Identification is used in every aspect of life. We use identity to travel, make purchases, and many other necessities. Yet, what is an identity? There are moments in life where we ponder on who we socially and personally are. We are given parts of our identity at birth, such as a name, race, and physical features, but does this give us a true understanding of ourselves? Do these factors accurately define who we are destined to be? At age eight, I had thought that my identity was defined by who I looked like and what my name was. The day I was legally adopted changed my perspective entirely. It had been a warm May day, and I was eagerly waiting at my small wooden desk for the clock hands to reach 11:30 am. My mom was planning on picking me up at
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The building looked as though it had come from an ancient Greek city. The circular compositions and the tapered domes created a physical presence of intimidation. We stepped inside, our feet echoing with sharp clicks from the marble floor. We were quickly ushered into a large carpeted room filled with oblong tables and rows of swivel chairs. A woman stood by the head of the table and shook our hands. I was not sure what her name was, but I knew she was important. She had an air of superiority and cloths of a stereotypical businesswoman. She introduced herself with a strong voice as our judge. We took our seats and were passed more court papers.
The judge fiddled with some papers and began by asking me, “Do you willingly wish to change your last name and be adopted by Eric?”
I quickly nodded, watching her scribble notes in the margins of the documents.
After she had finished writing, she questioned, “Do you feel safe in your environment?”
I nodded again and began to feel less nervous about answering the judge’s questions.
There were many more questions that followed. Most were directed to my mom and Eric. After an only few moments, we had
The building looked as though it had come from an ancient Greek city. The circular compositions and the tapered domes created a physical presence of intimidation. We stepped inside, our feet echoing with sharp clicks from the marble floor. We were quickly ushered into a large carpeted room filled with oblong tables and rows of swivel chairs. A woman stood by the head of the table and shook our hands. I was not sure what her name was, but I knew she was important. She had an air of superiority and cloths of a stereotypical businesswoman. She introduced herself with a strong voice as our judge. We took our seats and were passed more court papers.
The judge fiddled with some papers and began by asking me, “Do you willingly wish to change your last name and be adopted by Eric?”
I quickly nodded, watching her scribble notes in the margins of the documents.
After she had finished writing, she questioned, “Do you feel safe in your environment?”
I nodded again and began to feel less nervous about answering the judge’s questions.
There were many more questions that followed. Most were directed to my mom and Eric. After an only few moments, we had