The Thing About Being Gay and Adopted
“In moments like this, natural childbirth seems like magic to me.”
In the afterglow of Thanksgiving dinner, everyone’s a little drunk. A few lines of gossip float across the table—something about my cousin, who is having her third kid. My aunt plays a Facebook video of the birth announcement. We see a warmly lit living room, with my cousin on the couch in sweatpants. She hoists her younger daughter onto her lap and tells her, in the calmest voice, that she’s going to be a big sister.
I love you and I support your life choices, but I also want to make sure you keep this thing going.
Does she not want me to comment on how inappropriate this is?Does she not understand what she’s implying?
More in this series
“I hated when attention was brought to my adoptee status. I was American, and that was all I wanted to be.”
Adoption is one of those forks in the road where many of us try to glimpse through the trees to the other path, the other world.