Tag Archives: Bastard History

Let me give you some advice, bastard: a few lessons about records and the treatment of adult adoptees

The character Tyrion Lannister on HBO’s Game of Thrones provides expert advice for adoptees who may forget who they are in the eyes of the law (image used for editorial and commentary purposes).

Let me give you some advice, bastard: Never forget what you are. The rest of the world will not.

Tyrion Lannister, Game of Thrones, Season 1

 

This week I found a very interesting discussion on case law concerning efforts by adoptees to legally annul their adoptions and reclaim their original identities that were taken from them by the states and by state law that governs adoption.

There was a back and forth discussion about the merits of the cases and if adoptees have legal rights to their original identities. I decided to weigh in on the thread, even though it was three years old. Here is the crux of what I shared:

For a good background on how the courts have made clear that adoptees have no legal inheritance rights to biological kin, I suggested reviewing articles by University of Baltimore law professor Elizabeth Samuels. Her 2001 Rutgers Law Review article, “The Idea of Adoption,” makes clear  adoption law is designed to protect all biological parents, including fathers-by-sperm only, from any legal claim to their estates and assets by illegimate children given up for adoption.

Before 1943, Samuels writes, adoptees “were usually permitted to inherit from their birth parents as well as from other birth relatives.” By 1970, 21 states expressly forbid such inheritance. This trend matched the pattern of states creating discriminatory laws that prevented adoptees from knowing their past and obtaining their records, which most could usually access before the 1950s in practice, even in states that had sealed records. For Samuels, these laws reflected a prevailing societal idea promoted by adoption supporters that families created by adoption could be the equivalent of families created by kinship and blood. I, however, see a much different set of forces at play, documented over centuries in the denial of rights, property, and even life of those born illegitimately.

This revival of legal prejudice against adoptees, almost all of whom are bastards in the full sense of the word, is not new. It is a carryover from the English and Catholic and canonical legal tradition of treating illegitimately born humans as outsiders and bastards—filius nulius (children of no one or non-people). Bastard children had no claim to land, title, or property. Many were denied basic care and treated to cruelties we cannot begin to imagine. (See the excellent book on this topic: Bastardy and Its Comparative History, edited by Peter Laslett.) Infanticide of bastard babies has been widely documented up through the mid-1800s in Europe and even colonial America, for example.

Michigan’s Treatment of Adoptees and Bastards

The stamp mark of “SEALED” is meant to show me that I am not a real person in the eyes of the state and that I am an adoptee, who must bear the burden of that status on my legal records, which I am entitled to as a human right.

In my case, the state of Michigan intentionally adulterated the original birth certificate I received in 2016, after a bruising fight and court order. It arrived 51 years after my birth, and after I had petitioned for it over three decades.

In my assessment of both the law and the action by state vital records/public health staff who were handling my court ordered petition, they sought to confirm my bastard status and to affirm I did not have legal rights as the person I was born as. The state of course offered another rationale, but the effect was to imprint my identity document with the legal equivalent of a giant scarlet “B,” as in “bastard.” It was an expression of power of the state over “bastardized” and illegitimately born people, like me.

Legalese conversations about case law and law in general overlook the root and clearly documented history of discrimination that underpins this practice. I discuss this at length in Chapter 9 of my new memoir on the U.S. adoption experience.

One cannot separate historic discrimination of illegitimate people when having any conversation about the law, courts, and treatment of U.S. adoptees. Prejudice taints the entire case record and legal system regarding adoption, and to say otherwise is to ignore the legal reality impacting millions of adoptees today. It is that simple. My memoir on this experience explores this reality and its public health implications for millions of U.S. residents.

Changing Your Name Will Not Change Who You Are

Rudy Owens birth certificate after legal name change, showing the state of Michigan did not remove my adopted name (from 2009)

Before I received my original birth certificate, I had petitioned to change my name to incorporate my original birth name that I had known of since 1989 into my new name in 2009, and I was successful, becoming “Rudolf Scott-Douglas Owens.” My new name incorporated my birth name of “Scott Douglas Owens” with my adoptive name of “Martin Rudolf Brueggemann.”

I then requested Michigan’s vital records office to give me my revised birth record. Yet Michigan denied my right to my past and my former legal identity at the time of my birth by still keeping my amended birth certificate’s adoptive name, “Martin Rudolf Brueggemann,” as the prominent name on my now legally changed birth certificate. The new record puts my new legal name in barely visible micro letters below it, even though my new name is my true legal name that the courts bestowed upon me.

So even as adoptees assert their rights to their legal birth records, names, and identities, state public health agencies like the those in Michigan will assert through the perks of bureaucracy that an adopted bastard will have been erased, even if nearly impossible legal petitions exist for only the boldest and most defiant bastards and adoptees to reclaim their true identities.

Regardless, now I will die with the kin name I was born with, and the state cannot erase that. It tried to do that for decades, and it lost. And this bastard has never forgotten how the world has treated those born into this status. 

Memoir release set for April

Rudy Owens’ memoir on the American adoption experience

At long last, I can see the finish line for the first major milestone of sharing my story about the U.S. adoption system with readers. In April, I expect to begin selling my forthcoming memoir and public-health and historic overview of the still-flawed U.S. adoption system on multiple book-selling platforms and hopefully in book and mortar stores. Promoting and marketing my work, and finding the proverbial “stage” to bring it to a wider audience, will be an ongoing effort that will continue for months afterward. For now, first things first.
 
I will publish my book in paperback and e-book versions. I will include a searchable index for the paperback edition. My indexer is finishing this task now. I will be including a range of keywords and subject areas that define the experience of being an adoptee in the United States, including the terms “bastard,” “illegitimate,” “illegitimacy,” and many more. 
 
An index is a critical tool for anyone who wants to quickly find material to help understand the history of U.S. adoption and the ongoing treatment of U.S. adoptees by discriminatory laws and public-health bureaucracies in many states. Here are a few ways my index will call out my subject matter:

  • My work will include original research of how groups like the esteemed American Academy of Pediatrics openly encouraged single women to relinquish their infants without any peer-reviewed or medical evidence that showed adoption relinquishment provided any benefits to the child and mother.
  • I will highlight new information from the organizations (Florence Crittenton Mission and Florence Crittenton Association of America) that ran the hospital where I was born and the dozens of maternity homes nationwide where hundreds of thousands of women were put in hiding and encouraged to give up their children. That data will include a comprehensive study by the Crittenton organizations of “Crittenton moms” and their circumstances when they gave up their children.
  • I will provide a detailed accounting how the state of Michigan fails to treat Michigan-born adoptees fairly and has failed to do its job managing adoptee-records requests and original birth records.
  • It will support my commitment as a scholar and communications and public health professional to be trusted and strongly fact-based source of information that is rooted in evidence and unbiased analysis of data and the meaning of that data.

Please check back on my website to get the latest update on my book’s publishing date, sometime in April. Look for news about a possible Go-Fund-Me campaign too.
 
I also encourage followers of this website to tell your friends to bookmark my webpage, sign up for my newsletterfollow me on Twitter, and, I hope, purchase my work in the coming weeks. 

Does bias influence how publications choose to tell stories about adoptees and adoption history?

This historic photo of a Crittenton mission from the late 1950s or 1960s shows how expecting mothers who stayed at Crittenton homes and hospitals were given maternal health instructions. Almost all of those mothers gave up their infants for adoption at the encouragement of doctors, social workers, and staff at Crittenton and other maternity homes in the decades after World War II. (Photo courtesy of the National Crittenton Foundation.)

This week I was informed by a Michigan historical publication that its editorial committee rejected my proposed article on the historical significance of my birthplace, Crittenton General Hospital. “While the committee appreciates the article you submitted, it unfortunately does not meet our magazine’s editorial needs and we will be unable to accept it for publication,” the editor wrote. 

This means that an article I proposed to tell the story of thousands of single Michigan mothers who gave up their children for adoption in the decades after World War II in Detroit will not reach a wider audience in Michigan. For that, I am disappointed. 

I respectfully asked for feedback how I did not meet their needs, and did not get a reply. I do not expect a response, and to date have not received one.

[Author’s update, 9/15/2017, 1:05 p.m.: Hours after publishing this article, I received a reply from the publication I had contacted that its editorial committee thought my article was a “personal opinion piece,” which they do not accept in their publications. That reply arrived only after I had provided the publication a courtesy email to let them know I had published this article.]

No publication is obligated to tell any writer why they are rejected. Rejection is the norm in the world of writing and publishing. It also inspires good writers.

However, this outcome, which I have experienced when reaching out to many different publications to engage them on the history and problems in the U.S. adoption system, likely has other issues beyond my storytelling abilities or even the merits of the stories I am trying to tell.

The outcome falls into a trend of editorial bias by people who likely do not recognize how their decisions about covering the story of the U.S. adoption system and its history are influenced by their own subconscious views. My forthcoming book on the U.S. adoption experience investigates how bias influences individuals’ and society’s views about illegitimately born people (bastards like me), including adoptees. I also have published an essay on that topic on my blog.

Is it Bad Writing/Research, Bias, or a ‘Suspect’ Writer/Researcher?

Source: Pannucci, Christopher J., and Edwin G. Wilkins. “Identifying and Avoiding Bias in Research.” Plastic and reconstructive surgery 126.2 (2010): 619–625. PMC. Web. 15 Sept. 2017.

The larger issue of research bias is well documented in human-subjects research. That field boasts a staggering list of biases that impact the research outcomes, before, during, and after clinical trials. It also is a well-documented issue in communications.

The open-source scientific publication PLoS noted in a 2009 editorial, “A large and growing literature details the many ways by which research and the subsequent published record can be inappropriately influenced, including publication bias, outcome reporting bias, financial and non-financial, competing interests, sponsors’ control of study data and publication, and restrictions on access to data and materials. But it can be difficult for an editor, reading a submitted manuscript, to disentangle these many influences and to understand whether the work ultimately represents valid science.”

When a writer or researcher is rejected, they have almost no chance of persuading a potential publisher to change its views. If you push your case, you also are further discounted as too “attached” or “engaged.”

In the world of investigative journalism, you are even considered dangerous, and your own publications may turn against you if you fail to accept outcomes that can squash controversial stories. This is a common experience to anyone who has mattered in the world of journalism. 

The celebrated investigative journalist Seymour Hersh wrote in 1993 that telling stories that some people do not want to read but should be told is often a thankless, even dangerous task.

Author and investigative journalist Seymour Hersh, courtesy of Wikipedia.

“Reporters write a story once, and then there’s no response and they stop,” says Hersh. “Somehow the object [is] to keep on pushing. The problem is, what do you do when you make yourself a pain in the ass and you become suspect? Because as everybody knows, for some mysterious reasons, if you have a point of view in a newspaper room you are suspect. Or if you’re a true believer you’re dangerous, you’re political. That’s really crazy. Because it seems to me the only good stories that come out of anything come from people who have a passion about right and wrong, and good and bad. It’s a terrible tragedy. It’s very tough.”

I always turn to Hersh’s quote that I jotted down when I first became a journalist, when I need to remember that telling important stories, including ones that challenge orthodoxy and prejudice, will never be an easy road to travel. That is why I wrote my book about the American adoption experience, knowing it would not be an easy story to tell or to sell.

But anything that matters, really and truly matters, requires overcoming such obstacles. That is how you find personal meaning and how you make positive and meaningful change that may take years to achieve.