Not Applicable
I've been away from social media for a while now. Even blogging. Last year I took a break from a lot of it. And as 2023 slowly rolled in, I still took my time.
There was just too much going on. Trying to be present and in the moment while still balancing all the emotions.
In 2021, I was working with a lawyer on getting any paperwork via FOIA request from US Custom and Border Protection, and the Department of State. USCIS turned up empty.
On May 4th of this year, after nearly 3 years of when I initially started all this, DOS responded and they had nothing on file for me, aside from one passport application from 2002.
I suddenly found myself in a position where my citizenship status in this country was unknown. I wondered if my adoption was done correctly. And I was even advised not to vote.
Anxiety. Stress. Worry. Would I be deported? Could I be? What about my job? So many unknowns. And anger. All this because what? Two people adopted me and then lied. And proceeded to lie still, and deny me any information.
It's not just that I'm angry about the whole thing. I know I will always be. And I've accepted that. But it's grief.
It's heavy. Constant. Relentless. And feels unresolvable.
It's grief because it encompasses all the emotions that come with loss.
Anger. Sadness. Constant questioning. Just all of it.
Three months later, thankfully my younger sibling was able to send me a photograph of my first and original Indian passport. It not only contained the stamp of the Visa used to remove me from my country of origin into the US, but also an important piece of information that could be used to perform another FOIA request that would greatly assist in finding any paperwork. My A-Number (Alien Registration Number/Alien Number).
The "A" stands for Alien by the way. Alien Registration Number. Alien Number.
As an immigrant I'll always be an Alien. Seems extra fitting just as an adoptee. Because I don't fit in.
With that number, another request was put in on August 15th. And today (9/19/2023), I got all my paperwork. I have information that shows I did arrive in this country with the proper visa and paperwork. And I should be able to get a Certificate of Citizenship.
I feel like now I can share that story. Because I can breathe knowing that I don't have to question my status anymore.
I can share without the worry. A small part of my story, resolved.
And at the same time with all this new paperwork, I still have no information regarding my origins.
There's a sadness because of that.
The hardest part of going through my paperwork, of reading through it was that sadness.
Here in this paperwork tells the story of a baby boy, born and abandoned. Left at an "institution". Was he with his mother? Did his mother hold him? Why did she leave him? Why did no one come find him?
I am that boy. And it's hard to think that this, this is how my life started. Alone. Abandoned.
In one line I'm referred to as an inmate of the institution that I was placed in after I was born.
An inmate.
In another for "Other pertinent facts", someone wrote down "No one has come to claim child."
Unclaimed.
Being adopted is the hardest thing I'm living through. And none of it was my choice.
I may never know where I truly come from. I'm almost 40, and I don't know my mother. My father. My ancestry. My culture. My history. Adoption did that.
And the fact is, I didn't need to be adopted to be taken care of.
No one has to be.
