In 1946, being adopted was a social curse and a lifelong sentence. I was born that year, but not to prosperous business owners, Bill and Cloteel Wilson as I had thought. When I was six weeks old, they brought me to their rural Kentucky town, and I would not know I wasn't theirs until I was in the sixth grade. A disgruntled classmate announced during recess that I as adopted. Even though shocked, I did not have the nerve to confront my parents, who could be quite volatile. For the next forty years, my life was one performance after another, and I played their daughter well. I struggled with...