As an adoptee, my concept of family has always been different than most people’s. I grew up knowing that I legally belonged to my (adoptive) parents, but I wasn’t related to them—biologically.
My parents had several close friends whom I loved dearly. I addressed them as “Aunt” and “Uncle.” My mother taught me to do this but stressed that they weren’t my real aunts and uncles. The real ones were her and my father’s siblings. This distinction did not matter to me because I knew that I wasn’t related to the real ones, either.
I thought of my father’s father as my grandpa because he spent time with me and accepted me as his granddaughter. On the other hand, my father’s mother died years before I was born. Still, my father referred to her as my grandma. This made me angry. I felt it was a denial on his part that I had a history before I was adopted. I thought she was no more my grandma than any stranger on the street.
My parents drew a sharp distinction between “us” and “them.” “Us” being my father, mother, and me. “Them” being everyone else. However, I thought of “them” as my big human family. I felt that I belonged to “them” as much as I did to my adopted family.