Who Tells Your Story?

“Let me tell you what I wish I’d known, when I was young and dreamed of glory, 

you have no control who lives, who dies, who tells your story.” 

– Lin-Manuel Miranda

 In the final number of the musical “Hamilton,” Hamilton’s wife Eliza sings a song called “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story” where she describes the 50 years the good Lord gave her to tell Alexander’s story.

Alexander Hamilton ran out of time to tell his own story to the world.

I am deeply aware that I could die with my story inside of me and that scares me; however, it doesn’t push me to write my search memoir and publish faster.  I procrastinate.  I ask myself do I have a right to tell this story?

People ask me about this story frequently and I so want to tell it, every detail or it, but it’s just not possible to create a true narrative of my story in just a few minute summary. It just can’t be done and when I attempt it, other people’s narratives move front and center which then takes meaning away from my narrative.

Let me give you an example. 

Anytime I have attempted to tell the story of finding my birth parents outside of the adoption community, I am presented with questions about my adoptive parents’ feelings.  I am also peppered with questions that are really personal that I am just not prepared to answer yet. 

I think that is the crux of the matter.  I want to share my story but I am working through the entitlement process, grieving the losses, the new information, the lies, and my lost cultural heritage. Grief and processing can't be rushed; however, I deeply desire to get this story on paper (or computer screen).

Below, I attempt to share a brief narrative about finding my father via DNA and how my grief affected me. (Go to minute 49 towards the end of this presentation by Indiana Adoptee Network). 

I am a Latino woman who passed as white my entire life. My father is Peruvian – for those unfamiliar, that is a country in South American bordered by Brazil, Ecuador and Bolivia.  

I’m not sure what it means yet to discover this big piece of identity now that half my life is over.  This  piece of my identity has basically been compartmentalized because I don't know where it belongs in the bigger picture of me.  

“Where are you from?” has been a question I get asked frequently, mostly by other Latinos who apparently saw something in me that I never saw in myself.  I get a kick out of answering, "Illinois". 💪

Entitlement gets a bad wrap most of the time when it is used in the context of, “I deserve it!”, but in the case of writing your own narrative and truly taking it back from those who have been telling it for decades, it is a necessary component.  You must believe that you have a right to tell your own story. 💪 

Adoptive parents, birth parents, social workers, media experts, legislators and attorneys, and even society are all more than happy to share their version of your narrative. 

I was recently listening to an audio book in my car called, "Big Magic: Creative Living Beyond Fear" by Elizabeth Gilbert.  It was exactly the kick in the butt I needed to get moving toward taking back my narrative.  My favorite part of the book was learning about "Trickster energy".  Elizabeth writes about it here.

Taking back the narrative has also been called "creative entitlement."   

Adoptees can get frozen in telling their stories, for example, as one reader messaged me today that, people in her family have demanded she continue to maintain secrecy about her existence in her birth family. As my writer friend, Rayne Wolfe, says: "A person is not a secret."

We have spent a lifetime hearing other people’s narratives about our story. 

I will be reminding myself of this on the days I just don’t have the courage to sit in the chair and do the work.💻🪑

💓