I've been asked if I am Italian.
I've been asked if I am Mexican.
I've been asked if I am Spanish,
Native American, Greek.

I have never been asked if I am African
Or part African.

And why would I?
I don't look at all African
(with the possible exception of Egyptian.
And I do have 1% DNA from Mali)

And yet this is the lie
I was told when I was young.

My birth father was from Kenya.

This is what the adoption agency told my parents
And what they told me

Since before I can remember

My brother and I always knew
We were adopted

Recently, I've been wondering
If it was an honest mistake
Or an intentional lie

Not that it matters.

My brother is Native American.
That much is true.
Although with his curly hair
In an urban an environment
He is often thought to be African American.

We are a diverse family.

I love my parents
And the first time I heard
The Disposable Heroes of HipHoprisy's
Song - "Socio-Genetic Experiment"
It hit me hard.

I remember waiting for my dad outside a toy store
As a kid. I was probably around nine or ten.
I was hanging out in the parking lot
And talking to some older white guy.

I think he was the parent
Of someone I knew

And he (like so many others)
Wanted to know
"What are you?"
That obnoxious question that I hate.
Worse than, "Are you a boy or a girl?"

But I was a good kid
And I told him what I knew
What I had been told.

He was angry with my response.
I remember that much.
It was confusing - this anger.

Our world is made of lies
Layers and layers of lies

But also nuggets of truth

Buried beneath and between the lies

The truth is that my birth parents
Came from different parts of the world.

I was raised by parents who loved me.

And when Vine Deloria came to my college campus
I went to meet him and say hello from my father.
They had gone to school together in Minnesota.
And when he looked at me and told me
That I didn't look at all like Kelsey,
I laughed and told him I was adopted.