth. Give them their medical history and the names of all their relatives. Be a human. Don't be nasty because you don't want them in your life. You have a moral obligation to maintain an open line of communication to answer the questions that continue to come up for years afterward. You don't have to be their mom. They are adults, and presumably they have a mom,  or some semblance thereof. You don't HAVE to have contact,  either, ...

As in: I owe other adoptees nothing. I have been under the mistaken impression since I arrived in adoptionland that I "owed" it to other adoptees to share my story, voice my experience, and spread my ideas. Because so many of us "don't have a voice". Because so many of us are so painfully aware of the iniquities and ineptitudes of adoption. However, those who are aware already know, and those in the fog don't want to. And after months of being shut down and arguing semantics with petty, small adoptees who are just trying to avoid the larger message, I've come to a conclusion. Forget you guys. You want to live in the fog? Go ahead. You want to perpetuate problematic ideas and stereotypes about adoption? Go ahead. I can't stop you. You won't even listen to me. You're too busy with #notall and tone policing deflection when you hear something you disagree with. You want to point out how I don't speak for all adoptees. Well,  Fucking Duh...