Today I spoke with an adoptee friend who’s family found her, and she asked about the status of my search…

…and I told her how I’ve come to accept that my search is over.

For someone as old as myself, who has exhausted all available avenues, it’s just a cold reality one must accept if one is to move on with their life. I say this even as I continue to advocate for adoptee birth family search, and as I continue to put energy into that advocacy and into the seemingly futile efforts at preserving post adoption birth family search services that are not run by the people that brokered our exportation. I work on the website – yet another registry attempt – knowing full well it is a flash in the pan, a redundant and incomplete effort, unknown to most who need it/could benefit by it. And yet, it is so important.

It’s important because these redundant efforts at connection and finding lost family are all we’ve got.

My hope is that one day, instead of these individual, intermittent lights occasionally breaking through the cloudy night sky, there can instead one day be erected a beacon so bright and known that all know to look for it: a beacon whose light never wavers or burns out, that guides lost wayfarers home. Just as countries sign conventions to preserve records of adoptees with a central authority, we adoptees and our original families searching for each other need a center for our search efforts, and a real commitment to our post adoption needs.

Because whereas it may be too late for my omma and I to reunite, it’s not too late for all the later waves of adoptees sent abroad. The beacon needs to be erected for them, and there’s no time to waste, because ommas get old and die, and so do we.

You know, the world is a f**d up place. The privileged benefit by exercising their imperialist advantage. Families are dysfunctional. Women are abused. Children are the collateral damage. But even in the face of all the factors that separate us, whatever it was that begat us, it still is our truth to own.

I have been known to joke about hating people yet loving humanity. I feel the same way about adoptees. I’m not especially enamored with them, but I love them, my brothers and sisters, for all we have suffered. And though I will continue to try and live a life not dictated by my adoption and jokingly call myself a former adoptee, I will/must continue to work on this beacon. Because it’s about humanity. By erasing our identities, we were stripped of that. And even if I never get my own, by helping others I get closer…

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