Dear Sarah,
One of the wonderful things about a book like this is that it gets us thinking about issues that we don’t otherwise give much attention. So it’s not just adoption, per se, that Strangers and Kin asks us to think about. It also asks us to consider the importance of blood ties and the balance between nature and nurture; it even raises provocative questions about our own families: Do you love Johnnie so much because he looks or acts like you? Did your mom really visit her Aunt Millie for seven months when she was 17, as family history has it, or do you have a half sibling somewhere?
The history of adoption contains so many valuable insights into our culture and ourselves that I am surprised—and appalled—at how little has been written about it from a sociological, historical, or other broad perspective. Yes, as Melosh points out, there has been a flurry of adoption-related literature during the last couple of decades, but nearly all of it consists of individuals’ memoirs (by birth mothers, adopted people, and a few adoptive parents), thin slices-of-life (about interracial adoption, for example) or, as adoption has become increasingly accepted by the public, “How To” books.
Quick digression: Melosh asserts that Americans have become more apprehensive and uncertain about adoption in recent years; I could not disagree more strongly. The studies that have been conducted, most notably by the Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute, where I work (the studies were done before I became executive editor, so I’ve got no vested interest here) and the research I did for my own book, including hundreds of in-person interviews—point clearly in the opposite direction. Thank goodness for my kids, Melosh’s, and for all the children in this country and around the world who need homes.
Getting back on track, I want to enter the secrecy-privacy debate, because I think it’s crucial to understanding both the evolution of adoption and the sentiments of activists who clamor for the right to open records, search for birth relatives, and related matters. Melosh’s observation about the critical nature of privacy, which you quote, Sarah, is right on the money; we all need and deserve it. What gets lost is that privacy is not the same as secrecy. The former means that access to an adopted person’s birth certificate may sometimes be restricted to ensure that information on it does not become public or violate a confidence. (I’m not in favor of any such restrictions, by the way.) Sealing that document from everyone’s view, irrespective of the wants or needs of involved parties—that’s secrecy, and it sends the clear message that all participants in adoption have something to hide from the get-go.
Likewise on the question of contact between birth parents and adopted people. The statistics you cited are exactly right: Roughly 87 percent to 95 percent of biological mothers, depending on which study you believe, want to know about or have some level of communication with the children they carried inside them. These women, typically, are not looking to give up their own privacy any more than they are seeking to become these adults’ new mommies. But they do want to know what came of the lives they created, just as most adoptees want to know, to varying extents, about their roots (but are not looking for new mothers or fathers). Creating laws and regulations that routinely separate these adults is certainly not about the right to privacy, since both parties want the contact. It is a function of an ethos of secrecy that our society has too frequently imposed because it has misunderstood the needs and desires of those involved. This is a pretty big lesson for all of us, in my view, about the toxic effects of secrecy and the value of learning the realities of a situation before acting on it—systemically or individually. Melosh’s book should help promote an increased level of such understanding as it relates to adoption, but I hope readers also extrapolate from it to other aspects of their lives. Preachy son-of-a-gun, ain’t I?
We keep secrets about things we’re ashamed of or embarrassed about, and I never want my kids to think the way we became a family is shameful or embarrassing. And so I believe the opening up of adoption is an almost entirely positive phenomenon. Yes, it’s more complicated to deal with issues of race and culture when one’s children don’t look like one and aren’t related by blood. But these difficulties can certainly be addressed in honest ways that make people feel good about themselves and enhance their prospects for success. Besides, these are by no means questions that adoptive families face alone; we are becoming more diverse within families and as a culture, so adoption is a terrific prism through which we can view a broader social change.
To answer a couple of specific questions, Sarah: I don’t think kids get confused in open adoptions; they know who mommy and daddy are and are just as capable of drawing distinctions as are children in families divided by divorce, in which there are stepparents, half siblings, and an array of living arrangements. It’s usually the adults who are insecure and muddled. Similarly, I know of almost no cases where disagreement arises between birth and adoptive parents about what’s best for a child—because the adoptive parents ARE the parents and the child knows it; the birth mother lends support and knowledge—but this is almost never seen as co-parenting. Unfortunately, the unfounded fear that open adoption is co-parenting prevents many prospective adopters from proceeding, and leads some to renege on arrangements for openness before the fact.
The bottom line for me, in raising my children Zack and Emmy, and in conducting educational efforts, is that dealing with the truth and treating people respectfully are invariably the best routes even when they are the more challenging or circuitous ones. Search or don’t search; have a relationship between adoptive and birth parents or not; adopt a child or go in for another fertility treatment—all those choices should be up to the affected individuals and families. But they should base their decisions on good information, not on preconceived notions or ill-advised laws and policies. The movement toward openness in adoption is a journey toward greater honesty. Whatever flaws I find in Melosh’s book, she chronicles that reality and, in so doing, helps to accelerate it. Sarah, what do you think?
With warm regards and respect,
Adam
