Putting the Duggars to shame

Don't act like you are unfamiliar with the Duggar family. Those Arkansas pronatalists, celebrated by a multitude of TLC reality shows, were the subject of 2023 Prime Video expose Shiny Happy People: Duggar Family Secrets (which I wrote about for Vanity Fair). They had a lot of kids, it's true! Nineteen, just like the Paul Hardcastle song. But it's possible I have as many, if not more.

I've been thinking about this since the New Yorker sent Jennifer Wilson's "The Family Fallout of DNA Surprises" into the world. The story, which you should of course read, is a general look at the emotional fallout experienced when people engage in at-home DNA testing and discover that the folks who raised them were not their biological parents.

It's funny how pop culture about the future often misses the biggest, most earth-shattering changes. No where in Blade Runner were we all enslaved by the sad black rectangles in our pockets. Gattaca didn't have robot taxis. There was no Amazon in Logan's Run. And as I sat down to watch Starship Troopers, still a little sore from the first time I "donated" ovum, Johnny Rico never mentioned that one day, huge swaths of the population would willingly put their DNA into random fucking databases largely for the purpose of entertainment.

When I BARTed to the Walnut Creek fertility agency for my intake interview in 1997, my main concern was getting from the BART station to the facility, as I couldn't figure out if the suburban enclave had a surface street transit system (it did, but just one that ran during commute hours — I called the agency from a pay phone and someone came to pick me up). I don't remember most of the questions they asked me — a lot about family history, aptitudes, and general viewpoints, I expect. The one question I do remember came from the person who founded the agency. "I just need to know, if one of these children showed up on your doorstep, would you turn them away?" "No, of course not," I replied. But of course, I was thinking "...but it's not like they could find me."

I honestly can't remember how many times I donated, and for how many families. Three-five times a year, maybe? They retired me when I hit 32. I responded really well to the drugs, and always produced a lot of viable eggs for retrieval. What happened after that, I do not know. Good and happy things, I hope.

When these tests first hit the market, I was tempted, as I have always been curious about how much of our family lore was accurate. But I didn't, because I realized that I'd be actively placing myself at the center of a Bay Area web of kids — many now the same age I was when I helped spawn them — who might not know that their family tree had this unexpected, for-profit branch. It seemed mean to create that possible complication.

Reading that NYer story, though, I'm wondering if any of these kids have found each other. Are they banding together to figure out if the same unknown person provided their awkward allergy to celery (sorry!), ability to roll their tongues, or detached earlobes? Are they, as some of the folks to whom Wilson spoke, sad about or mad at me?

People who know me also know that I'm parent to a person who will turn 25 in October. That kid knows who I am; I gave birth to them in 2000, and her parents maintained a relationship with me for a few years, until they sort of drifted away. I am told these things happen in open adoptions as time goes on.

This child, now an adult, texted me in 2020; I responded but didn't hear back. That's fine, truly. I hope they are well, but it's not their job to be my buddy. But I also wonder if they have done the DNA thing, and if they did, what they've learned. Have they found links to my other progeny? Will I buzz an Amazon delivery in one day and discover it's a kid? If so, will I make that fertility clinic owner — wherever she is these days — proud? Or will one of those kids start a Substack or something called "I Can't Believe My Long-Lost Biomom Answered The Door In A Filthy Wayland Yutani T-Shirt"?

Double shot of Amanda Knox

This week, I was a guest on the Extra Hot Great podcast to discuss new Hulu dramatic adaptation The Twisted Tale Of Amanda Knox. We didn't think it was that great, but we had a lot of fun talking about it.

Then I double-dipped and reviewed the show for Best Evidence, where I explain why, even though TTTOAK kind of sucks, you should turn it on. As I wrote it, I rewatched this Seinfeld clip (you'll see why in the first graf), which sort of holds up.

Elsewhere

My friend and Julianna Scott just launched a great podcast called Refrigerator Moms. It's about parenting neurodivergent children, which seems like a funny topic for me to be interested in after all my talk about not wanting to be a mom. But Juliana and her co-host Kelley Jensen are so smart, funny, thoughtful, and — most importantly — totally non-MAHA that I find it an utter delight. Given how shitty and lie-packed the autism content industrial complex is these days, this feels like an important show to support.

Of course you read She's A Beast, Casey Johnston's newsletter about weight lifting (and much more). This Sunday's subscriber issue was especially brill, as she dismantled the bullshit that is the movie Rudy, a film everyone from Indiana was expected to like because it is set in South Bend. My favorite bit (I added the bold font):

Rudy is, in my view, the story of a delusional young man who, through the power of being incredibly un-self-aware about how annoying he is, achieves a completely unrealistic, meaningless dream (wearing the Notre Dame Fighting Irish uniform in a football game) on a series of technicalities, even as every person tells him along the way that he is focused on the wrong things. A fable for teaching mediocre white men everywhere that you can get what you want, no matter how dumb or impractical it is, no matter how ill-suited you are to it, if you stay so determined that you aren’t bothered by simply lying and/or ignore everyone’s requests to please stop.

This was all in response to someone asking how they can get their heads around not being able to lift the way they want. This right here is the kind of wellness content the world needs more of! The full issue is online to read if you snag a sub.