I am gay and adopted. I have always found it easier to tell people that I am gay rather than I am adopted. I am gay is straight forward. I love women. But when i tell people that I am adopted, I see it in their eyes. I see them trying to figure out why my mom gave me away. I never think about it. All I can say is I am fucking awesome and it is her loss.
And then there are the kids. Of course my mother didn't stop at me. There are 7 of us that I am aware of. That is 6 new people I have to come out to. 6 new people I am afraid to meet. I am very self aware. I am not just smart. I am smarter than the average person. Why? I'm adopted. I have been fighting against my genetics my whole life. I have OCD. I follow the rules. I break no laws . . .I am not the one seeking out a litter of adopted kids or foster kids fucked up by the system. I don't know how to relate to them. When I met my older brother with his prison slouch and in-articulation, I just looked at him and looked at him and saw myself in his face and then lost it. It is like everything that i worked for is face to face with me and I refuse to admit it. Am I that? Am I him? I'm not. Then he sends the little ones my way. They are younger. I see what young fucked up kids are like everyday at work. Am I them? Are they me? So one by one, they trickle into my life and I have to say "I am gay". Because I am 36. Because I am proud of who I am. Because I love me. Because I know I was never anything but this nerd, but this loner, but this gay athlete, competitive, driven, introspective, intelligent . . .I can go on. Because I am way past begging for acceptance or forgiveness for my own adoption . . .I say I am gay. I say I am proud and I ask "Now what of it?" And I wait. I wait til these new young doppelgangers fuck up. They do. I wait cause despite our genetics, they know nothing of me. Except that I am gay.
They say it. Those that remember her say it. That I look like our mother. They are a lil afraid of me as I am of them. And I wait until they say something beyond repair. So the one most like me. Sarcastic. Loner. Funny. Says some off handed shit like "oh I tolerate my gay manager." I ask "tolerate? So you tolerate me?" His response, little me. I am literally looking at a younger version of myself. We all look exactly like our mother. Every fucking one. So I look at him and wait til he tells me how he is tolerating me. He says "I'm not judging you" I respond " you aren't in a position to judge me" He says he tolerates the gays you know as long as his kid is a gay girl but if his son was transgender, he would give him, or more aptly her, up for adoption. So I ask, sitting next to one brother I met two weeks ago and one brother I met two hours ago and I ask "are you fucking serious? You think foster care and adoption is a way station for kids you don't consider perfect like you are?" They agreed.
I come out and I wait. I wait for me to catch my breath. I wait to tell these kids they no longer need to tolerate me. I hate my birth mother. I hate her for fucking up these kids. I hate her for being everything that I despise. Her irresponsibility forces me to look in the faces of young kids so ignorant that they can live in a shelter and still judge others. I hate that these kids feel there is a reason to throw a child away. I hate that I came out and waited and has probably decided to cut my losses and forget the Tribe.
