My friend and I walk to Starbucks,
two miles away and we are dripping sticky sweat by the time we get there.
We go unnoticed,
laughing, talking loudly, bright colorful clothes.
A few glances.
No one cares.
We order and slurp down our frozen frappes that are cool and melting, flavorful and full of energy.
Not a single person says anything.
Why would they?
We are "normal."
Two white girls with brown and blonde hair pulled back into loose ponytails,
shorts, T-shirts, whatever we found on the floor of our closets that morning.
My sister and I walk to the park,
half a mile away and we look presentable when we get there.
We start attracting attention,
talking quietly, me in jeans and a shirt, her in a rainbow of colors, and
our matching rainbow-checked Vans.
We get glares.
We start chasing each other around and explore the newly placed equipment.
People murmur.
Why would they?
Because we are "different."
Two girls, thought to be friends, but "how that girl is so much older,"
a white older girl, a black younger one.
Four years apart,
we look nothing the same,
but our love is all the stronger.
A young girl runs up, recognizing my sister from school.
They run off playing on the castle equipment.
I sit on the bench while my sister plays and then we walk home.
Later that night, after dinner, after her bedtime,
my sister is crying from upstairs.
Why? You wonder.
Because her friend asked her why she doesn't look like her family.
It's fine if she was just curious,
just oblivious to the adopted community.
She's only seven, so how would she know?
So my sister told her
she was adopted from Rwanda, Africa.
She doesn't know her parents.
Everything.
And her friend thought she was lying,
thought it was a joke, or a prank.
She said adoption was fake, that it only happened in the movies.
Annie was fake, she said.
"My mom told me."
Yeah, well, news flash.
My sister thinks she’s a freak
And you’re not helping.
We love her and you’re harming our relationship.
When I look at her, I don't see color, but you do.
When I look at her, I see the sister I grew up with.
So stop discriminating.
Just be kind.
two miles away and we are dripping sticky sweat by the time we get there.
We go unnoticed,
laughing, talking loudly, bright colorful clothes.
A few glances.
No one cares.
We order and slurp down our frozen frappes that are cool and melting, flavorful and full of energy.
Not a single person says anything.
Why would they?
We are "normal."
Two white girls with brown and blonde hair pulled back into loose ponytails,
shorts, T-shirts, whatever we found on the floor of our closets that morning.
My sister and I walk to the park,
half a mile away and we look presentable when we get there.
We start attracting attention,
talking quietly, me in jeans and a shirt, her in a rainbow of colors, and
our matching rainbow-checked Vans.
We get glares.
We start chasing each other around and explore the newly placed equipment.
People murmur.
Why would they?
Because we are "different."
Two girls, thought to be friends, but "how that girl is so much older,"
a white older girl, a black younger one.
Four years apart,
we look nothing the same,
but our love is all the stronger.
A young girl runs up, recognizing my sister from school.
They run off playing on the castle equipment.
I sit on the bench while my sister plays and then we walk home.
Later that night, after dinner, after her bedtime,
my sister is crying from upstairs.
Why? You wonder.
Because her friend asked her why she doesn't look like her family.
It's fine if she was just curious,
just oblivious to the adopted community.
She's only seven, so how would she know?
So my sister told her
she was adopted from Rwanda, Africa.
She doesn't know her parents.
Everything.
And her friend thought she was lying,
thought it was a joke, or a prank.
She said adoption was fake, that it only happened in the movies.
Annie was fake, she said.
"My mom told me."
Yeah, well, news flash.
My sister thinks she’s a freak
And you’re not helping.
We love her and you’re harming our relationship.
When I look at her, I don't see color, but you do.
When I look at her, I see the sister I grew up with.
So stop discriminating.
Just be kind.
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