It has always bothered me when people call me an African queen or a descendant of Kings and Queens of Africa. It bothers me for three main reasons:
My Big Sister
After finding my birth father's family I found out that he had a daughter before me. This meant that I had another sister that I had never met and did not even know of my existence! On May 11th I began looking for her. After searching all social media and coming up with nothing I created a post that I hoped would go viral and eventually get to her.
"Hello Facebook Friends and Family. I really need your help! I seriously need this post to go viral. As many of you know thanks to DNA testing, I found my birth father and his family. When I was conceived, he had a ten year old daughter named Phyllis Smith. She was born in SF in 1965. Her last known address is in Oakland. I do not know the exact address. My father's family has not been able to locate her for many years. My sister is out there, I just know it. I need to find her so we can meet for the very first time. She does not even know I exist. Please share this because somebody has to know who and where she is. She should be 54 years old. She might be married. Please share and tell everyone you know to share also.
With much love and gratitude Thank you in advance".
Literally a few hours later someone said that they knew her! I then added an update to my post, "Update: I FOUND MY SISTER! I am so happy right now! I am so happy to have a chance to get to know her.
Thank you so much to everybody that shared my post. It is because of y'all that I found her".
I can hardly believe that it has been a year already since finding her.
When what you need does not exsist, create it.
I have been in therapy for years seeking healing for the trauma caused by my adoption experience. Maybe 2 years ago I began participating in a BIPOC adoptee support group. The group is great. There just were not many same race Black adoptees in the group. So I am in the process of starting a group with another same race Black adoptee that we will co-facilitate. Please do reach out if you are interested.
I found him!
On May 10th, 2019 I found my birth father. I was determined to find him dead or alive. My whole life I was given different stories about him. I did not know what to believe. I was so tired of wondering and not knowing. Because of having an adopted father I wondered about my birth father but my wondering was fleeting. After the death of my adopted father the fleeting wondering became much more intense and constant.
Through DNA testing I found my birth father and his family. He is deceased. I will never speak to him, hug him, or hold his hand but I am so happy to know his name, have his picture, and be able to talk to his sister (my aunt) about him. I am so happy!
All people come from 2 parents and not knowing caused me to question my very humanity. I often believed I came from the same egg as Mork on the 80's sitcome Mork and Mindy. I have always known my birth mother and not being able to get a clear answer from her about my birth father had always been sadening, angering and disappointing. Before I took the DNA test I told her I what I had planned to do. I told her "I will find him, dead or alive"! She did not seem to be upset by this and when I told her I had found his family she seemed happy that I was happy.
Now that I am slowly trying to get to know birth father (through stories from his family) I feel a sense of wholeness and completeness I have never felt before.