Scientists and Darwin-enthusiasts are dedicating their entire careers and adult lives trying to uncover the truth of human ancestry as it dates back millions of years. Is it so outlandish that some of us demand to know the truth of our ancestry as it pertains to our immediate paternity?

Elaine Morgan explains how we’ve been misled about our ancestral lineage and it’s time to uncover the truth about our aquatic origin.

My dear friend and band-mate, Elin Ey, agreed to sit down with me for an interview. Elin is a lesbian. I am devoted to restricting sperm and egg donation in America. Our friendship may seem to be in conflict.

I sadly do not have high quality recording equipment, but this 48 minute conversation may be just what you’re interested in listening to for your morning commute. I ask Elin what her goals for family planning were before she met me, and now- after the development of our friendship. Enjoy.

Elin’s music can be found on her myspace page. Or if you’re like me, and prefer to both hear and watch, go here for video.

I was walking through Queens’ K-Town yesterday, the second largest Korean community in the US- I feel a connection to Korean culture since that is the country my parents bought my older sister from, before they knew about sperm donation…

I came across this table filled with brochures and horrific images set up by a small group of concerned citizens attempting to educate and spread awareness about an alarming human rights violation in China: government sponsored organ harvesting against the Falun Gong practitioners of mainland China.

On poster-board, they displayed a large image of a skinny young man sprawled lifeless on a cot- three, long, thick sutures branched out from where his heart would be- like the inner-filling of a peace sign, though peace was farthest from the conjured sentiment of the image. He was a Chinese Falun Gong practitioner, an officially de-humanized demographic- a voiceless, non-member of mainstream China.

The front page of the brochure I picked up illustrates the human body and displays the price point associated with each body part, if one is in the market for a particular type of human tissue…

Cornea: $30,000. Lung: $150-170,000. Kidney: $62,000. Liver: $98-130,000. Pancreas: $150,000. Heart: $130-160,ooo. The tag-line above the menu read, “Is the value of a human life… equal only to the sum of its parts?”

Do we do anything like that here in America?

I realize that my mom and her husband didn’t physically kill my father to exploit his “tissue” when creating me. And even though it hurt like hell when I sold my eggs, I did it consciously and voluntarily and I’m still here to talk about it. But violence or no violence, voluntarily or involuntarily, indeed what is the value of a human life? And if we don’t hold such a thing sacred, is there anything left at all to spare from the choke of capitalism?

Organ harvesting is an intense brand of human exploitation. In honor of that dead man on the table, may redemption come quick.

So this Friday I turned 24- an elegant number for what will hopefully be an elegant year. There were some choice details I’d like to share if I’m allowed. I feel like its appropriate to write about how I celebrated my birth, after I’ve been complaining about it so much…

First, the facebook notes ensued. I had long lost friends from all over the globe wish me a quick gefeliciteerd,  or grattis födelsedagen or a joyeuse anniversair- delightful in any language. Then the phone calls: close friends, Sister, Mom… “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear…” her song went. Mom’s voice, followed by my little brother’s delivered two separate “I love you’s” and “good-bye’s” (no step-dad in the audio-mix). When I was a kid I used to revel in imagery of my mom sacrificing her body, joy and resources for my soul benefit. I imagined her delivering me in a frightening hospital, with a stranger doctor invading her privacy as he tried to do his job. She would be pained and regretful. Then I would try to imagine how much money she’s spent on me in a lifetime. I thought of what seemed like a huge number, one thousand. I bet she’s spent at least one thousand dollars on me. I would always comment to her every birthday, “Mom, thank you so much for giving birth to me.” This year I didn’t say those words. I chose to rephrase my gratitude. Instead, I said, “Mom, thanks for loving me and giving me so much of yourself.”

It’s not that I’m ungrateful for an array of precious moments my life has privileged me to; it’s just that I’m not sure life and birth in itself deserves celebration, but rather, the successful delivery and development of a life force: human energy.

I joke with one of our readers, Dawn, who once made the comment, “I don’t understand why donor kids don’t just go out and enjoy life more- like go to the beach!” I understand her point, it often accompanies the ever-so-common question from anyone and everyone who was not donor-conceived, “so you’re saying you wish you’d never been born?” Which places me in a position where I’m forced to measure and weigh my positive vs. negative life experiences and make a judgment call to total strangers about whether or not my life itself has been worth living.

I don’t know how I pulled it off, but this year’s birthday party added mega points into the “worth it” bucket. Bare with me, I’m about to brag a little. We converted my garden-backyard into a performance stage and invited Brooklyn’s finest to celebrate my existence with music, cake, and freshly bloomed sunflowers. Jenny Wilson, pretty much one of my favorite musicians of all time, not yet well-known in the US, but one of Sweden’s A-list female performers, somehow wandered into my party and gave us an unexpected, and much cherished performance.

I bonded with her on my shared Swedish roots- so thankful to have the real stories of my ancestors from my mom’s side. It makes bonding with my favorite Swedish Indie-pop stars so much easier. “How do you speak any Swedish?” she asked. “Well… my family founded this town called Swedeborg see…” I talked about going to the cobble-stone pier in Göteborg, where 90% of all Swedish immigrants boarded and left for America. I talked about what a mistake my ancestors made in immigrating- if they had only stayed I wouldn’t have to sell precious items like my guitar or my eggs just to get a little dental work every so often.

It’s so nice to know where you come from. It’s so nice to know who you come from. For times like this very special birthday I just experienced, when feelings of isolation disappear and connections are made with people I respect and admire, the bucket tips and it becomes worth it.

But what about all the Polish pop stars I’m not bonding with because of my ignorance of that other half of me!

Dan Gilbert gives a speech on happiness at Ted.com.

Freedom to choose is the end of synthetic happiness

On marriage: For folks who enter a marriage thinking, “well if it goes wrong and I decide I don’t like them anymore, I can always get a divorce and find someone better…” Will they really be happier? Probably not. It seems for those of us who are “stuck” with something (or someone) we make the best of what we’ve been given, find the poetry, and learn to love it. Because we have to.

I got in a heated debate yesterday with my four roommates (all around 24, typical middle-class white kids interested in the arts). “I wish my parents had gotten a divorce” one said, “they would have been so much happier apart.” But would they have been? Would the split in financial security, the constant schlepping of children, and the scary search for a new someone really have been a trade up? Where does happiness come from? Is love instant? If it comes fast and swift can’t it be taken away just as quickly? Do we cultivate it? Does it thrive through attention? Do we attach ourselves to that one someone or that one idea, feed it, nurture it, and watch it develop through time and dedication?

If society tells us its okay to quit and start over, as often as we’d like- constantly trading up for better features, a newer model, are we being taught a raw lesson?

The key is commitment.

And as far as donor conception goes: parents, that shiny new kid ain’t gonna make you happy. Happiness is like an orgasm. You can’t expect someone else to provide one for you. You’re responsible for your own.

The family reunion has gone and past and I’m back in Brooklyn, trying to make sense of my time there. This trip was particularly stressful because I decided that I was going to finally tell my mom about all the work I’ve been doing in opposition to commercial conception. She knows that I’ve spent the last year and a half writing the script and assembling a team for a film about my sperm-donor father. She didn’t know it was critical of her decision to have me this way. She didn’t know I was blogging and interviewing about it. The conversation didn’t go so well. Read More

having a baby has stopped being an inevitable part of the life cycle and started to be one of those things-to-do-before-you-die, like climbing Machu Picchu or running a marathon.

Gwynne Watkin’s op-ed on Joyless Parenting. We’ve become accessories, trophies to our parents. Our charms and abilities are quantifiable and marketable indicators of the superior genes and management skills of our mom(s) and dad(s). When people become items to be procured, do we get buyer’s remorse when the hell-raisers don’t play to our expectations? Can we go to customer service and get a refund?

CNN is doing a documentary on one gay couple’s journey to have a family using donor eggs and surrogacy. It airs tomorrow night at 8 pm EST. The teaser lays down a history of Gary and Tony’s twenty-year-strong bond. The two men are committed. They are likable. They appear to be great candidates for fatherhood.

The only problem is… neither of them have a functioning uterus. Or eggs. But that’s not a problem a little cash can’t fix. Read More

Watching TV for the first time in ages. On Discovery Health network there is a show called Unfaithful: Stories of Betrayal.

It begins with a woman and her husband. Upon giving birth to her first child, it is immediately discovered in the delivery room that the child was not her husbands (a multi-racial child was born). The husband, Lee Chen, speaks to the camera, his face hidden behind a shadow, his voice disguised using special software. The husband mourns his wife’s infidelity and expresses guilt that he isn’t able to love a child that is not his.

The couples counselor:

I’ve only [counseled] one couple who kept the child fathered in an affair…. They are still having problems. It’s very hard to see the characteristics, the facial features, the behaviors that belong to somebody else in your child. It’s difficult, very very difficult. I would say adoption is the best way to go in that situation.

-David Carder- Family Therapist

They gave the child up for open adoption. Lee was painfully honest about his inability to correctly and fully love a child that wasn’t his.

I know how it is Lee. It’s awkward trying to lie to yourself about who is in your family.

Had a talk with James Hughes from changesurfer radio on My Daddy’s Name Is Donor.

Polly was a commentator on a former blog post, she writes:

As an older adoptee who grew up in ignorance of my adoptive status; discovered my adoption at 17 (my gut instincts led me to the truth)….and found my first mother at 25 (against all odds at a time when anonymity ruled); I can only applaud openness and honesty for DC children/adults.

At the time of my adoption (1945) it was widely accepted practice that a physical/emotional/legal disconnection from genealogical parents and kin was justified. This argument cannot be sustained in DC practices in the 21st century.

Open adoptions have been practised since the early 1980s. They are undoubtedly a “softer” experience of adoption for most people. However, open adoption does not take away the trauma of adoption; and I do not imagine that “openness” in DC practices will either.

No one would EVER intentionally create a child to be an adoptee; either in a traditional closed adoption or a more open adoption.

The most damaging aspect of DC; is that the child is created with the deliberate intention of being separated from his/her genealogical mother, father and kin. It happens by DESIGN, not by default.

It is this deliberate intent that is, as I see it, the core wrong of donor conception practices.

There is one section of “My Daddy’s Name Is Donor” that hit me hard. Under “Is There a Right to a Child?” Christine Whipp shared:

There is a legal and moral right not to be prevented from indulging in natural procreation, which is framed in various Human Rights conventions. There is no societal right to purloin a child belonging to somebody else, or to expect society to provide a child for somebody who wishes to be a parent.

Page 68 of the report, underneath Christine, Joanna Rose is quoted as:

There is the right to try to have a child naturally within your own sexual relationships… but not a right to have the genetic child of another [person] outside your sexual relationships, facilitated by artificial means.”

A co-worker at the coffee shop I work at approached me yesterday wanting to know if I could cover Sunday for him so he can spend the day with his dad for father’s day. “No problem,” I said. “I don’t have a real dad anyways.”

He gave me a funny look. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. I chuckled uncomfortably and replied, “Don’t worry- it’s not a big deal…. Have fun!”

I recently did an email interview with Barbara Kay from Canada’s National Post. She calls me the”poster child for the negative fallout from the commodification of human genetic materials.” I’m also a “20-something college dropout… obsessed with her genetic heritage, to which she attributes substance abuse and intimacy issues.” Read More

Just checking out the HFEA’s site and reading some of their literature:

“If you plan to donate outside a licensed clinic… we recommend you consult a solicitor first. Where fresh donated sperm is used outside of an HFEA licensed clinic, the donor is considered by law to be the child’s legal father, with all the responsibilities and rights that involves.”

I read it like this: Because we’re adults and we drew up this fancy notarized paper-work saying that this guy isn’t your real father (or mother), you have no legal or spiritual right to claim him/her as such.

And for parents, consider it like this: Because we are a billion dollar industry, and we essentially own fertility lawyers with their million dollar salaries, you have to pay us $$ to legitimize your donor conception, otherwise your “donor” might come knocking on your door asking for their kid back. Suckers.

And notice how father and “second parent” are almost synonymous- an etymological slippery slope, degrading the importance of fatherhood.

The child’s father/second parent

Where the woman who gives birth is married, her husband will be presumed to be the legal father of the child, unless it can be shown that he did not consent to the embryo being placed in his wife. Read More

For all of you who think Donor Kids just need to go to the beach more often to be happy:

This is what’s up.

To parents who have already used commercial conception:

I am 23 years old and being rushed into answering some of life’s biggest problems. If you promise to be patient, I’ll do my best to answer. Though I expect it will take a lifetime…

Buddhism teaches us that all life is suffering. The world is not separated into good and evil, heaven and hell, Jesus and Lucifer. In Buddhism, the world is Kusala and Akusala. Kusala can be explained in many ways. Intelligence, justice, skill, health, talent, happiness, joy, generosity, kindness, empathy, love… These all fall under the category of Kusala. Akusala on the other hand, is everything opposite: lethargy, ignorance, humiliation, degradation, injustice, pain, dishonesty, deception, sickness… Read More