Erased today - Birth Family Healing, Recovery, and Success - Adoption Forums

Erased today - Birth Family Healing, Recovery, and Success - Adoption Forums

Dallas Morning News Editorial:"A Fruitful Family Tree"

Katy Perkins Dallas Morning News editorialHector Cantu's article "A Fruitful Family Tree: Surprises and a rich heritage await those who search for their ancestors" was the best illustration I have seen today in the DMN of the double standard for adoptees in this country. Mr. Cantu opened with 'blood doesn't matter' ("they figured the family bloodline would end with them...that was perfectly fine") and closes with 'blood is everything' ("Losing your identity, not knowing where you come from...that's where kids get in trouble.") He interviewed a woman who researched her family tree in order to obtain medical history yet neglected to discuss the relevance of medical history to adoptees. As an adoptee, the only interest I have in my adoptive family's medical history is how healthy they are; beyond that, it has no effect on me, and I have been highly restricted by the state of Texas in how much information I am allowed access to. For those who are adopted, a 'rich heritage' (by blood) may await us, but we may not necessarily be able to find it, no matter how hard we search. Instead, we are told to be grateful for the heritage of our adoptive family, since we are lucky to have a family in the first place. After all, blood doesn't matter, right?

A fruitful family tree Surprises and a rich heritage await those who search for their ancestors 05:08 PM CST on Friday, October 31, 2003 By HECTOR CANTÚ / Special Contributor to The Dallas Morning News Irma Vela's three children are adopted. So when she and her husband began exploring their family tree, they figured the family bloodline would end with them. And that was perfectly fine with the Dallas couple. The love they have for their kids, who have always known they are adopted, has nothing to do with blood, Mrs. Vela says. "Family trees were never important to me," she says. That changed when their daughter, then in the eighth grade, brought home a school assignment to make a family tree. "She expressed a real interest," says Mrs. Vela, 69. Soon, all three of the Vela's children – Robert, Luis and Ana – were interested in their family line. Mrs. Vela and husband Robert, 74, soon began a full-fledged family-tree search. In 1998, they joined others to found HOGAR de Dallas (Hispanic Organization for Genealogy and Research). Then came the surprise. While comparing records with another family, the Velas discovered that their son's children – through their mother – linked into Mrs. Vela's family tree. "Going back six generations, we found that we had a common ancestor," says Mrs. Vela. She is amazed that her family blood flows through her grandchildren. Discovering a link to her grandchildren was not a goal, says Mrs. Vela, a retired teacher. But she does call it a reward. "I've often wondered if I had the same joy that parents have for their biological children," Mrs. Vela says. "This showed me there's no difference in the feelings I have for my grandchildren and my children." Missing branches With help from HOGAR, Latinos are filling in the missing branches of their family trees – finding lost relatives, uncovering family lore and, maybe more important, discovering a sense of place and pride. "We have teachers, doctors, retired military people," says HOGAR president Arturo Garza. "They're all just trying to trace their family history. They want to find out where they came from." HOGAR membership includes about 60 families, says Mr. Garza. They attend conferences, exchange information with other genealogy groups and have access to a large collection of documents – such as birth and death certificates, marriage licenses and baptismal records – collected by HOGAR's senior members. Dorina Thomas, 60, a high school counselor, began tracking down ancestors in 1997 because she was interested in family medical history. "I wanted to see which genes I might inherit." While examining family death records, Mrs. Thomas noticed names of the dead person's parents. Her ancestors, she says, seemed to be calling out for an opportunity to share their stories. "It made me think they themselves ... up in the sky ... wanted me to do this," she says. Since then, she's discovered that her side of the family tree, with deep roots in South Texas, includes family names such as Galindo, Treviño, Martinez and Flores. A great-grandfather was a justice of the peace, and he compiled family lineage lists. His mother, Eugenia de la Garza Falcón Olivares, was especially interesting. Genealogical research linked the woman to Spanish explorer Francisco Vazquez de Coronado, famous for his failed expedition north from Mexico to find the Seven Cities of Gold in 1540. "Coronado married an ancestor in the lineage of Eugenia," Mrs. Thomas says. "It's just fascinating to know one of my ancestors was an explorer who was able to contribute so much to the discovery of lands in Texas. It's a feeling beyond words." Mrs. Thomas and her husband, Jesse, 61, also co-founders of HOGAR, have notebooks and boxes filled with family records and photos dating to the 1840s. Mr. Thomas traces the paternal side of his family to early Texas settlers from Mississippi. Family names on his father's side of the family tree include Sims, Howell and Cavazos. He says an ancestor came to America in the mid-1600s as an indentured servant. His mother's side of his family includes family names like Uresti (sometimes Ureste), Garza and Guajardo. In 1998, while doing research in Corpus Christi, Mr. Thomas found a local Catholic monsignor who had collected information on the Thomas family. It was a treasure trove of information. "My great-great-grandmother was a Choctaw Indian and she apparently had a temper," says Mr. Thomas, a schoolteacher. "She had a large family, and when her husband died, she went back to living in a tent. Well, when she got mad at one son, she would grab her tent and go to live at another son's house." Has that temper been passed down through the generations? "If I do have a temper, I know how to control it," Mr. Thomas says with a laugh. Silent moment HOGAR president Mr. Garza began looking into family history about four years ago. He was at a Plano library when he overheard people talking about birth and death certificates. "They were apparently doing family research," says Mr. Garza, 59. "A couple of days later, I was thinking about my dad. It was one silent moment." Mr. Garza's father had died in 1956, when Mr. Garza was 12. Forty years later, Mr. Garza wanted to know more about his dad. He did research on his own, but then joined HOGAR. "It was curiosity," he says. "I wanted to find out where my ancestors came from." The search has not been easy. When he started his search, Mr. Garza knew little about his dad, other than he was born in Mexico. A crucial break came after he discovered a 91-year-old cousin in Corpus Christi. The woman shared information and stories when Mr. Garza visited her in 2000. Today, Mr. Garza knows his grandparents were Antonio and Severiana Garza. According to relatives, the couple entered the United States about 100 years ago. Mr. Garza's father was one of 12 known siblings. All are deceased. The cousin recalled going to parties at the Garzas' ranch home in South Texas. "She said my mom would fix all kinds of food – tamales, buñuelos – and my dad always provided the music, and they all danced. My dad always welcomed them and made them feel at home." The cousin has provided names of other relatives in South Texas, and Mr. Garza hopes to visit them soon to collect more family history and extend his family tree beyond his grandparents. "The most rewarding part of all this has been finding cousins and reminiscing and being able to talk to someone who knew my dad," Mr. Garza says. "That has been special." Solid foundation Mrs. Thomas sees another benefit of knowing her family history. "When I'm no longer here, on this earth, my children and my children's children will be able to know where they came from," says Mrs. Thomas. "It's important to know your past, who you are and who your parents are. It gives you a solid foundation." Mrs. Thomas' daughter agrees. "Losing your identity, not knowing where you come from ... that's where kids get in trouble," says Dorina Aliza Thomas, 26, a Dallas teacher. "To know things your family has done helps you set goals. You don't feel alone. "People ask me, 'What are you? Why do you have an Anglo name and you're Mexican-American?' Now, I have answers. Now, I have a story, and people get blown away when I tell it." The next HOGAR meeting is scheduled for 6:30 p.m. Nov. 18 at Casa View Branch Library, 10355 Ferguson Road. For details, call 972-841-9455 or e-mail agarza0972@aol.com. Annual membership is $30 per family. E-mail hcantu@dallasnews.com

Obtaining my original birth certificate

Obtaining my original birth certificate was an arduous and emotionally challenging journey. I was reunited with my birthmother in 1999 via the Gladney Center for Adoption’s mutual consent reunion registry, and we continue to negotiate our relationship. We have come a long way, but there is still much room to grow between us. I have since discovered many medical problems in my birth family (Multiple Sclerosis, Lupus, Mitral Valve Syndrome, Endometriosis), of which I probably would not have been notified by the adoption agency. Even though they would have been required by law to tell me, my birth mother never thought to inform them of medical problems later in her life. Closed adoption being the unique animal that it is, correspondence between she and the agency was never something she thought was possible. Besides, the agency never bothered to contact her after the relinquishment papers were signed; that was the way things were done (and continue to be done) in closed adoptions.

This is the process I had to go through because I cannot obtain my original birth certificate in the state of Texas without a court order.

My process actually began in 1998, when I obtained my de-identified record. As an adopted person, upon turning 18, I have a legal right to tour the agency to which I was relinquished, obtain records pertaining to my person which have been “de-identified” (also called ‘the non-id’: all personal information such as dates of birth, names, etc were whited out, then the entire record copied), and I was eligible to register with the agency’s mutual consent reunion registry. This registry, which is run in the same manner as and in conjunction with the Central Adoption Registry (Texas State Registry) is passive, which means that if either party turns out not to be registered, the process stops there. Your registration stays active for 99 years, but no one goes looking for the other party (that would be an active registry). If I had registered and my birth mother’s name had turned up but they found her to be deceased, they would not have given me identifying information. The registry is not advertised, most people do not know it exists, and only adopted people, birth siblings, and birth parents can register. In other words, for these and other reasons, the registry is designed not to work. The CAR only has, on average, 2.8 matches every year. I actually got lucky, given its low performance rate. Once a match is made and before identifying information will be exchanged, (my birthmother was registered), each party must re-approve their registration, and provide proof of one hour of adoption-oriented counseling. There is a fee to obtain the non-id, register, and get counseling, This can get pricey, folks.

In the interim, we exchanged letters through my file at the agency. During this time, the agency opened and read every letter, as we had been strictly instructed not to include any “identifying” information. Occasionally I would find something crossed through. All in the name of “birth parent privacy”.

Even though I knew my birthmother wanted contact (the agency informed me she was registered) and I knew that I wanted contact, search and reunion was an emotional roller coaster. It was my freshman year in college and I was dealing with the “normal” rites of passage associated with that as well. My parents were extremely supportive, but did not understand what I was going through.

I did this the way the system wanted me to do it, not the way most people do it. The majority of adoption searches take place the old fashioned way, by going to the library and looking up birth dates and microfiche and making lots of phone calls and looking at old phone books and high school year books and requesting birth and death and divorce certificates and waiting for years and shouting EUREKA! Demanding our original birth certificates is not about search and reunion, it is a matter of principle.

After being reunited for six years, and explaining to people how to go about having their records opened for five, I decided it was time that I did it myself. I had wanted to do it for years, but never realized how similar to search it was or how much courage, energy, time, endurance, or willpower it took. After all, I was already reunited. How hard could it be?

I’ll tell you. I had heard horror stories about adoptees going to court with their birthmother at their side, and the Judge still said “Sorry, no dice.” In the name of preserving “privacy”, they still didn’t want to open records. You see, we have to show “good cause” in order to get our records open. This usually means we have to be dying. Even then, some adoptees get turned away. Heaven forbid that we should attempt to get a bone marrow transplant from someone in our biological family at the expense of the truth outing itself. Secrecy is toxic; the truth will out one day, whether we’re the ones to do it or not.

Again, I got lucky. I was born in Tarrant County, a county with a reputation for being easy to get records open in. However, I wasn’t lucky enough to be born in Dallas county, where one judge in particular was known to open records regardless of the reason for asking. In his opinion, any reason was “good cause”. Let me ask you this: why is it that just because people who are “lucky enough” to be born in Kansas, or Alaska, or (now) New Hampshire, Tennessee, Oregon, and Alabama can have their original birth certificates, but I can’t? Closer to home, why is it that people who are “lucky enough” to be born in Dallas County can get their records opened for any reason at all, but I have to work for it to show “good cause”?

I was informed by the court clerk that it would help my “cause” to obtain letters of support form my adoptive parents and my birth mother. Two things happened next: I am (sometimes) a by the book person, and buckled down and started gathering my necessary paperwork together. I just thought of this as part of the process. At the same time, I became incredibly angry. Infuriated even. WHY, I kept thinking, should I have to get letters of support? A) I am reunited. B) Don’t I have a right to this information to begin with? Why do I have to keep working for it? Why should I have to ask? Why do I have to beg? Even after the Judge had agreed to open my records, I had to stand in the courtroom and listen to her say, “I see there is no new information here in your record that you do not already know. What exactly is it that you’re looking for?” I remember thinking, What right do YOU have to ask me that? You’ve already agreed to open the record, why don’t you just open it already? What does it matter? It’s mine. What does it matter what I’m looking for? Why are you even wasting both of our time by asking?

Even after all of this, I had to wait about 4 months for the court order to be processed by Vital Statistics and have my original birth certificate sent to me. If I had walked in off of the street it would have taken an hour to obtain. If I had mailed in a regular request for a ‘regular’ birth certificate, it would not have taken 4 months.

“Rather than being based on a numerical or percentage figure, a minority is defined as a group of people who are singled out for unequal treatment, and who regard themselves as objects of discrimination (an act of unfair treatment directed against a group or individual based on characteristics such as race, ethnicity, age, gender, income, marital status, sexual orientation, disability, religion, or politics) which excludes them from full participation in the life of their society. Membership in a minority is referred to as being an ascribed status; it is not voluntary, but comes through birth.”
Wirth, Louise. 1945. “The problem of minority groups.” The science of man in the world crisis. Linton, R. ed. New York: Columbia University Press.

It was certainly not a fun experience, but it was MY experience to have. I still get angry when people ask me if I have found my “real” Mom, (she raised me, and what business is it of yours to ask?) but this was not about search. Open records is not about search and reunion, it is about civil rights. I finally have it. And I plan to frame it alongside the pictures of me standing outside the Tarrant County Courthouse holding my records in the air.

Consciousness Raising

On February 26, I had three ladies over for what I had called "a good old fashioned consciousness raising potluck". I had invited about 10 other people, but because of the extremely short notice the group remained small. Not to worry, a larger group plans to meet in a couple of weeks. We had planned to view Debra Baker's documentary, "Broken Ties", the story of her unexpected pregnancy and subsequent relinquishment during the 1960s. Then we were going to process the video for awhile and talk about adoption as a feminist issue as well as HB770/SB634. What happened instead was completely unexpected. We all opened up about a variety of topics and had rich discussion. It seemed to me that once one traditionally 'taboo' topic was made safe, so many other topics were up for discussion, all of which were tied in some way (directly or indirectly) to adoption. "This doesn't leave this room" became a frequently heard phrase. One woman pointed out that if a politician remained concerned about privacy of birthparents, we should perhaps bring up the Patriot Act to counter. I wondered, why did women ever stop having CR events? There are so many other topics to discuss. Men were invited, but I wondered if the all-female environment was more conducive to self-disclosure. There really are certain things that we felt safer discussing only in front of "our own kind". Pregnancy, childbirth, relinquishment, and surrounding issues are (or can be) so emotionally charged, and sexually infused, that it can be necessary to create a sacred space of sorts; a safe place where women can be free to speak their minds. We will continue to have these potlucks into the semester, and hopefully the year.
Katy Perkins