The tattooing was like therapy, a surgery for the soul. (NSFW photos within.)
My Sister Was The Only Person In The World With Her Developmental Disorder And Until She Died, I Defined Myself As Her Caregiver
Kara needed the kind of care an infant requires for her entire life. There were feedings and diaper changes and baths and crying fits. My sister was my pride and joy.
The antiquated legal fiction of closed adoption is still preventing adoptees like me from learning vital information about our backgrounds, histories and genetic risk factors.
By hanging onto queer when what you really mean is “I think Ellen Page has the softest looking hair,” you’re claiming social capital and an identity that isn’t yours to claim.