Ghosts in the Mirror
My adoptive mother tells me I was precocious enough as a toddler to ask if I came from her belly. She says this was a sign I comprehended my adoption so early she never had to explain it to me.
Themed Months
27 posts
A few times a year, The Rumpus spotlights a specific issue or theme that our editors are passionate about. Some of our past themes include Disability in Education, Adoptee Awareness, and Mental Health Awareness. These efforts are led by an editor who has a personal connection with the issue and is interested in bringing new voices into the conversation.
Debtors to a Mercy We Never Begged For
No, home is not as simple as the heart-shaped sandwiches Ma placed into my lunch bag on Valentine’s Day or the way my father confessed to listening to me sing shower showtunes or washing a car beside my brother as the summer sun beat down.
The Mothership
Most of all, I hoped they’d see how well I turned out and regret ever sending me away.
The Beat Goes On
If the average lifespan is roughly 76 years, then that one muscle, the size of a fist, beats 2,796,192,000 times. It never quits, until it quits.
What She Kept
I hand-wrote my mother a letter entirely in hangul. It looked like a child wrote it, which was because a child wrote it.
What to Read If You Want to Understand Adoptees
I was an adopted only child who taught myself to read at the age of three. Books were my world, my companions and my solace. I gravitated towards stories of…
The Blood of My Mother
For as long as I remember, I have had stories in my head and instead of writing them down, I had imaginary conversations with people.
You’re Not My Birth Mother, But Thanks
But then someone appeared: a woman. Forty-ish. Brown hair. Casual sweater and jeans. An apologetic grimace.
Call for Submissions: November ’23 Adoptee Awareness Month
We’re accepting essays by adoptees from 11/1 through 12/31. Curated by Lauren J. Sharkey, publication in November 2023.
Pecking Order
I didn’t feel guilty, not exactly, but I did feel a twang of remorse as we left her by herself.
Into the Body
These days, I walk down to the river running through the town I’ve made mine. The water’s on the rise.