Genetics, Judaism, and Finding My Birth Family
My birth mother is Jewish.
Actually, she had been raised Christian, then attended a Unitarian church for a
year, and finally converted to Reform Judaism.
I am also Jewish. I had been
raised Christian, too, then attended a Unitarian church for a month, and
finally converted to Reform Judaism.
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| Charlotte Laws (center) with her birth mom and daughter |
The interesting part is that we
did not know each other — or even know anything about each other — yet we had
followed the same religious path. We had lived in different states with different
families; we had led completely separate lives.
My birth mom was in her mid-20s
and living on the East Coast when she studied with a rabbi and converted to
Reform Judaism. I was 24 and on the West Coast when I completed a one year
“Introduction to Judaism” course. Afterwards, I stood before a Reform
congregation, recited Hebrew passages, and was officially welcomed into the
religion.
Let me back up to 1960 in
Atlanta: I was born in the backseat of an Oldsmobile. My birth mom was in labor
for 15 minutes, not enough time for my birth dad to drive her to the hospital.
A nurse lifted me from the vehicle in the hospital parking lot and immediately
whisked me out of sight because my birth parents had already signed the
official adoption papers. They had relinquished me to “The Agency.”
Two months later, I was adopted
by a well-to-do couple that was determined to raise a respectable number of
children — two — in order to fit in with preppy, debutante society. This
couple, whom I called “Mom” and “Dad,” lived in a big, Atlanta house with a
servant — a servant whose ancestors had purportedly been slaves to Dad’s
family. This was a bragging point for Mom, although I found it disturbing and
embarrassing, plus I’ve never found data to support her claim.
Mom and Dad were racist and
homophobic. They claimed to be Christian, although they never attended church
or discussed religion. They owned guns, raised cattle as a sideline investment,
and had no interest in current events, charities, or philosophy. They were,
however, very interested in money. They were the embodiment of the saying,
“Whoever dies with the most stuff wins.”
They branded me as a bad seed
because I did not share their values, taste, or religion. I liked sequined
dresses, something they considered “low class.” I complained about going to
Sunday school and attending communion services at my private school, confessing
that I was not a Christian. From an early age, I was fascinated with Judaism,
and I seemed to have an innate love for the Jewish people. I also supported the
civil rights movement, gay rights, and had empathy for animals, including those
on the dinner plate. (I became a vegetarian in my early twenties, and a vegan
later in life.)
My differences were not tolerated
in silence — not by my parents, my brother (who was adopted two years after
me), nor certain members of the community. I was called “kooky” and
“defective;” I was told I would go to hell for not believing in Christ. I
always felt out of place, a pair of spiked heels among a sea of
Top-siders.
Mom and Dad were disciples of the
“blank slate” theory. In other words, they did not think genetic material could
affect a child’s personality, interests, or beliefs — a view that was common in
those days. They assumed that, with the right upbringing, an adopted child
could be programmed into a replica of her parents — in this case, an obedient
Christian socialite who would marry a proper, old-money gentleman.
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| Charlotte Laws (center) with her birth mom and natural grandma |
Today, there is astounding new
research on the “nature versus nurture” debate. Experts believe that biology
plays a significant role in determining what a person thinks, what skills she
possesses, what interests she has, and even what career she may enjoy. It is
called having a “biological predisposition” for something. Of course, external
factors also help shape a person, but they are deemed less powerful than
previously thought. Popular books, such as The Nature Assumption, argue
that parents have almost no impact whatsoever on a child’s development.
Steven Pinker, cognitive
psychologist and author of The Blank Slate, agrees that biology affects
personality. He writes, “Though
no one has identified genes for morality, there is circumstantial evidence that
they exist.”
What’s more, research from the
University of Delaware indicates that
intelligence is up to 90 percent genetically determined, and many other factors
or traits also have significant levels of heritability, such as religiosity, social
attitude, hobbies, interests, self-esteem, criminal proclivities, worldview,
musical skills, sexual orientation, and socioeconomic trajectory. The Delaware
researchers state,
“Longitudinal studies of adoptive families show that as adoptive children grow
up they become less like their adoptive parents (the correlation drops to zero)
and more like the biological parents and siblings they may never have seen.”
This was my experience as well.
In my mid-20s, I tracked down my natural parents — not an easy feat because
records in Georgia were closed. I also made contact with my grandmother, aunts,
cousins, and eventually half-siblings. To my astonishment, I found closets full
of spiked heels and not a single pair of Top-siders.
There were numerous links between
me and my birth mom. She was an environmentalist who left Atlanta for
ideological reasons; she could not tolerate the prejudice of the South in the
1960s.
As
for our religious similarities, both of us had been initially drawn to Reform
Judaism because it was malleable, nonjudgmental, and welcoming. It was nothing
like the blindly-accept-the-word-of-Jesus form of Christianity that we had been
force fed as children. Although my birth mom cannot remember her first Shabbat
service, I remember mine. A congregant raised his hand in the middle of the
sermon and offered his opinion, which deviated from that of the rabbi. He was
permitted to explain. The rabbi later told me, “Reform Judaism is not rigid. We
welcome disagreement.” At that moment, I knew I wanted to convert.
Although my natural grandmother,
who died a few years ago, was not Jewish, she was the essence of glitz. She and
I enjoyed the same bizarre hobby: purchasing brand new, department store
clothes and adorning them with sequins and beads. Our garage-sized,
color-coordinated closets looked virtually identical, and we owned much of the
same furnishings, including a rare, carved, antique desk that I have never seen
elsewhere.
My birth father is open-minded
and was thrilled when I told him that I had converted to Judaism. He is an
author; has a doctorate; and loves philosophy and religion. My Ph.D. is in
religion and social ethics. In fact, our entire family is well-degreed; there
are 16 college and graduate school degrees among the five of us (my birth mom,
birth dad, two half-siblings, and myself). My birth dad is also sympathetic to
animal rights arguments and only a few crab cakes away from being a vegetarian.
Like me, he does volunteer work in his spare time and believes people should
formulate their own opinions rather than mindlessly adhere to societal
norms.
No one in my natural family is
focused on money. No one is a patron of preppiness. No one calls me “kooky” or
“defective.” And no one claims that I will go to hell for rejecting Christ.
I am glad that I found my
biological family. I feel connected. I am no longer an outsider in search of a
flock. Although I cannot prove it, I believe our commonalities stem from tiny
hereditary units called genes—including our love of all things Jewish.
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Article was fist published in Kveller on October 3, 2019.
Labels: adopted, adoptive, biological, biology, charlotte laws, dad, father, genes, genetics, heredity, judaism, mom, mother, nature vs nurture, parents, Undercover Debutante
posted by Charlotte Laws at 11:23 AM
