I have put up walls around me. This is how I protect myself from people who could abandon me again.

During the first three years of my life, I lived on the streets with my mother in Colombia. She worked at a tobacco stand, and I would be left by myself. When that was no longer possible, she took me to my aunt. But she could not take care of me either, and she took me to an orphanage.

My mother contacted them, and they made an appointment with child protective services. But when they visited her, she was not there. If she would have been home, I may have never come to the Netherlands. I was 4 and a half years old when I moved in with my adoptive parents and my sister. I remember how homesick I was and how cold it was. I had to sit in a child seat in the car, which

I did not like. There were presents, and people who hugged me. That is all I remember. Later, people would sometimes say that my sister looked so much like my mother. I would be standing right next to her. She is light, I am dark. I wanted to know who my mother is, and if I look like her. I know her name, but my adoptive mother does not allow me to look for her yet. She thinks I am not ready on an emotional level. I do not feel sad about the adoption; it is more that I have that question in my head: “why did you let me go?”

I DO NOT LET PEOPLE INTO MY WORLD

 
When I was almost eight years old, my parents forced me to go into therapy. I really rebelled against that. I even almost jumped out of a driving car, very dangerous. Beforehand, I said that I found it horrible and that it would not help. And it did not. Because I did not want to. And if I do not want to do something, I will not do it. I do not like talking to people about the adoption. Even with friends.

Before, at the orphanage, they used to call me ‘the queen’, because I used to be so pushy if I did not have things my way. It is my way of getting things done. I also push boundaries. If someone says ‘no’, I will do it anyway. I often argue with my mother. Screaming and slamming doors, things like that. I know exactly how to hurt her. It is difficult to talk with her. I only see my father every now and then. They got divorced three years ago. My sister was upset about it, I almost instantly accepted it. It is what it is, right? What is the point of lingering on it?

In primary school, I had to switch to special education. I just cannot do maths. And maths is needed for almost everything. I am now getting vocational training. I would like to be an afro hair stylist. When I finish school, I want to leave the Achterhoek. I want to live by myself, somewhere in a hot country.

I do not let people into my world. When I was younger, I already did not want people to help me, even my parents. I did not want them to touch me. When drying myself off after a shower, for example. I was perfectly capable of doing that myself, right? I was four years old already, and I had always done that myself? I do not trust other people. I cannot get attached to people. I do not feel much about that either. It is what it is. I rather observe from a distance.

Tekst: Kim van Schie  Fotografie: Ton Sondag