BY CHLOE STEVENS
To the man with the cowboy boots and greasy hair. I’m genuinely sorry that your ignorant mind trumped your rightful conscience. That you didn’t have a filter on your mouth when you said that rude racist comment. That you felt the need to spit your venom out whenever you wanted to. Clearly you do not understand the true gift of adoption. You are not aware that adoption is a blessing, but comes with many afflictions. So when you said, “why would you buy one here when you can get one at Wal-Mart for $9.99,” to my mom in the airport who was holding my adopted sister, know that to say your words were damaging is an understatement. I’m not here to make you take back what you said, but rather educate you on the beauty adoption entails and the struggles that go with it.
Were you really that blinded by your ignorance that you couldn’t differentiate between a doll and a baby? We, adoptees, are not dolls. We are not tangible items that you can manipulate. We are not inanimate objects able to be bought at the store, attached with a non returnable tag. We are not any different than the next child, we are human too. We have the same capabilities as other kids and deserve the same respect. The only difference between us and non-adoptees is we don’t look like our parents. Is that such a big issue for you that you felt the need to comment on it, as if we already don’t know that we don’t look anything like them?
It baffles me that you would have the audacity to approach a stranger and deliberately suggest that their choice of adopting was wrong. Adopting a child isn’t just a choice that somebody makes out of the blue. It’s a life changing process that holds an ambiguous amount of time. Adoption is one of the best things a parent can do in their life. When a parent adopts they give the child endless opportunities that they wouldn’t have otherwise.
When I was abandoned I most likely wasn’t even a week old. I wasn’t fortunate enough to be placed on the steps of an orphanage or given to a hospital. I was left sitting on the side of a bridge until a policeman found me. I didn’t have a note attached on my clothes that stated my name and birthdate. The fact that nobody knows any information about my birth mom leaves me to believe that I was an accident. I was brought into the world without a purpose, I was born without an identity. My adoption defines me, it gives me my identity. No matter how many times I’m told “your birth mom loved you that’s why she put you up for adoption, because she couldn’t take care of you,” I will never be able to fully believe it. How can I if I wasn’t even loved enough to be given a name? I’m beyond grateful for my adoptive parents who wanted me and love me unconditionally, even if we aren’t biologically related.
I’m completely aware that receiving a myriad of questions and racist comments are a given with my adoption. When I’m out in public with my family I constantly get asked: “are you adopted? Are you biological sisters? Where are you from?” Those questions are fine and are only asked out of curiosity. But, when people like you take it a step further and bluntly ask a vulgar question that is unnerving, that’s where you have crossed the line. Everyday I face long stares that eventually turn into glares. I face judgmental commentaries that mutate into stereotypes. Next time I face jerks like you, I will not give them the satisfaction of responding.
To the man with the cowboy boots and greasy hair. Your insensitive comment complimented your small mind. Your question degraded your mortality, but dignified my self worth. You don’t know what I go through everyday because of my adoption – it isn’t easy to talk about, it isn’t an easy process, it isn’t easy to face.