Days of My Life

The title says all it needs to say in one word alone.

My thoughts are rather random today as it looks like I will become a weekly poster. And of course, when I logged on I had a lot to say, but now much of it escapes me.

Ahh, here’s one. I was listening to this radio show that I typically like to turn off. But before I flipped it, I caught a snippet of its usual ghetto madness. Instead of discussing some type of aberrant behavior or sex, this particular show was on adoption. I was thoroughly aggravated with the way the host kept addressing the adult adoptees as though they were incest survivors or victims of some horrible event.

“How did you deal with knowing you were adopted?”
I hope the callers were greatful to have had loving homes and families. What exactlly did he think they had to “deal” with? And any caller who did not seem particularly traumatized was not kept on the line long. Dumb.Show. Trying to dramatize an event that isn’t necessarily traumatic is reaching a bit too far. I have a family of adoptees, and there is no distinguishing treatment. We are all just family. No big deal.

Actually, I take that back a bit. For family members who choose to share with their children that a particular cousin or two is adopted, they are sometimes irresponsible in doing so. My mothers has always subscribed to a need to know philosophy of sharing other people’s business. I will admit that some parents have told children who were not mature enough to handle it, resulting in the discomfort of at least one adoptee. The cousin asked the adoptee what she was mixed with because of her long hair. The adoptee was not that pleased that the parent had chosen to share what she felt was a personal detail with her underage child. Asked with a guest around, the adoptee was not that thrilled, but the incident was isolated and one of the only ones of which I know. This particular adoptee had never had anyone in the family ever bring up the subject of her adoption because most of the cousins in her age range either did not know or did not care. This younger cousin probably never should have been privy to the information since it did not directly affect her.

Adoption has been a part of African American culture since slavery even if not under the same name. My great-grandmother took in some of my great-aunts and uncles at birth, and to this day no one know their biological roots. Great-Grandma took that to her grave, and guess what?!! No one really cares. The offspring of those great-aunts and uncles never question their place in the family at all, and to be honest, they all look like everybody else anyway. I can’t speak for all of the adoptees, but I can speak for the family members who love each one regardless of origin.

That dumb show host almost made it sound like adoptees have the cooties. I knew that if
I heard him say, “That’s terrible, can you imagine that?” one more time I was going to jump through the radio and….do SOMETHING!! So, I’m really done ranting for now, except to say that although some adoptees are traumatized by certain elements of their experience, they are not victims just because they are adopted. They are still normal people, and in many cases, you have no way of knowing who in your circle may have been born to parents who do may never know them in their adult lives. I do think, though, that the greatest gift of adoption that any child can experience is knowing that he or she is profoundly loved.

I have plenty of family adoption stories I could share, but I guess I’ll park this car right here for now. Maybe I’ll do a series….

I guess you can tell I plan to adopt.