Once upon a time, I like so many people in this World was adopted. There are those, who being convinced that adoption is a happy and wonderful thing would try to convince you that I was lucky to be adopted.

Indeed I was. I was son lucky that at the age of 4 I was sexually molested/ raped. Raped you say? How could such a thing be? I can't tell you why I can only tell you that I was orally raped by an older sibling. Ok, so some may still refuse to call it rape. So I'll concede that being woken in the middle of the night and having a penis put into your mouth couldn't constutute rape. After all adoption is such a happy institution where all the unwanted and abused babies in the World find loving homes and live happily ever after.

Or is it? I will talk no more of penises or the nightmares and daymares caused by such acts. Instead I will talk about how wonderful adoption isand how lucky I was. I was a half black, hispanic, white kid who grew up in a miuddle class white family. Go I was lucky.

I was lucky because for 18 years I got to pretend to be somebody I wasn't. Out of fear of rejection I got to hide my desires to find my family, my real family. I hid them out of the fear of being rejected by the ones who went to court and bought me from the Government Agewncy.

Finally, after having been kicked out of the house because I was old enough to be alone I truly was. That was when I began thew slow process of finding family. After I found my Mom, my real Mom. Those who adopted me began the slow process of uinconsciously forcing me to choose them or my Mom.

Of course I ended up choosing my Mom. Afterall, isn't blood thicker than water? I clearly made the descision by re taking the name that I had been stripped of at birth. That was the moment that freed me of the guilt of being adopted and daring to find family. Now, years later nobody knows my adopted name. That lies in a grave along with the guilt and shame of adoption.

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