#adoptedandloved

they say blood of ice cold warriors runs in her veins but this blood did not teach kindness, or acceptance

in her home country they burn homosexuals,

she dresses in drag in awe of Sasha Velour (as we all were)

for my mother, and all the ones who chose to stay

by Astrid Saterlie

You didn’t give me life, but you gave me home — and I never needed to know the difference.

You wrapped me in red and black plaid flannel, soft as your voice when the world was too loud, warm as your hands when mine shook with doubt. You taught me that being different wasn’t something to be hidden, but held.

You never asked me to change to fit in — you just made more room for who I was becoming. In a world that tried to sand me down, you stood steady — the anchor, the dam, not to hold me back, but to let me breathe.

When others mocked, you reminded me I was magic. When teachers failed to see me, you saw me anyway. When I turned toward art, you didn’t flinch. You said, “This is where your soul lives. Build something with it.”

And so I did.

Because you never taught me fear. You taught me compassion. Empathy. Books and blank pages. Mr. Rogers and unconditional love. You taught me that home isn’t four walls — it’s a presence. A person. A mother.

You didn’t have to choose me. But you did. And you do. Every day.