Should I tell my sister she's adopted?

Lorraine

Hell,  yes!

"Should I tell my sister she's adopted?" was the headline of The Ethicist column in The New York Times Magazine on Sunday. Yikes, I thought this kind of lying by omission was long over, to judge from all we hear about open adoption and such. But apparently not. Not at all.

The man consulting the ethical experts writes:

"My parents never told her that she was adopted, and they asked me not to say anything. They planned on telling her when she was old enough to understand, but they kept putting it off. They know that I believe they have done her a serious disservice."

The writer is the biological son of the parents, and he feels increasingly guilty by keeping this secret, even though the parents in question have asked him not to tell her! He goes on to say that he and his sister have always been close, that she was recently diagnosed as bipolar, and she as often asked why she's so much shorter than the rest of the family. He has deflected her questions in the past, but now the lie (our word) is bothering him a great a deal. He fears that if she has more medical tests, and with DNA tests available, she will discover the truth, and not forgive him. "I am at a loss for what to do," his plea for advice closes.

Fortunately, the expert in question, Kwame Anthony Appiah, who teaches philosophy at New York University, does not hesitate to tell him he should tell his sister the truth. Appiah  adds that the promise the writer made not to tell her was presumably extracted when he was a child, and it also matters that their parents didn't live up to their side of it. Appiah writes:

"Your sister really is entitled to know this basic fact about her life and they aren't entitled to command your silence indefinitely (though you should tell them if you're breaking it)."

He goes on to note that with her current medical diagnosis the situation is somewhat precarious, speculating that the revelation might affect her, so the wise brother should find a good time to tell her, adding: "But don't let too many days go by."

I read this Sunday morning as I was dashing out of the house, and well, it kinda blew me away because I thought this kind of emotional bondage was long past. Realizing this is still a question that an adult asks brought home how far we still have to go in America--perhaps all of Western civilization--in regards to how adoption in handled. But then, we hear about Late Discovery Adoptees  (LDA) like her all the time on Facebook, so I guess my astonishment was not warranted.

LATE DISCOVERY ADOPTEES
I was reminded of an LDA who came to see me after she'd read one of my pieces in Town & Country. We were mere acquaintances, we had only been passing ships in the hallway of the PR agency I worked for briefly. She was obviously from a wealthy family, and into my six-floor walkup on First Avenue in Manhattan she came, spilling out the story of how she learned the truth: In the heat of an argument with her husband, she’d said something about “my mother,” and he shouted back: She’s not even your real mother! You’re adopted! The marriage was over, she says, but what about her parents, people who had lied to her for most—all—of her life? They told him, but didn’t tell me? What do I do now? she asked, I haven’t spoken to them since.

Indeed, what next? I cannot imagine how it is to continue a relationship with people you have grown to love because of the situation, but who have been lying to you for years. This is not in the same category emotionally, but I had a somewhat similar situation recently. My friend Yvonne had always carried on negatively about reuniting adoptees and first/birth mothers. She once told me that I was "no more than a reproductive agent,"and then denied she'd said that. Yet somehow we stayed friends. She met my daughter when she visited for the last time. Yvonne lived three doors up the street, and for the last year or two, she needed companionship, so I often took lunch up there for both of us. When she ran out of conversation, we watched Homeland. She sat in the front row of my reading of Hole In My Heart last summer--she even bought two books--but never would read it because, she said, "we did not agree." One of her caretakers--an adoptive mother--took one of the books; I'm not sure what happened to the other. 

Weeks before Yvonne died, slowly slipping away, she admitted to her "oldest" son that he was not her "first." An odd letter was also found from someone who wrote familiarly, but no one knows who it came from. None of her five children were surprised--in fact, they had surmised the same earlier because there seemed to be no reason for her carrying on about my issue when I wasn't there. Since she had a life in France, and here, the time line works out for her to have a 61-year-old child in France. Knowing Yvonne kept this secret from me totally colored the way I felt about her when we put her to rest. Despite our difference, we had been friends for years, but learning that behind her fury was a child she did not own up to made me feel little more than: good riddance. 

ALWAYS SOONER BETTER THAN LATER
To any adoptive parents who read this, understand that there is never a better time than now. Okay, maybe if someone has a temperature of 104 degrees Fahrenheit, or, well, I can't think of too many good reasons to delay telling someone--but there are some when you need to hold off. But not for long. Every day that you keep an individual's reality from them is another day you are lying to them. Lying by omission to be sure, but in this case, it is an actual lie.  They will most likely learn the truth one day, so every year you hold off is another strike against you in the deficient column, no matter how you protest your love. 

When is the best time, if you haven't made it part of the conversation all along? The age of reason. As soon as one can understand they should know the basic facts of their existence. My daughter heard the words. "You're adopted," before she completely understood them, and wondered why her parents told her she was "a doctor." When she figured it out on her own, there was no big revelation or reckoning. 

How would I tell someone a truth I knew was going to be difficult? If possible, in person. At home, in a restaurant, at Starbucks--it all depends on your relationship. If in person is not possible, in a letter, hand-written or typed on a computer, it's up to you. I told my mother about my secret daughter eight years after I had her, at lunch in a restaurant. Was I scared? Of course. Was it a relief to get it off my chest? Of course. Now we had a relationship built on my full truth. And she came through with honors. She was my great support and confidant in all matters relating to my daughter, and I loved her all the more for it.--lorraine
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SOURCE
Should a Sibling Be Told She’s Adopted?
                                                                       

Hole In My Heart: memoir and report from the fault lines of adoption

"A wonderful book! Through this memoir Lorraine Dusky does an amazing job weaving not only her life story but an impressive history of adoption reform and the political climate impacting it. Highly recommended."--Betsie Norris, director of Adoption Network Cleveland

UPCOMING READING/TALK IN MANHATTAN
Lorraine will be reading/talking at Spence-Chapin in Manhattan from H♥le and hopes anybody nearby will come. I wasn't sure how an agency would react to the book since it is not a poster for adoption, but the response was positive and they asked me...so I said yes. Please come if you are in Manhattan. Date: 3/31, 6:30 p.m. Pre-registration is asked but not necessary to give the agency an idea how many are coming. Link Here:

Lorraine Dusky: A Reading from Hole in my Heart