One way to really piss me off is to talk about my family. My family means everything to me–more than my friends, more than my job, more than anything I own–because I know that they will always be there while other things will fade away. And when adoption gets brought into any conversation I respect people’s opinions. My brother was adopted and I want to adopt some day. But when ignorant people can say to me with a straight face “I wouldn’t adopt because then the kid isn’t really yours. Like your brother, he’s not your real brother….” then we have a problem.
My brother is MY BROTHER. He was an addition to my family eight years ago and I would feel exactly the same about him if he were biologically related to me. I love him no less than my sisters or my parents who, by the way, are biologically related to me. When I talk about him I don’t talk about “my adopted brother.” When I think about him I don’t think about “that kid my parents took in.” He is as close to me as if we were blood-related, and the way I see it we pretty much are.
So don’t you dare tell me who is considered my family.