Adoption vs. Internet Trolls


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For fifty years I’ve never made a secret of the fact that I’m adopted. Not once. Neither did my parents. We didn’t see the point in it. I’ve talked about it here in Ye Olde Blog several times and a while ago I posted regarding the death of my birth mother. Some of you may have missed that post as I didn’t publicize it to FB, Twitter, Google+ and the like as I usually do with most posts. If you missed it and are interested you can still find the link on the sidebar right over there —->

Twenty-two years (eesh) I’ve been on Ye Olde Internet and dealt with my share of trolls. I think I handle them fairly well by now. They may still get under my skin for the first five minutes but then I remind myself that they’re either pathetic or mentally imbalanced in some manner. Mostly I figure they just don’t have anything better to do with their life. I’m known for posting my opinion on news and even ‘news’ sites but, I rarely post an opposing opinion on a friend’s page because I just don’t think it’s worth it. I NEVER go the page(s) of someone I DO NOT KNOW and start ranting and raving. That’s just not cool. Seriously, it isn’t. In fact, it’s a real dick move.

A few days ago, on my personal and ‘fan’ FB pages I posted regarding some knot-head commentator and what he said regarding Simone Biles. His comment on-air…eh….I didn’t care. His comment on Twitter (which has since been deleted) was rude, callous, and malicious. The post in question can be checked out here. I didn’t think much of the post. I didn’t expect it to garner as much visibility as it has on my ‘fan’ page. I received a few understanding comments from thoughtful people. I picked up a confused person, not a troll, but someone who thought this commentator wouldn’t have said what he said if Ms. Biles was white. If he did say it, he wouldn’t have said it with so much venom. That’s bullshit. I reminded this person that there are some things in this world that transcend pigmentation. That was the last I heard from that person.

Long before today, I got all of the standard crap from ignorant people about my ‘real’ parents; who are they, am I going to find them, did I think they were going to come back and ‘claim’ me one day? (Let me tell you, to a small child, that last one is utterly terrifying!) My parents got crap from the same ignorant people about ‘when are you going to have a ‘real’ child’? No joke, I wish it were, believe me, I do. They would say stuff like that right in front of me and MY MOTHER would point to me and say something like: “What? You don’t see her? She’s not ‘real’ enough for you? She’s pretty ‘real’ to me.”

I could make a 7,500 word blog post just on the things that were said to one of the three of us during my childhood from friends, family, near-strangers, and even medical professionals. Most of it’s not pretty. And, yes, in case you couldn’t tell, a lot of that lingering sense of being an outsider of not being ‘real’ of not being ‘good enough’ colors the female characters in some of my books.

I picked up a real troll by the name of Kenneth Perkins who has a closed FB page. Mr. Perkins thought it was entertaining to come on to my page and show his ignorance to the entire world as my page is open. He also thought it was entertaining to insult me, call me a ‘little girl’, and to ‘mention’ my ‘fan’ page in several comments he made on his own page. Of course I can’t see what he said on his page because it’s closed and, to be honest, I don’t care. I just think it’s rude to ‘mention’ people when you know they can’t read the post that they’ve been ‘mentioned’ in. It’s akin to an elementary school child whispering about a classmate on the playground. But, then again, what Mr. Perkins said on my page wasn’t any more intelligent or mature than that anyway. I’m so not kidding there, if you need proof, hit the link and go read.

I have no idea what Mr. Perkins’ major malfunction actually is because I don’t know him…at all. Now, I don’t care to know him or his story. However, by one comment he made I can make an educated guess at it. Still, it doesn’t excuse him or his behavior. I guess, in the end, it astounds me just how much ignorance still remains about adoption and how much stigma is still attached to it, thanks in large part to people like Mr. Perkins. As I tried to tell Mr. Perkins, never once did I run home after school, toss my books down on the table, and say: “Hello, Adoptive Mom! How was your day?” Never once did she say: “Hello, Adopted Child! How was school today?” Nope. Not. Once.

My parents were ‘real’. I am ‘real’. Together we made a ‘real’ family. One formed not by blood but by love, desire, and commitment. There are no qualifiers required for them, they were not my ‘adoptive parents’ they were simply my parents. Just good ol’ Mom and Dad. The only time I’ve ever used a qualifier is for my birth parents, they’re the ones who needed it. Upon being reunited as an adult, I never once called either of them ‘mom’ or ‘dad’, I called them by their first names. Whenever I spoke of them to anyone I called them my ‘birth mother’ and my ‘birth father’. The only one out of that group who didn’t get a qualifier is my brother, who btw, rarely called the woman who gave birth to us ‘mom’ and he wasn’t adopted.

If some people out there can’t comprehend or handle those facts that’s on them. Just like the arrogance and the utter ignorance of Mr. Perkins posted on my ‘fan’ page is on him.

About lbdarling

Beware...the truth is spoken here. If you can't handle that...buh-bye.

Posted on 10/08/2016, in adoption and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 7 Comments.

  1. I have a daughter that We adopted and she is just our daughter. I tell her she was put in a different place for us to find. She is my ready made kit and my others are do it at home kits.

  2. I’ve had people tell me that my sister isn’t my real sister since we have different fathers. The only time I’ve made a distinction was when trying to explain to one of her relatives how I wasn’t related to them at her father’s funeral. Even at that she said “we don’t play that 1/2 shit”. I remember coming home crying in 2nd or 3rd grade because some nitwit teacher told me that she wasn’t really my sister.

  3. I can see the names of his friends and one name stands out. I think I’m connecting the dots. It is their loss.

    • Good lord…tell me I’m not related to this guy. I didn’t even think to check out his friends. Now I’m a little creeped out.

      • Stupid phone wouldn’t let my post when I got the notice of your reply, then I forgot. Did you figure out if the idiot i a relative?

        • “Smart” phones, the joy and the bane of nearly everyone’s existence! LOL. Nope, I didn’t figure out if he’s a relative because I think that even if he was he certainly wouldn’t consider me ‘related’ to him in any manner. That’s a good thing!😛

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