Opinion | Why Were Strangers Allowed to Hide Part of Me From Myself? - The New York Times - 0 views
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For 50 years, my state denied me the story of my birth. All adoptees deserve better.
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In 1968, a woman appeared for an interview at the Children’s Bureau, an adoption agency in Indianapolis
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“a very attractive, sweet looking girl,” who seemed “to come from a good background” and was “intelligent.”
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She was an office worker in Ohio when she became pregnant by a man who wasn’t going to marry her. The most remarkable part of her story was this: When she knew she was about to give birth, she drove westward out of Ohio, stopping at Indianapolis only because it was the first big city she encountered
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The baby was me. If she’d driven farther, I’d be a native of Chicago or St. Louis, but Indianapolis it was
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Secrecy was considered best for all concerned. In recent decades, open adoption has been replacing this practice, but rules governing past adoptions change slowly, and I was barred from seeing my birth records.
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Everything I just told you about my biological parents was unknown to me growing up; they were such a blank that I could not even imagine what they might be like.
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I accepted this until I became an adoptive parent in 2012 and a social worker suggested that my adopted daughter might want to know my story someday
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She’s from China, and like many international adoptees, she also had no story of her biological family.
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Next I called the Children’s Bureau, where a kind woman on the phone had my records in her hands, but was not allowed to share them.
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Typed notes from the Children’s Bureau recorded a visit with my biological mother in the hospital. Asked how she felt, she cried
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It’s been nearly two years since I first read those documents, and I’m still not over it. Knowing that story has altered how I think about myself, and the seemingly simple question of where I’m from
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It’s brought on a feeling of revelation, and also of anger. I’m not upset with my biological mother; it was moving to learn how she managed her predicament alone.
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Her decisions left me with the family that I needed — that I love. Nor am I unhappy with the Children’s Bureau, which did its duty by preserving my records.
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I am angry that for 50 years, my state denied me the story of how I came to live on this earth. Strangers hid part of me from myself.
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I was never able to tell a doctor my family medical history when asked. It’s one of those little things that never bother you until it does.
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Closed adoption began as “confidential” adoption in the early 20th century, enabling parents and children to avoid the stigma of illegitimacy.
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As records are opened, people’s privacy should be respected; that’s why I’m withholding my biological mother’s name and any details that might identify her. But my story is mine, and other adoptees have a right to recover theirs.