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For most adopted children, finding our identity and who we are is a fundamental need.
I grew up in the Midwest with wonderful, caring parents, but was brought into my life by two other adults I knew nothing about. My birth certificate says Stephen Robert Rowley, and the paper only has the names of my adopted parents, not my biological mom and dad. I didn’t know why they gave me up for adoption. Many of us don’t know whether our birth parents are trying to find us, or if they’re even alive. The search for our birth story can be riddled with obstacles. Whatever records exist may be legally sealed.
Fortunately, I had the curiosity, the means, and the skill set to research and find out more about my biological mom. I knew from childhood I was adopted, my parents never kept that from me. They themselves knew little about my background. In some other cases, adoptive parents may know more than they want to disclose. And some parents who give up a child at birth or early in life don’t want to be discovered. Sealed records protect privacy rights.
But the desire for privacy can change over time. The desire to find the child you parted with at birth can be as strong as the desire of an adopted child to find her or his biological parent. A major obstacle for all parties is the primacy of sealed records, which though well-intended, can be a barrier for finding one’s identity and reconnecting with, arguably, the most important person in one’s life.
23andMe, MyHeritage, Ancestry.com, and other DNA testing and genealogy sites have made this detective work easier. You mail in a saliva sample which, once analyzed, reveals genetic markers that are registered in a database. After that, your genome becomes part of a larger genealogic record within a population base that, on 23andMe for example, now exceeds 14 million people. Ancillary profile data can also be attached to your genome’s traits and your ancestry, including the predisposition for certain health risks. 23andMe participants maintain control over their privacy settings, deciding for themselves how their data will be used.
Tracing the roots and branches of an ancestral family tree can be conducted by anyone with the tools of these platforms, or by a trained genealogist. Important factors in family history — sometimes embarrassing or a source of shame — may be missed, such as illegitimate children, alcoholism, suicides, mental disorders, or crimes. These sites don’t purposefully reach into the messy backgrounds of an individual or family.
On his popular TV series, “Finding Your Roots,” Dr. Louis B. Gates does get into these messy family stories and has more success than most at unraveling family histories. Well-known guests are astounded to find that, for example, their lineage includes family members of a different race. This challenges our very concept of ethnicity and, in some cases, our prejudices. On another note, comedian Larry David, who is Jewish, found out that one of his ancestors was an enslaver in antebellum Alabama. Our human heritage is too complex to be viewed in strictly black and white terms.
Finding one’s biological family, one generation or multiple generations past, can help us feel connected. We belong. We’re a part of something that we didn’t know about before. Through this we can begin to find our genomic identity, the very body we inhabit — our heart and our thoughts are suddenly a part of something greater. And we who are adopted must also reconcile our identities in relation to our adoptive families, which is especially challenging when the adopted child isn’t of the same race or cultural background as his or her new parents.
In April 2023, Angela Tucker’s memoir, You Should Be Grateful, was published. Tucker is Black and was raised by white parents. Her parents’ friends would often remark, “You should be grateful [to be raised in a privileged family]” — a message inherently racist. I believe that in these situations it’s incumbent upon the family from the privileged group to create an atmosphere and resources for their adopted child to experience her or his original community and values, along with the milieu of the parents. Even then, it takes time for the adopted child to decide which identity, if not both, feels right.
We witnessed with former President Barak Obama, who identifies as Black, the way in which he maintained strong ties with the parents of his white European mother. We’d all be lucky to straddle both sides of our own multi-ethnic background so gracefully.
Each challenge is unique, and each can bring us to a closer understanding of ourselves, beyond genetics, ancestral connections, and racial identity. The more we search, the more we find ourselves to be one of a kind — completely unique — and at the same time, wholly universal in our desire to know the answer to perhaps the most important question: Who am I?
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This content is brought to you by Stephen Rowley Ph.D.
Stephen Rowley, Ph.D., is a psychotherapist practicing in Bainbridge Island, Washington. His professional past includes serving as an elementary school teacher and principal, and a school district superintendent in Washington and California. He has been a college professor at three universities, teaching courses in educational administration and organizational theory. He holds a Ph.D. in Administration and Policy Analysis from Stanford University. His new book is: The Lost Coin: A Memoir of Adoption and Destiny (Chiron Publications, Sept. 2023). Learn more at stephenrowley108.com/memoir/.
It’s a shame that author Stephen Rowle refers to himself and other adult adoptees seeking information about their heritage as adopted “children.”
Adoptees who inquire into their ancestry are very rarely “children” and it is quite demeaning and deminishing (in addition to inaccurate) to refer to them as such; akin to calling a male adult “boy.”
Adoptees may have adopted as children – even as newborns – but they do not remain forever as minors. I urge Dr. Rowie to explore his need to refer himself as a perennial child, despite having achived a PhD.