So very many tears.
Today I called a fellow adoptee. After reading some things she had posted on a social networking site, I had the feeling she might need to talk to someone who could understand her pain.
She answered the phone, and the tears flowed almost immediately. The anguish I had felt in her posts was evident as her voice broke with emotion.
It's so simple, really.
She just wants to know who she is.
But of course, it's not so simple. Not for adoptees. Not when our original birth certificates are sealed and hidden from our own eyes. Not when our own government denies us the most basic of civil and human rights.
The archaic laws designed to hide the stigma of our bastard status bind us unfairly and can inflict a torment no one should be forced to endure. My friend spoke today of a recent conversation she had with a person who has access to some of her paperwork. This person was able to read through her file and see the name of my friend's mother, while at the same time lawfully denying my friend that very information. She spoke through sobs as she shared how awful it was that a stranger could see something so intimate and sacred while she herself cannot. I didn't need to work hard to empathise. I'd had the same experience.
I vividly remember speaking with the woman who was to become my "Confidential Intermediary". I remember trembling, asking her, "Can you see her name"?
I remember the woman's casually cheerful reply. "I'm looking at it right now."
That she was soft spoken didn't matter. Neither did it matter that she seemed genuinely kind and even likable. All that mattered in that moment was that she could see my mother's name, and that I could not. That the law would allow a complete stranger to see something so very personal, so very precious, while denying me that same right was unthinkable.
How utterly wrong. How absolutely perverse.
Yet, the travesty of closed records continues. Legislators refuse to uphold the rights adopted adults to obtain the same documents other citizens are able to access with ease.
There is nothing good in this. This is not equality. This is not justice. This is not love. And despite the fact that a plethora of big-name Christian adoption agencies support the continuation of such laws, this is not in any way a reflection of Christ or his heart for adopted individuals.
It's late, and I'm tired. My heart is heavy not only for my hurting friend, but also for the many adoptees I encounter daily who long simply to know their own origins, if only their government would let them.
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