Tag Archives: Adoptee Records

How the history of adoption in Michigan remains hidden

Crittenton General Hospital of Detroit, taken shortly after its opening in 1929 (source: Fifty Years’ Work with Girls, 1883-1933: A Story of the Florence Crittenton Homes).

I have published an updated article examining the hidden history of my birthplace, Detroit’s Crittenton General hospital. In my article, I write that one of the unexpected outcomes of the American adoption experience is how the stigma of illegitimacy created a cloak of invisibility around the birth of adoptees and their presence in the general population. The failure to count adoptees officially in state and federal vital statistics such as the U.S. Census up until the year 2000 also has promoted their hidden status. The intersection of these outcomes can be seen in the story of Crittenton General Hospital of Detroit, demolished in 1975 and now largely forgotten.

I was among what I estimate to be at least 20,000 infants born and placed for adoption at this major facility promoting that system during the height of the boom adoption years after World War II. My memoir on my life’s story, You Don’t Know How Lucky You Are, provides additional information on the history of the facility—one of the nation’s largest maternity hospitals dedicated to promoting the separation of infants from their birth mothers and kin through adoption. My book also examines how birth records of adoptions at the hospital are either kept hidden or intentionally sealed to prevent the public from knowing true scope of the adoption system in Detroit and Michigan in the decades after World War II.

Many U.S. adoptees become expert researchers because of legal discrimination

Photo of Adoptee Records and Research for Book on Adoption in the USA

My vital records and research on my adoption experience now fill a box. For most people, they have a single file, with their original birth certificate. I was denied that by the adoption system and discriminatory laws.

Many adoptees may have a box or several boxes that look like mine. It is my adoption records box. I have taken it everywhere I have moved over the last three decades. 

Unfortunately I had to become an archivist just to know who I was. That is because the state where I was born, Michigan, had laws that denied me my human right to know who I was and where I came from. I was forced to play a game that unfortunately went on for nearly 30 years, without any apology from anyone in state government who did everything they could to prevent me from rightfully knowing my past.

However, I was really good. Records I kept and used were instrumental in my later and final battle with Michigan’s discriminatory public health  system that did all it could to keep my birth certificate from me, even though I knew my birth family and mother for decades. Welcome to my world and the world of tens of thousands of adoptees.

Most people’s vital records files have one document, and that is it. My story has a box. My book tells that story that is contained in papers in that box.