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View Diary: Adoption Series Part 1 - Bitter Truths (101 comments)

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  •  So much sad truth (2+ / 0-)
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    Ruby Rana, ladijules

    I was born with black hair and what was inexplicably described by the adoption agency that "placed" me as olive skin. Since my adopters had placed an order for a dark-haired, dark-eyed white girl (to match my adoptive mother), they were really, really pissed when all my black hair fell out and was replaced with red.

    They hated my hair. They hated my freckles. They hated the fact that I was tall and lanky and that I loved to read and study. They hated that I loved to draw and paint. They hated that was clumsy and introverted. They hated everything about me that was unlike them. They shared their hate with me at every opportunity.

    My adoptive father beat us (my older, also adopted/not related brother and I) half to death on very nearly a daily basis. We were physically abused, emotionally abused, neglected. I was sexually abused. Of course, from the outside, we were the perfect little nuclear family, and our adopters were saints and saviors for giving those two little unwanted babies a home. Oh, the back-patting. My adoptive mother lived for it.

    I've reunited with my natural mother. She's my adoptive mother's superior in every way. She was healthy, strong, smart, bright, ambitious--but unfortunately, unmarried and severely stigmatized because of it. She relinquished me to the promise that I would have everything she couldn't--at that moment--provide. A beautiful home. Two loving parents. Every advantage and opportunity. A better life. Instead, I was "placed" with two people who weren't fit to raise animals, but who were deemed superior simply because they were married and could write a check with lots of zeros.

    To this day, I'm expected by society to be grateful for this.

    But I'm sorry, no adoptee--not even those who end up with decent, loving people and all the opportunities that are promised--is lucky. No one who starts out losing everything that everyone claims is important--our mothers, our families, our identities, our heritage--can be called lucky.

    "Even if you turn out to be a successful person - and I am - you never, never, EVER get over the fact that the first thing that happened to you, however well-intentioned, was rejection."

    That is the truth.

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