One year ago, I paid Facebook a dollar to send a message to a woman I didn’t know.
I used FB’s paid “direct send” option to make sure the message went into her inbox and not the “other” folder of obscurity.
I imagined every possible way she could react to my message or, worse, that she would simply never reply.
For days, I had been searching frantically for this woman, ever since my brother told me she existed. He only knew her first name, “Tia,” and that she had at some point lived in Bowling Green, Kentucky. And, he remembered, she looked a lot like me.
Under current law, it is often nearly impossible for adoptees born before 1990 to find their family of origin.
I poured through countless “Tia” profiles on Facebook as I widened the circle from Bowling Green to other parts in the state. Some seemed more promising than others. Tia in Shelbyville possibly had my eyebrows. Tia in Owensboro had my hair color. But they just didn’t seem right.
Then, I found her. My baby sister. My Tia.
I paid my dollar and sent this message: “I’m sorry if this is weird, but I’m looking for a Tia that was adopted and is in her 40s.” Tia saw the message at 1:13 a.m. After a few brief exchanges, I called her. We patiently tried to understand each other’s accents. Now after a year, three visits to Kentucky and countless text messages, it feels like I have known her my whole life.
For those of you outside of the adoption circle, it may be difficult to understand what it feels like to forge relationships with people who share your blood but not your memories.
November is National Adoption Month, which seeks to raise awareness about finding adoptive homes for children in need. It is also a time to reflect on the ways that the laws should be changed to help adoptive children to discover their past.
Under current law, it is often nearly impossible for adoptees born before 1990 to find their family of origin. To date, only nine states allow adoptees unrestricted access to their original birth certificates.
Adoptee activists including Gregory Luce, founder of Adoptee Rights Law Center, and advocacy groups including Bastard Nation are fighting to change these archaic laws. Adoptees are not only denied the ability to meet our families but the ability to learn often vital medical information. To demand access to this information may be perceived as ungratefulness.
Adoptees are not only denied the ability to meet our families but the ability to learn often vital medical information.
While I adore my adopted Norwegian family, I want to reconnect with and cherish my birth culture. There is a part of my soul that only comes alive when I’m in Appalachia, around my people, visiting Tia. But many adoptees live their lives longing for that home they’ll never know.
For some, this primal wound is impossible to overcome. That may be one reason the rate of suicide attempts among adoptees is nearly four times higher than the general population.
We all have a right to know our origins. Our medical history. Our family.
My sister and I spent the last year making up for the 40-plus years that were denied us. We laugh. We gossip. We bond over cheese curds and derby pie.
We make it look easy, but for many, a reunion like ours will never be possible until the laws change, allowing all adoptees full access to their original birth certificates.
Until that time, they will never find their Tia.
This piece was produced as part of the Progressive Media Project.