dumbstruck with the sweetness of being

i used to say that i never got angry at anything. this is not true.
i am angry for losing a culture.
i am angry that i feel like i have no cultural identity.
i am angry that sometimes i feel like a charity case.
i am angry that sometimes i feel like property.
i am angry that i don’t know my medical records.
i am angry that i don’t know my genealogy.
i am angry that under the law i am a second-class citizen.
i am angry that being black with white parents means that some black people mistrust or hate me when i talk to them, and no one ever explained why to me.
i am angry that i did not get a choice in “selling out my race”, a tough decision even for most adults.
i am angry that i will never feel whole.
i am angry that i had to deal with issues as a child that some adults are never even aware of.
i am angry that i feel ashamed for writing all this.
i am not grateful that i wasn’t aborted.
i am not grateful that i wasn’t raised by a drug addict or a single mother.

i love my adoptive parents but that is irrelevant to the feelings above.