How to Piss Off an Ungrateful Bastard

When people hear that you are adopted, they don’t know what to say. Thankfully for them there is a pre-defined list of inanities to blurt out. Here’s my top ten list of things I hate to hear:


The statement: “You’re special. You were chosen”
What I reply: “Uh-huh”
What I’m thinking: Actually no, I wasn’t chosen. My adoptive parents were chosen because they were white and upwardly middle class. They faced a battery of tests and interviews, paid $8,000 in 1963 dollars, and were chosen from a list of likely candidates. I wasn’t the chosen one; I was their luck of the draw.


The statement: “Your birthmother loved you enough to want you to have a better life.”
What I reply: “Uh-huh”
What I’m thinking: That my mother loved me I have no doubt. But give me a break with that better life crap. She had no choice. In 1963 the options for an unmarried pregnant teenaged girl were: a) give the baby up for adoption, b) give the baby up for adoption, c) give the baby up for adoption.


The statement: “I’ve heard people who are adopted have a lot of issues.”
What I reply: Silence
What I’m thinking: Yeah, we have issues with the anger and frustration at the secrecy and lies that surround our beginning. Live with that crazy-maker for a while. And yeah, some of us do have abandonment issues. Walk a mile in our baby booties. But our biggest issue: morons like you.


The statement: “At least you weren’t aborted.”
What I reply: Silence
What I’m thinking: If only you had been.


The statement: “I adopted a homeless pet.”
What I reply: Silence
What I’m thinking: Arf-arf!

The statement: “Why are you trying to invade your birthmother’s life?”
What I reply: “It’s private.”
What I’m thinking: You self-righteous pompous little toad. I’m not trying to invade her life. I’m trying to get my medical history and family background. If my first mother wants to contact me, she can, but I’m not going to pound on her door forcing a reunion. All I want is the same things you have.


The statement: “There is more to being a mother than giving birth. The woman who raised you is your mom”
What I reply: "Uh-huh."
What I’m thinking: Wow! Really? You’re sooooo insightful. The woman who raised me is my Mother. But she can’t give me any of the history that I’m entitled to.


The statement: “You’re so lucky.”
What I reply: “Uh-huh.”
What I’m thinking: I am so lucky that every time I go to the doctor, I get to write UNKNOWN on the medical history section. I am so lucky that I got to have my first mammogram ten years earlier than other women because I don’t have any breast cancer history. I am so lucky I got to have my first colonoscopy ten years earlier too. What fun! I’m so lucky that when people ask me my nationality, I need to decide between saying “I don’t know” or making up something on the spot.

The statement: “The past doesn’t matter.”
What I reply: “Uh-huh”
What I’m thinking: Tell that to my first mother.


The statement: “I’m sure your adopted mother loved you as if you were her own.”
What I reply: “Uh-huh”
What I’m thinking: Go away.

So after all of that, what is the one and only thing I want to hear from someone who isn’t adopted?

The statement: “I have no idea what that must feel like.”
What I reply: Smile
What I’m thinking: I love you