I was adopted from birth. My mother was only 16 when she had me, and her uncle and aunt adopted me. I wasn’t told I was adopted until I was 16. My father told me I was adopted. He was very emotional and was fearful of my reaction. I held his face and told him he’d always be my dad, and he is still my rock and best friend.

When I first found out I was adopted, I was kinda angry at my real mother because I didn’t understand why she had to give me away when she had my brothers, who she didn’t give away. I now have a daughter, and I understand more now that she did it for my own safety. She did not know that my adoptive mother would be abusive. That’s not her fault.

Our family, me and my adoptive family, lived in New Orleans until I was 12, and then we moved to Arkansas, which was hard for us to adjust to, but we loved it when we did. Everyone except my adoptive mother.

She was very cruel to us. She would beat me and not feed me sometimes. She would burn me with cigarettes. She left me on the side of the road once. She would call me ugly and say I’m not worth anything.