We need to talk about it: share your story, your questions, and your thoughts. Raise awareness. Spread knowledge. And maybe, just maybe, one day we can see a change.
My real parents are the ones who fed me a warm meal, who tucked me in at night, who brought me to dance class.
When that happens, when all the trees come together, it paints the most beautiful of forests, planted in unity and colored in hues of depth and understanding.
The telling of a story and being able to fully own it are separate, and bridging that gap can be difficult.
Somehow I was supposed to fit into this web of cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents that had already been well woven.