The part where you were chosen.
Tony ن‎

Really, Tony? You were chosen? Your adoptive parents wanted you, specifically? And if they hadn’t been able to adopt you, they wouldn’t have adopted at all?

Or did they just want a baby, as in pretty much any baby?

I wasn’t chosen. My adopters put in an order for a healthy white female infant. When I was born, they were at the top of a list of married couples willing to write a fat check for a baby. If they hadn’t adopted me, another couple would have. Hopeful adopters were lined up around the block, desperate for a baby — ANY baby — as they always are.

Furthermore, I was Plan B. As are most of us. I was purchased to fulfill the desire of a woman who had tried and failed to have children of her own; a woman desperate to prove she wasn’t a “failure as a woman and wife.”

That doesn’t make me chosen. It doesn’t make me special. It makes me merchandise.

I’m not going to address all your points, simply because all that adoption industry rhetoric you parrot makes me so very weary. I’d rather enjoy my Sunday.

But as per discrimination: Are you under the impression that non-adopted people must beg, borrow, steal, and fight court battles to gain access to their very own factual, accurate, original legal documents? Because that’s just us. No other class of citizen is denied these documents. Only adoptees. That’s the very definition of discrimination.

You may not care that your legal, official birth certificate contains lies, but loads of us do. Loads of us place importance on our identities, our genetic truth, our heritage, too. If you don’t care, don’t search. I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do. But don’t behave as if what’s (not) important to you should set policy and law.