Between Moses and Oedipus Rex…

The only periodical that my adoptive father received was the "Conservative Chronicle," a weekly compendium of articles, penned by a deep roster of conservative columnists and editorial cartoonists. That my adoptive father would use this phrase whenever he talked about politicians is not surprising, but the frequency by which I recall it being brought up led me to think about identity politics in a way that related to my own sense of identity. I started to see that expressing an identity could be a political act. I believe identity is the essence of representation, for example. I struggle to articulate my identity as an adoptee because my experience is Nothing and I speak from Nowhere. Or I did - all adoptees who are searching without answers are de facto voices from the void. I spoke from that place years ago, I sent my howls moonward, seeking others of my ilk. To be from nothing, and named nothing, and then overlayed--this is all dramatic fiction. But it is also how I play my identity politics out--I am a ghost, a mask, a thorn in amidst the "Blessing" that is the "adopted child"--I and all those other bad adoptees are the voice accomplice within a shadow cast by a myth.