Anna DeGoede / The Hofstra Chronicle

This summer, I embarked on a journey of a lifetime … to the doctor’s office for a checkup. While there, I was asked a myriad of questions to help fill out my medical information; this was fair, as I haven’t been to the doctor’s office for far too long, but the one question that struck me the most was: “Does your family have a history of [blank]?”

This well-meaning question led to me explaining to the doctor that I was adopted, and no, I did not, in fact, have a way of knowing if my family had a history of asthma or heart problems or whatever medical issues they were asking me about.

It was rather awkward, and I could tell that the doctor felt awkward. But it isn’t really either of our faults, because a large portion of society knows their family history.

The way we ask people about their families, medical history, ancestry and other topics is often centered around the notion that everyone knows if their grandfather is bald or if their mother’s side of the family has heart problems.

The next logical question, when someone doesn’t know these types of things, is something along the lines of “Are you sure you don’t have a way of finding out?” and that conversation is even more awkward and even a little invasive. People should not feel obligated to explain themselves or their family situation to a doctor, teacher or friend, nor must they justify the reason for that situation.

The matter of family history impacts more people than you may think: according to a research report compiled by the National Council for Adoption, from 2019-2020, an estimated 116,000 adoptions took place in the U.S., and in 2019, over 672,000 children spent time in foster care. Beyond that, individuals may be estranged from their families, have lost key family members or come from communities without consistent records.

The field of medicine isn’t the only place where society seems to have acquired an unconscious expectation that people know their family background – the same strange situations happen in classrooms, too. Projects like “Where did your ancestors come from?” and “Draw your family tree” come to mind as crafts that are a staple of helping elementary school students diversify their ideas of where everyone comes from.

Now, I look back on those times and wonder if any of my classmates had the dilemma of whether or not to fake their family trees to avoid questions from the teacher as to why they didn’t do their homework, or if I was the only one who debated leaving my tree blank just to make a point (I have a wonderful family, just non-biological).

I don’t think I ever did back then – I was probably about five years old and too excited about putting little apples on my paper tree to think about it – but now, if I had another assignment like that one, I think I’d consider keeping them blank. 

Would I worry about not getting an A? Perhaps. Would it feel like a disservice, to leave off my mom, dad and brother? 

Would I hope that someone in the room, maybe a future kindergarten teacher, a prospective pediatrician or even my professor that day, would stop and think about what questions they’re asking? 

I may not be able to tell you if my biological mother had stomach issues, but I can at least answer that last question, and it’s a yes.