I hate to burst your bubble but, it’s not a walk in the park. I guess it really depends on who you are and the circumstances that brought you here, to this place, right now, in this moment.
If you have been following my writing, I can triumphantly say “good for you!”…I need more exposure, but most of all, I need more people to know that adoption is seldom the “best” for the child.
To recap-I’m an anomaly. Unexplained, confusing..confused, and I create confusion as I walk this path.
People look at me and wonder, they compliment my English (because, black people are not expected to be articulate…) there must be a reason as to why I am smart, and can speak so well.
I get stares. I was told once by a coworker: “Wow, you hold yourself so well.” Intent vs impact? Intent-to compliment. Impact-total insult. How am I as a black woman, bound for an amazing current and afterlife, supposed to hold myself?
But well-meaning white people often are not capable of understanding that you can be amazing, calm, angry, peaceful, passionate etc and….still…be…BLACK…with little to no hint of colonial rampage.
But oh, must I remind my readers that though I am dark as night, talk as a tree, sharp as a tack, sweet as honey, strict as a line, consistent as a stream, I am also part of the evils of colonialism. Thanks to Haiti’s independence in 1804, I too was somewhat free, until adoption happened…by white folx.
Really, if you think about it, adoption is just another form of colonialism. The idea that some poor black woman, someone on a mountain top, or in a village, does not have the money, education, or strength to raise a little black baby, or 6, but some white family can, is in fact the makings of colonialism and where we now live. America.
In some ways…in others, not so much.
But I digress, and yet, stay “en pointe!”
After the trafficking which resulted in being adopted by two white humans, I grew up emotionally alone and empty. Never did I fit in because as mentioned in previous posts, I was the wrong kind of black.
Never did I fit in because, I was not white.
Never did I fit in because, my hips were not the same size as my A-mother who believed everyone’s body should be like hers, their stomachs the size of hers, and everyone should feel hungry at the time she felt hungry, and eat only as much as her stomach could hold…not a bit more, but less was always encouraged because….
My Haitian growing body was “too fat” in her eyes. She didn’t understand, which is Forgivable. But she didn’t care to understand, which is a Sin.
My thoughts were always more abstract, and the questions about my family were seldom answered. It was as if they thought “well, now she is with us, she will NEVER think of them.”
The majority of adoptees think about their birth families ALL. THE. TIME.
They spend hours daydreaming.
They have so many questions.
They have more questions than answers are available.
So when I met my biological aunt in 2016, I couldn’t believe what was taking place.
My mother had died hoping I would one day be returned to her like an deliverable package.
My aunt was left with my four siblings. So it was interesting to begin the process of becoming part of a different family.
And that they were.
My heart didn’t cry out for them….but I yearned to know them, understand them, have my questions answered by them.
I didn’t know what I was setting myself up for.
Because my intense desire to get to know my birth family died the minute they assumed my life without them was amazing.
“You were given a chance” my sister would say.
Let me tell you what it is like to meet my biological family.
Happiness came and went like a dandelion being blown by the wind. Eventually those seeds would be replanted and a dandelion or weed, would reemerge….same story…different day.
Still waiting for a different story…same day!
I’m still waiting for the happiness to circle back around.
I’m in the “I don’t give a fuck” stage because….I feel nothing at all for them, especially after how my aunt’s son treated me.
I have very little space in my heart for these people who are connected to me by blood.
My sister gave birth to twins and I found out weeks later that she didn’t want me near them.
It’s all so complicated. The family I was supposed to be raised by, didn’t raise me. They wanted to NOW raise me, but i’m grown now. I’m an adult. I’m not the 2 year old anymore that was taken from them.
One of my adoptive sisters once said “Good, you found your family. Are you happy?” What kind of bullshit is that? It’s not that simple. She never lost two people who created her very being. It’s not about “now you found them…” It’s about “I’m sorry you lost them and what can I do to help?”
Reunions are complicated and for those who have had a great one, please continue to spread and share that experience. For those who can relate to this piece, I’m sorry you can relate, and I hope that we can find a way to strengthen each other.
I want adoptees to know that it is YOUR life and no one can tell you how to live it. Biological family members may try and re-parent you and you may want this, but don’t forget that it is YOUR life.
Adoptive parents, please understand that reuniting your adoptees with their birth families is seldom a walk in the part. Think through this and ALWAYS check in with the adoptee to make sure they feel comfortable and they are ready.
Birth parents, stop trying to re-parent your kids who are now adults. I know it is hard because you remember them pre-adoption, but they are grown now. Don’t continue to infantalize them. Empower them to continue to be strong.
Meet them where they are.
Meet us where we are.
Adoptive parents wake up and take responsibility for taking part in the difficulty of reunion.
Birth parents, remember that you too hold responsibility.
Adoptees, remember, you did not choose to be separated, but you can choose If, How, When, Where, and Why you want to reunite.
And remember, just because you found the missing puzzle piece, does not mean that puzzle piece has not been altered….it will take time to fit in….or not.
P.s. I’ve been so impacted by my reunion it has taken me this long to process.