Foster Children, what’s the most insane thing you ever experienced?

Kicked Out and Left Behind

My foster parents kicked me out on my 18th birthday without reason. They came crawling back years later with a disturbing explanation as to why they did it.

On the morning of my 18th birthday, I was aggressively awoken by my foster dad. Before my eyes were even fully open, he started yelling at me to get the F out of the house.

He literally kicked me out of bed. As I left the room, I was met with my foster mother staring daggers at me. She repeated what he said. Since I had nowhere to go, I pleaded with them to let me stay. In a moment of anger, I asked if they were kicking me out because I was black and they were white.

My foster dad replied that it’s not it but if that’s what you really think then maybe our friends were right about you. You know we never loved you and never saw you as our own. We don’t want anything to do with you so get out.

I left the house then and there. I ended up at a park bench, just sitting there trying to figure out what to do next. I had a few bucks in my pocket and a backpack with some clothes, but no real plan.

The sun was starting to rise when I finally decided to call my best friend, Tyler. Tyler answered on the second ring.

He asked why I called him because it was 700 in the morning. (His voice was groggy.)

I told him flat out that they had kicked me out. Tyler was still out of it.

He asked who.

I told him my foster parents. I told him exactly what they said. There was a long pause on the other end.

Then Tyler said meet me at the diner in 20. We’ll figure this out. (His voice was more alert now.)

I dragged myself to the diner. Tyler was already there waiting in our usual booth. As soon as he saw me, he stood up and gave me a hug.

Man, I’m so sorry that’s messed up. (he told me as he embraced me.)

We ordered some breakfast, and as we ate, I told him everything. I detailed the sly comments they would make when I was a kid and how they would act whenever company came over. Tyler listened.

One day when I was playing with my cousins, one of the cousins asked me why I looked different from the rest of them. The adults didn’t say much but “be nice”.

They still taunted me when we were teenagers. The cousins hung out together all the time, but they never invited me with them. When I asked them why they didn’t invite me, they would tell me it was because they didn’t know that I wanted to come or make up another excuse. They had a pretty close friend group.

I wouldn’t have paid much mind to it if we didn’t go to the same school, but we did. It hurt seeing them all eat lunch together without me. My parents never stepped in and said anything to them about all the years they excluded me.

Now they were planning to go to the same college together, and I thought my parents would put me through that college as well. But here we are.

After I finished, he sighed heavily. Tyler told me that it sounded like the reason I went through all this was because I was black and lived with a white family.

He said that since we were in the South, they probably faced a lot of backlash for taking me in. He said that his family was more laidback about that kind of thing and didn’t care what color I was, hence why they allowed us to be friends.

But he said his parents’ friends would ask why they would allow him to hang out with me, knowing that I could be a bad influence on him. I had never thought about it that way, but it made a twisted sort of sense.

I decided to confront my family to seek the truth. I called them, but they didn’t answer. I left messages, but they never called back. I decided to come back home and try to speak with them.

I saw Dad’s car in the driveway and knocked on the door. I saw him peek through the blinds and ignore my knocks. I called the house phone again, and he came to the door. He told me that I needed to leave.

The neighbors were looking through their windows, watching us talk. I asked him why he had not protected me all those years and why they decided to kick me out on my birthday. He said again that I needed to leave and threatened to call the police.

I left just as quickly as I came. I couldn’t believe he threatened to call the police on me after taking me in when I was three and raising me until today. They turned me away, and I felt like the little boy that no one wanted to play with all over again.

I made the difficult decision to leave my hometown. I moved to a new city, a bit further north.