This is another one of those smack-worthy sayings. It sometimes falls from insensitive people’s mouths when an adoptee talks about their adoptive parents in a less than glowing way. I’ve heard it said to other adoptees. People have said it to me when I’ve described what my father put me through. It’s annoying and shows a mind-blowing amount of ignorance and lack of thought.
The ironic thing is that I and other adoptees have already described how many times we’ve had to tell people, “They are my real parents,” when asked if we know who they are. Personally, I no longer make that distinction as I feel that both sets of my parents are my real parents only in different ways. I will no longer be forced to chose between the two. Some will disagree with me, and that’s fine. I think the way an adoptee choses to personally define his or her familial ties should be up to the adoptee.
Yes, I’m upset with my dad, my dad, not some person. I don’t need someone telling me who my parents are. Duh.