Abstract
Using a thematic analysis, this study examines the presentation of donor conception in 30 books of fiction written for young adults. Most of the donor-conceived characters in these books live in single mother families, the majority are girls, and most have some kind of status as outsiders. Donor conception is presented differently depending on the type of family in which the teen lives. Children living with single mothers are most often endangered. Children living with lesbian-couple parents are most often marked as outsiders. Among children living with heterosexual-couple parents, donor conception is often presented as a significant issue that can unsettle family dynamics and lead to a search for the donor or donor siblings.
Introduction
Although conception with the assistance of donor sperm is a commonplace event in the United States, the precise number of births resulting from such conceptions remains unknown. Estimates suggest that there have been at least 60,000 such births in the United States alone, but everyone acknowledges that these are only estimates (Nahata, Stanley, & Quinn, 2017). Moreover these are likely to be poor estimates for several reasons: no national agency counts these births; banks keep track of the number of vials of sperm they sell but they do not keep track of how many of those vials result in a live birth (that number depends on voluntary reporting by consumers to the bank); and individuals rely on contacts with sperm donors outside the commercial banks (e.g., the KnownDonorRegistry [https://knowndonorregistry.com/]; personally known donors [Hertz & Nelson, 2019]). Also estimated are the proportions of different kinds of family forms relying on donor conception. Today these estimates suggest that (and in contrast with the relatively recent past) the majority of those relying on donor sperm are single women (50%) followed by same-sex or transgender couples (33%) (Nahata et al., 2017). Heterosexual couples represent a small proportion (less than a fifth) of those relying on donor sperm today because recent technological advances have improved the possibility of conception occurring with a male partner’s sperm even if his sperm count is very low. 1
Donor conception itself provides an occasion to explore a significant issue of current cultural concern. One of the outcomes of genetic testing through sites like 23andMe and Ancestry.com is the creation of social links among people (previously unknown to each other) once they find that they have a common ancestor. These links are frequently defined as “family,” suggesting that the participants believe that genes themselves create kinship (Finkler, 2001; Payne, 2016). For example, a message board on Ancestry.com includes “Success Stories (How I Found Family)” with accounts of finding birth parents and grandchildren who had been placed for adoption. In all of these cases, the genetic tie gives rise to a social bond.
Parents who opt for donor conception simultaneously reinforce and reject this notion of the importance of genetic bonds as the source of kinship. People choosing donor conception act on a desire to have a child with a genetic link to at least one parent. 2 At the same time, by choosing a donor who will not be part of the newly created family, prospective parents discount the importance of the genetic link itself. That is, they act as if the donors have neither the right nor the need to pursue connections with their genetic offspring and they act as if those offspring will be all right even if they do not have contact with a genetic “father.”
Given the frequency of donor conception and its intersection with a current fascination with genetic roots, it is not surprising that it is becoming a topic of interest in young adult literature (YAL) along with other topics of fascination to adolescents (and, in all likelihood, some adults as well). As is shown in what follows, the presentation of donor conception does not offer a single answer to the question of the significance of the genetic link as the basis for social bonding or the question of whether donor conception does, indeed, produce children who are all right, even if they do not know their donor. In fact, the existing body of YAL in which a character is donor conceived, when taken as a whole, suggests that the well-being of donor-conceived individuals depends largely on the type of family in which donor conception occurs. This is the case even though scholarly research on this issue suggests something quite different. I review that research below and then turn to research that discusses the category of YAL itself. In the conclusion, I return to the broader cultural question of the relevance of genes for the creation of social bonds.
The Well-Being of Donor-Conceived Adolescents
In fact, much is known about the well-being of children conceived using donor gametes. Although some people raise concerns about the psychological adjustment of donor-conceived children (Marquardt, Glenn, & Clark, 2010), two major reviews of the various studies on this topic indicate that those concerns are unnecessary. Ilioi and Golombok (2015) summarize the findings about the well-being of donor-conceived adolescents. They include in their review information about children conceived via the assisted reproductive technologies of in-vitro fertilization, donor insemination, and egg donation. In their summary statement of results, they write that children born through all assisted reproductive technologies are as well-adjusted and have as positive parent–adolescent relationships as children conceived “naturally.” These authors thus argue that the only differences found between families in which there was donor insemination and naturally conceived families is more positive parent–child relationships in donor-insemination families. These findings apply to children in lesbian-couple and single-mother families as well as to those in heterosexual-couple families.
Ilioi and Golombok (2015) acknowledge some complexities among these findings. They note that within heterosexual-couple families relying on donor insemination, the researchers Freeman and Golombok (2012) find some evidence of less warmth between fathers and adolescents; they note also that other research on the same kind of families finds fathers to be less involved in discipline (Golombok, MacCallum, Goodman, & Rutter, 2002). The age at which children are told about donor conception (referred to as “disclosure”) is also considered to be an important factor: Several studies suggest that adolescents who were told about their conception at an early age are less negative about being donor conceived than are those who are told later (Jadva, Freeman, Kramer, & Golombok, 2009; Scheib, Riordan, & Rubin, 2005).
In another overview of the psychosocial evidence, Freeman (2015) draws essentially the same set of conclusions. Freeman (2015, p. 48) argues that longitudinal studies, in which outcomes in families created through different reproductive means are compared, have found that “children in gamete donation families are faring as well as their counterparts in other family forms.” Freeman also mentions the issue of types of families relying on donor conception. Acknowledging the variety of family forms enabled by gamete donation, Freeman concludes that the evidence indicates that what matters for the well-being of donor-conceived children is the quality of parenting rather than the means through which the family was created or the form it ultimately took.
Freeman (2015, pp. 51-52) also emphasizes the importance of early disclosure, citing the research of Turner and Coyle (2000) and Jadva et al. (2009): In this vein, a finding that has gained particular currency within ethical and policy discussions is that “early disclosure” tends to be associated with more positive outcomes: if children are to be informed of their donor conception, the most favourable situation is to be told from an early age so they are never shocked by discovering this knowledge.
Freeman notes that studies show that an increased interest in sperm donors is found among children living without a father, such as those in single-mother families. (On this issue, see also Freeman, Bourne, Jadva, & Smith, 2014.) For those with fathers, research by Blake, Zadeh, Statham, and Freeman (2014) suggests that adolescents aware of donor origins report “less warmth in their relationship with their father but they also described their lack of genetic relatedness with him as being unimportant.”
Research shows that changes in personal circumstances and reaching a developmental milestone such as becoming a teenager prompt the search for birth parents among children placed for adoption (Crawshaw, 2002). Something similar might be the case for donor-conceived children who might begin to search for donors and/or donor siblings (i.e., children born into different families who have the same donor) during adolescence. For example, Zadeh, Ilioi, Jadva, and Golombok (2018) found that the majority of adolescents conceived through sperm donation, egg donation, or surrogacy (both traditional and gestational) who had no contact with their surrogate or donor were interested in who they were and were curious about them. Some research suggests that among adolescents in single-parent or lesbian-couple families, those whose attachment to their mothers is more secure are more likely to be curious about their donor conception than are those with a less secure attachment (Slutsky et al., 2016). Much research on this topic relies on those who have already engaged in the search for genetic relatives through sites like the Donor Sibling Registry (https://www.donorsiblingregistry.com/), which enables parents and donor-conceived adults to locate others who have used the same donor. Therefore, there is no way to know how family form or any other variable shapes the impulse to search (Hertz & Mattes, 2011; Hertz, Nelson, & Kramer, 2016). Research does suggest that the reason for (rather than the frequency of) searching does not fluctuate with family type (Jadva, Freeman, Kramer, & Golombok, 2010).
Young Adult Literature
For many teens, YAL is part of the adolescent experience. This is especially the case, of course, for those teens who read independently; it is also the case for those whose schools include YAL in the curriculum. YAL can be defined by a laundry list of characteristics that include that the protagonist is a teenager and that “events [in the book] revolve around the protagonist and his/her struggle to resolve conflict” (Cole, 2008, p. 49). Within this broad category, those books in which parents are either absent or at odds with young adults and that address “coming-of-age” issues constitute a genre referred to as the “problem novel.” This genre was identified in the latter part of the 20th century to describe realistic books that spoke to personal and social issues (Cart, 2016). One writer, identified as the “queen of the problem novel” is Jeanette Eyerly whose books (in the 1970s and 1980s) dealt with issues like dropping out of school, teenage pregnancy, abortion, and divorce (Cart, 2016). Today, problem novels include such topics as police killings (Thomas, 2018), school shootings (Nijkamp, 2016), and being trans (Gold, 2018). Beyond introducing personal and social issues, problem novels have characters who are not perfect and who come from “all races, cultures, family structures, and socioeconomic backgrounds” (Cole, 2008, p. 101). Other characteristics include setting (close to home), atmosphere (emotional tone), use of “native language” (including profanity and dialect), and varied style (Cole, 2008).
Taken as a whole, it is argued the characteristics of problem novels give them “incredible power to hook teens into reading” (Cole, 2008, p. 104). This same power necessarily leads to concerns about how various topics are covered in books which teens may read without the intermediary of a teacher or parent. Hence we have studies of young adult fiction concerning the portrayal of adoption (Parsons, Fuxa, Kander, & Hardy, 2017), African Americans (Brooks, 2006; Smith, 1994), LGBTQ (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer) content (Cart & Jenkins, 2006; Jenkins, 1998), weight (Glessner, Hoover, & Hazlett, 2006), poverty (Hill & Darragh, 2016), “geeks and nerds” (Stanley, 2015), and female sexuality (Younger, 2003) among other topics. 3 In their analysis of LGBTQ themes in YAL, Cart and Jenkins (2006, pp. 143-144) refer to a model of progress established by Bishop (1982, 2012) for representation of the African American experience in children’s fiction. They find evidence of “heightened homosexual visibility [in] the growing number of secondary characters in YA fiction who ‘just happen’ to be gay.” 4 A similar measure might be used for considering “progress” in the representation of donor conception because being donor conceived could easily constitute such a status of “just happens to be.” In this case, parents make the choice for their children and in both single-mother and heterosexual-couple families, discussion of a child’s conception could easily be avoided. Moreover, since the evidence suggests that children who are donor conceived are as well-adjusted as other teens, there may be no reason to dwell on, or take special note of, their origins.
As is the case for other categories of being, the representation of donor conception in young adult fiction could have effects on those who are donor conceived themselves and want to know how their experience compares with that of other such children. It could also be of importance to children who are not donor conceived as a way of learning about this form of conception in all types of families. Material is available for parents interested in explaining donor conception to young children (Mendell & Sarles, 2010a). But, to date, donor-conceived children who are older report that their experiences are not covered in standard sex education units and thus they have to explain their lives to their peers (Hertz & Nelson, 2019). As Zadeh, Freeman, and Golombok (2016b) have recommended, teachers might have more materials available to might help children better understand the issue of donor conception and relieve donor-conceived children from the burden of explanation.
Since 2010, Mendell and Sarles (2010b) have also asserted the importance of having available this kind of literature for teens and teachers alike. In addition, they provide brief summaries of some of the books that present donor conception to teen readers on a list that accompanies their statement. However, they do not otherwise characterize the plots or provide any analysis of how donor-conceived youth are portrayed. This study begins to fill in gaps in our understanding of the representation of donor conception. It asks how the issue of donor conception and donor-conceived teens themselves are presented in realistic, problem fiction written for teens. It also asks whether that presentation depends in any way on family form. This study cannot say whether such issues as gender, sexual orientation, family type, and personal problems of difference (e.g., being overweight or friendless) in the body of literature with a donor-conceived character differ from the norm for fiction that does not include a donor-conceived character. At the same time, an overview of these books not only sheds light on how donor-conceived teens are represented in books likely to be read by their peers, but it also sheds light on the broader question of whether genetic ties are valued over social ones.
Method
Selection of Books
Until recently, there was no way in which to identify through a Library of Congress search, those books that dealt with donor conception. At the urging of Patricia Sarles and Patricia Mendell, the Library of Congress has added the subject of “children of sperm donors” to its headings (Sarles & Mendell, 2012). Even before then—and continuing into the present—Patricia Sarles on her own and in conjunction with Patricia Mendell has kept lists of books on this topic for young children (“Assisted Reproduction,” n.d.) and for teens (Mendell & Sarles, 2010b; Sarles, 2017). For this study, the list updated by Sarles constitutes the full body of data from which further selections were made.
In order to keep the range of ages of potential readers narrow, I chose to include only those books (in English) from Sarles’s blog that were listed on Amazon.com as being appropriate for young adult or teen readers (rather than including elementary-age and middle school children) and only those in which a major character was conceived by sperm donation (rather than including also those with egg donation or cloning). Because I wanted only realistic books, I included only those in which the action took place in the time in which the book was published (ranging from 2001 to 2017) rather than in some historical past or imagined future. Although the majority of texts consist of contemporary realism, there are exceptions, such as the inclusion of magic realism (Devil and The Bluebird), spirit magic (Teen Spirit), and horror (Say Her Name). In all the books, one of the major characters is donor conceived and is a high school student. (One book—The Other F-Word—is counted twice because it has two main characters, each of whom is donor conceived; the two characters live in different families.) The complete list of 30 books (with 31 characters) is presented in Table 1.
Books.
Coding
The findings reported below emerge from a content analysis of these 30 books. Some of the coding was straightforward. For each book, I recorded the following data: year of publication, gender of the donor-conceived character, sexual orientation of the donor-conceived character, family type both at time of conception and at the time of the book’s action, and the reason for donor conception. Among these, family type became the major independent variable against which I considered other variables. I chose this variable because early awareness and the experience, of donor conception are both likely to be shaped by family type. It is for this reason, also that so much research on offspring attitudes toward donor conception uses this as a major analytic divide (Jadva et al., 2009; Nelson, Hertz, & Kramer, 2013; Zadeh et al., 2016a; Zadeh et al., 2016b).
After reading through all the books, I developed categories for a thematic analysis (Nowell, Norris, White, & Moules, 2017). Unlike the straightforward information about publication dates or family type, these categories emerged in my consideration first, of how the issue of donor conception was presented (and whether it led to a search for the donor) and second, of how the donor-conceived character fared in the world. With respect to the presentation of donor conception itself, I coded the reasons given for relying on donor sperm. I also observed that donor conception itself was considered to be of varying significance. In some books, it was the main theme that drove the plot (i.e., the main character’s discovery that they were donor conceived gave rise to the central activities in the book). In some books, it was an issue of significance but did not actually determine the action of the book (i.e., a character occasionally wondered about the donor but did not search for the donor). And in some books, it seemed insignificant (i.e., a character mentions being donor conceived but does not dwell on that fact). Because one of the major actions that knowledge of donor conception might produce is that of a search for the donor or donor siblings, I also coded whether these activities took place. The issue of searching by donor-conceived children (as would be the case for children placed for adoption) is of particular importance because it reflects a belief that the genetic link might carry with it some form of kinship.
With respect to how the donor-conceived character fared in the world, one theme echoes more general issues of YAL, which frequently considers problems confronting adolescents and adolescents’ concerns about whether or not they are “normal.” I thus coded whether the child was “marked” either by some kind of temporary (e.g., being friendless or overweight 5 ) or permanent (e.g., having a facial deformity) difference; in no case did being donor conceived itself constitute “marking” even though some children were teased for having parents who were lesbian.
The second theme was more idiosyncratic. As I read the books, I observed that many of the characters faced dangerous situations and that in one book the donor-conceived child actually died and so I coded for different levels of danger (i.e., no danger, some danger, and extreme danger). These last two themes were of particular interest because they would suggest that donor conception was in some way a problem, either because it created a social misfit or because it was associated with threats to the life of the child.
Findings
Basic Data
As Table 1 shows, the first of these books was published in 2001 and the last four in 2017. Fifteen of these books were published in the years between 2001 and 2011; the other 15 were published after 2010. Only five of the characters (16%) are boys. None of the characters living within a heterosexual-couple family either at the time of conception or at the time of the events in the book is a boy: thus, the relationship between a boy and the father who is not the genetic father is not portrayed. The highest proportion of boys is found among the lesbian-couple families (at the point of conception and at the time of the book’s action) where three of the characters are boys. All of the characters in all of the books are heterosexual in their love lives. One of the characters has a twin who identifies as a lesbian and has a female lover (The Upside of Unrequited); because she plays a secondary role in the plot and her voice is not heard, she is not counted as a separate character. In one of the books (Spirit Level), the girl falls in love with a trans boy; this relationship is portrayed as a heterosexual one.
Nineteen (61%) of the characters in these books are conceived by a single mother; eight (25%) donor-conceived children are conceived in a lesbian couple family; and the remaining four (13%) are conceived in a heterosexual-couple family. 6 If we assume the existing data about family type and reliance on donor conception to be correct (Nahata et al., 2017), single-mother families are overrepresented in these books, while lesbian-couple families and heterosexual-couple families are both slightly underrepresented. Because there are so few heterosexual-couple families into which children are conceived in these books, any statements about patterns will be very tentative. At the same time, the data show that in three out of four heterosexual-couple families where the fathers have relied on sperm donation to conceive a child, the father either falls ill with a terminal disease or dies. Death and illness of parents are less common within the other two types of families. Among the nine lesbian-couple families at the time of conception one mother falls ill (Between Mom and Jo) and another has died by the time of the action in the book (The Other F-Word). Among the original 19 single-mother families, one mother dies (Devil and The Bluebird).
Because of deaths and marriages, only two of the original heterosexual-couple families are heterosexual-couple families at the time of the events of the book. Lesbian-couple families change less often: one out of the original eight has become a single mother by the time the book begins. Among the 19 single mothers at the time of conception, one has died, leaving the child an orphan, and one has married so the donor-conceived child now has a father. Altogether there is the same number of single-parent families in both time periods, in the second time period, there is one less heterosexual-couple family, one less lesbian-couple family, and two new family forms where the children are orphans.
Reason for Donor Conception
Family type is, obviously, associated with the reasons why a child is donor conceived so it is not surprising that the treatment of this issue is different in each of the family forms. The books in which the parents are lesbians never explain why they relied on donor conception rather than one parent having intercourse with a man. All these children “just happen to be” donor conceived. By way of contrast, the reason the child is donor conceived is discussed explicitly in all the books where donor conception took place within a heterosexual-couple family: In all four of these books, the father is described as being infertile.
In one book where a child was conceived by a single mother who later married, the mother is described primarily as deeply desiring a child and secondarily as ready to act independently. The same combination of strong desire and independence is found among those 18 mothers conceiving children as single mothers who do not subsequently marry. Seven of the eighteen (39%) focus somewhat more on independence and the women are occasionally criticized within the books for choosing to act autonomously. For example, in Left Out the donor conception is described by a friend of the donor-conceived teen like this: “He was the result of her opinions on bringing up children. Worse than that, he was the result of her opinions on the right of a single woman to be a mother” (Kindle location: 135-140). Six (33%) focus somewhat more on how very much a child was wanted. For example, in Call Me Mimi, the donor-conceived child says, This is all I had gleaned from years of pestering Maman. She had always wanted to have a child, but her soon-to-be-exhusband did not. At least, not with his wife. When she turned thirty-nine, she divorced the guy, sold the house, colored her hair blonde, and went to a sperm bank in Toronto. (pp. 15-16, Kindle edition)
Three (17%) of the books leave the conception as a fact without reporting why the mother acted the way she did. In Feathered, the donor-conceived character (Michelle) does not provide the explanation but her best friend whose voice is also heard throughout the book does: “Michelle had no father. ‘My father was a sperm,’ she’d say. My mother picked him because he had blue-green eyes and was a cello player. He cost a thousand bucks. Quite a bargain, huh?’”(p. 14, Kindle edition). Finally, in two other books (11%), other reasons are given. One child is conceived by a single mother to provide a sibling for a first child born following a heterosexual encounter: My mom got pregnant on the road. She was a musician. The guy was too, only a big name. They didn’t stay together. She decided she didn’t want Cass to be alone, so along came Donor 707. I don’t know anything about him, other than he was good at science. (p. 163, Devil and the Bluebird)
And one child—the daughter in Secret of a Heart Note—is told that her mother could not fall in love or she would lose her special gift—her aromateur abilities: While there’s no explicit rule against romantic relationships, our colonial ancestor jinxed them in her Last Word: “Beware ye aromateur; lay your traps of love, but do not yourself get caught.” Fall in love and, like Aunt Bryony, lose your supersniffer. It’s why Mother chose my father from a list of donors she got in the mail like a Christmas catalogue. (Kindle locations: 348-350)
The Significance of Donor Conception to the Plot
In over half (55%) of the books, the fact that the teen was conceived with donated sperm is essentially irrelevant to the plot (Table 2, Panel A). That is, the author might explain why the child is donor conceived but does not make that fact relevant to the action that transpires. For example, Goddess Games revolves around competition among three girls working at the same spa; the donor conception of one of the three is an incidental, but not determining, fact about her life and her ability to make friends or find a romance. In four books (13%), the issue of donor conception is marginally relevant to the plot but does not dictate the storyline. For example, in Saving Montgomery Sole, the family form (and its implied reliance on donor conception) becomes significant when a right-wing preacher comes to town and tries to campaign against gay and lesbian families. However, the central issue for the major character in this book is not her donor conception or even her family form. Rather, it is her relationship with friends and her emerging self-esteem. Finally, as illustrated more fully below, in 11 books (35%), donor conception entirely determines the shape of the plot insofar as the action revolves around the search for the donor or donor siblings.
Plot Issues.
The significance of donor conception to the plot varies with family form. At both the time of conception and the time of the book’s events, children born to single mothers and children born into lesbian-couple families are more often than not presented as if they lead their lives without continuing reference to having been donor conceived. By way of contrast, in all the books in which a child is conceived into a heterosexual-couple family as well as in all of those in which the child lives in a heterosexual-couple family when the book’s action transpires, donor conception drives the plot. That is, in none of these is donor conception a minor issue; none of the main characters “just happen to be” donor conceived. Indeed, among the four books in which a child is conceived into a heterosexual-couple family, unanticipated disclosure comes as a shock and initiates the action. 7 These four books all conclude with a statement about how donor conception becomes relevant to attachments within the family in which one lives.
In one of the books, Cassidy (Finding Cassidy) learns that she is not her father’s biological daughter when he is diagnosed with Huntington’s chorea and she is told that she need not be tested for whether she has that gene. After a period of alienation, she rediscovers her love for the man (Frank) who is the only father she has ever known: I scooted the chair forward and leaned over until my head rested on Dad’s shoulder. . . . Something needed to be said, and I couldn’t leave the hospital without saying it, just in case Frank never did leave the hospital and died without knowing how I felt. “I love you, Dad. I just want you to know that, okay?” I didn’t expect an answer, so I kept on babbling. “Because you are my dad and I am your daughter and everybody’s been telling me that since the beginning. . . . And they were right and I was wrong.” (Kindle locations: 2629-2635)
In another such book (Silence Is Goldfish), the major character, Tess, has gone mute at the shock of reading the beginning of her father’s blog where he explained how little love he originally had for his donor-conceived daughter. The book concludes with this same father saying, “I’m not the best dad, Tess. I know that. But I am your dad.” In response, Tess’s voice says, “The words are quiet and simple—my sort of words, drifting out of his mouth to settle on my skin like snowflakes in first dawn, melting into me as I accept them as truth.” Missing Me, which also begins with a daughter’s (Madison) inadvertent discovery of her donor conception, ends with a newly enlarged “family,” all members of which are in the same room at the same time: the donor, the mother, the sister, the sister’s fiancé, the new niece, and Madison’s boyfriend. And if for some time Madison sees herself as an outsider to her sister’s new life, she knows at the end that she will be included in her sister’s family as it moves forward. Wanda, of Brave New Wanda, no longer has her family of origin into which to be reabsorbed. But she has the opportunity for a new one which will not be based on genes at all but will include Patty, who handled public affairs at the hospital where Wanda was conceived (and who has been trying to get pregnant herself), and a donor-conceived child who has been abandoned by the father (who is not the donor).
In one book, donor siblings are part of a newly invigorated family. In fact, The Other Half of Me, the one book where the mother conceives a child as a single mother (and the child now lives in a heterosexual-couple family), ends with the creation of an entirely new kind of family. The major character, Jenny, has been feeling at odds in her family because she is the only family member who is artistic rather than athletic. She searches for donor siblings without letting her parents know; eventually one donor sibling comes to spend time in her family. At the end of the book Jenny, the donor-conceived teen, becomes aware that there are more donor siblings. She also learns to relish her position as “part of a circle of family and friends” (p. 246). Most significantly, she comes to recognize the importance of her bond with her father even though he is not her genetic father: I get chills over my hot arms and look my dad straight in the eyes. “A little. I mean, you’re my dad, right? You have been and always will be. But sometimes I just wish I had a part of you. Like how Sierra and Sage have your nose, and Russ has your throwing arm.” “But, Jenny, you’re more like me than anyone else in the family,” Dad says. . . . “We’re both stubborn as hell.” Dad smirks and pats me on the head. “We don’t like surprises, and probably overthink to a fault. And we’re both artists, except I facilitate words instead of colors.” (Kindle edition, p. 225)
Search for Donor and/or Donor Siblings
In nine (29%) of the books the child actively searches for the donor (Table 2, Panel B). All of the children born into a heterosexual-couple family search for the donor, only two (25%) of those born into a lesbian couple family search for the donor, and three (16%) of those born into a single parent family search for the donor. The search for donor siblings is less common, occurring in only four (13%) of the books (Table 2, Panel C). None of the children born into a heterosexual-couple family searches for donor siblings. At the time of the action in the book, one teen living in a heterosexual-couple family, one teen living in a lesbian-couple family, and two teens living in a single-parent family search for donor siblings.
Child Endangered
In nine (29%) of these books, the child faces some serious or extreme danger and in one of these the child dies. In five (16%) other books, the child is somewhat endangered (Table 2, Panel D). Endangerment varies with family form. None of the children living in a heterosexual-couple family at the time of the book’s action is placed in danger. Danger is also infrequent among children living in lesbian-couple families. Only one such child (You’re Welcome Universe) faces moderate danger: She is often close to being arrested because she is a graffiti artist. None of the children who have two same-sex parents when they are conceived or when the actions occur are in extreme danger.
By way of contrast, danger is the norm among the 19 teens living in a single-parent family as well as among those who are orphans. Among those living in a single-parent family when the book’s events occur, three (16%) face moderate danger and seven (42%) face extreme danger; both of the orphans face extreme danger. In Feathered, Michelle, the girl off on a holiday in Mexico with her friends disappears into some kind of trauma that we do not ever really know much about although the text implies that she is raped, abandoned, and left to live among some native people. The girl in Burnout has been given an overdose and is close to death. In After the Woods, Julia has been kidnapped. In Say Her Name, one student is killed while she and her classmates experiment with spirits. The girl in Teen Spirit is almost taken over by an evil spirit. In Rebels by Accident, Mariam is caught up in the events of “Arab Spring” in Egypt. Wanda, the young girl in Brave New Wanda (an orphan) lives at first with a dangerous man and is then driving around the country essentially on her own. And, finally, Blue (an orphan) in Devil and The Bluebird makes a deal with the devil, becomes mute, and encounters one dangerous situation after another.
Four of the five less extreme cases of endangerment also involve teens born to a single mother who does not now live in a heterosexual-couple family. In Headlock, the teen (Kyle, one of the few boys) is caring for his grandmother, going to school, and becoming a wrestler entirely on his own. In Left Out, the donor-conceived teen becomes involved with a group of other children who shoot up a school; because he has appendicitis, he is absent from school that day and thus is not injured. In Spirit Level, Harriet, the donor-conceived teen, is attacked by a donor sibling; and in Call Me Mimi, the donor-conceived child (Mimi) is thrown out of her Aunt’s house and is homeless for some time.
In only one of these books is the single mother directly responsible for the danger the child faces. (The mother has essentially abandoned the child in Headlock, although she later returns and takes on the responsibility for the grandmother. 8 ) However, in a couple of cases, it is only the donor-conceived child among other children who is endangered. That is the donor-conceived child is at risk and not the other children in the school (Say Her Name), on the trip to Mexico (Feathered), or in the woods (After the Woods).
In five of the books where a child living with a single mother faces danger, a father figure is nearby at the moment when the child is rescued or brought back to secure mental health. By the end of Feathered, it becomes clear that Michelle should have stayed with the man who seemed fatherly rather than taking a ride with teens closer to her own age. Moreover, the “fatherly” man helps the mother search for her daughter when she is lost. He and the mother fall in love and thus he will eventually become her father. The teen in Burnout begins to spend more time with the man who is the father of her half brother as part of her recovery. In After The Woods, the man who is actually the donor is around more and taking care of the main character in a way he did not before she was endangered. In Missing Me, the donor himself effectively saves the lives of the children who are endangered. And finally, in Teen Spirit, the steadying encounter with the man who is her donor helps the donor-conceived child resist the spirit threatening to overtake her.
Marking
In over half of the books, the teens are marked in some temporary way that creates an outsider status: that is, they are shy, overweight, nerdy, or friendless and, often, they have some combination of these “problems” (Table 2, Panels E-G). In many of these books, the plot focuses on these problems. For example, the teen in You’re Welcome Universe (lesbian couple parents) is miserable because she has no friends; similarly, the girl in Silence Is Goldfish (heterosexual-couple parents) lies to her father about having a rich social life when she is actually quite isolated and talks only to a flashlight. In an additional six books, at least one of the characters has a difference or disability that does not mark them as a temporary outsider but rather as a permanent outsider at least in the world in which they currently live. These include acute allergies, deafness (and attending a hearing school), a facial deformity, an outsized nose, extraordinary intelligence, and being African American in an all-White setting (or, at one point, the “lightest” skinned African American in an all-Black school). Altogether 22 (71%) of the teens have either a temporary or permanent mark of difference beyond being donor conceived.
Among those children who end up living in heterosexual-couple families, only one (33%) has a temporary difference and none has a permanent difference. Five of the seven children (71%) who end up living in a lesbian-couple family have some temporary mark and two (29%) have a “permanent” mark. Only one child (14%) who ends up living in a lesbian-couple family has neither type of marking. Eight (42%) of the children in books that feature a single-mother family form have a temporary marking, three (16%) have a permanent marking, and 12 (63%) have at least one form of marking. The two orphans both have temporary marks.
Marking and Endangerment
Marking and endangerment represent two different sets of problems children might have. Only five of the teens are neither marked as outsiders nor face endangerment. As is the case for each of these variables separately, the intensification of problems (i.e., experiencing both marking and endangerment) varies by family type. Children living with two heterosexual parents are most protected in both categories. Along with those children who are living as orphans at the book’s end, the children living with single parents are least protected (Table 2, Panel H).
Summary and Discussion
Limitations
The generalizability of the findings reported here is limited in three ways. First, not only is the total number of cases small, but the cases are unevenly distributed among the family forms, resulting in a very small number of heterosexual-couple families and lesbian-couple families. Second, only a very few themes were investigated; a complete thematic analysis might have considered other issues of concerns to teens such as whether the major character has special talents, takes drugs, or falls in love in the course of the book. Third, without an overview of all books written for young adults, it is hard to draw conclusions from the patterns reported here. As noted above, the donor-conceived teens in these books are presented in specific ways. They constitute a distinctive set of characters: most are girls, all are heterosexual, and over half live in a family headed by a single mother. Moreover, most experience either significant problems or danger or both. Although it seems likely that many of the problems the children in these books face (and the adventures they have) are typical of teens and are at the root of problem books in general, it is hard to know for certain whether being donor-conceived presents such problems or adventures more often or not than is the norm for this genre. That is, the findings cannot tell us whether donor-conceived teens are presented differently from “naturally” conceived teens in young adult, problem fiction.
The Achievements of the Presentation of Donor Conception
A recent review of YAL books concerning adoption reveals a literature is “rife with negative stereotypes, including adoption as a shameful secret, a problem to be solved, or a legally suspect event” (Parsons et al., 2017, p. 70). By way of contrast, within the books included in this analysis, donor conception itself is often “normalized.” That is, being donor-conceived does not dictate the plot in the majority of these books. In fact, many of these books with heterosexual-couple parents and lesbian-couple parents make little “fuss” about donor conception: a parent (or parents) “just happens” to rely on a sperm donor. This representation of donor conception could be considered a great achievement for four reasons. First, donor conception is simply presented as a viable way to have a child and not as something strange or dangerous. Second, until recently single mothers were highly stigmatized (Nelson, 2005; Silbergleid, 2002; Zadeh & Foster, 2016). However, in these books the actions of single mothers, although occasionally criticized, are more often shown to have emerged out of brave and loving motives. Third, both single mothers by choice and lesbian couples having children are in and of themselves relatively new phenomena (Hertz, 2006; Mamo & Alston-Stepnitz, 2015); their presence in so many books helps introduce readers to those living arrangements. Finally, readers might casually receive a bit of information about reproduction not usually included in a typical “sex education” class where the curriculum is largely concerned with preventing heterosexual intercourse or protecting adolescents from its consequences (Bay-Cheng, 2003; McNeill, 2013). For example, they might learn that men can be infertile because of a childhood illness like mumps. Or they might learn that sperm can be purchased and that people buying sperm can select particular features (e.g., eye color, cello playing). Thus, they learn not only that there is more than one way to make a baby but also that for some people donor conception is a perfectly ordinary part of life.
Variations in the Presentation of Donor Conception
As noted in the introduction, the data on psychosocial well-being show no differences among donor-conceived children by family form. Yet within the books included here, the consequences of being donor conceived appear to depend on the kind of family into which one is born or is now living. For the most part, among books with single mothers, the children are neither anxious about, nor consumed by, the issue of their donor conception. Some of them yearn for a father, but most of them focus on other issues in their daily lives. And this is true of both boys and girls. Again, this finding alone is significant given how frequently scholars argue that children need two (opposite sex) parents and especially how often scholars argue that boys need fathers (Biblarz & Stacey, 2010; Blankenhorn, 1995; Popenoe, 1996).
Even so, in books featuring a single-mother family, the teens do pay a price for their mothers’ actions in terms of some marking as an outsider, some moment of endangerment, or both. There is a duality here. On the one hand, as noted, although some single mothers are criticized for being too arrogant (thinking they can handle child rearing themselves) or careless (ignoring what might be the consequences of their actions), the single mothers are also depicted as if their longing to have a child and their decision to do so independently make sense in a world where women do not necessarily find heterosexual partners (or heterosexual partners interested in being fathers) before their biological clocks run out. On the other hand, the independent actions of single mothers appear to place their children at risk (and the women themselves at risk of losing their children), suggesting that they misjudged their competence and underestimated the potential problems.
Only one of the children living with a single mother dies; the others who have problems or face dangers are “rescued” and brought back into health and well-being. Interestingly, in several of these cases, the rescue occurs in the presence of, or in conjunction with being close to a man who is father-like even if he is not either the biological or the social father (although in one case he is the unacknowledged biological father and in one case he might become the social father). Traditional gender roles are thus both undermined (i.e., the women have their own careers and support themselves) in some cases and reinforced (i.e., a strong man is necessary to rescue a child from danger) in other cases. Representations of single mothers relying on donor conception in popular films frequently assume the probability of a heterosexual romance at some point in the lives of those women (Maher, 2014; Nelson, 2014). Both sets of representations—in the YAL books and the popular films—suggest that in the long run single mothers might be better off with a man if not for their own sake, for the sake of their children. 9
In books where children are born into a heterosexual-couple family, donor conception means something quite different and is never taken for granted. In fact, donor conception has two sets of consequences. First, learning about their conception during adolescence can upset teens. In all four of the books in which a child is born into a heterosexual-couple family, the teen is emotionally thrown by the inadvertent disclosure of their donor conception: once they learn about their donor conception the girls in Silence Is Goldfish, Missing Me, Finding Cassidy, and Brave New Wanda all go for a frantic search for the donor. Thus, as some of the research suggested, the age at which disclosure occurs matters and later disclosure can cause a crisis (Jadva et al., 2009). 10
The other consequence has to do with fathers. In Brave New Wanda, the stepfather suggests that he believes that virility and sterility are linked: “There you go again about that damn sissy daddy of yours. . . . That wimp couldn’t even get it up. . . . They bought a guy’s sperm over there in Big D to make you, smart girl” (pp.15-16). To be sure, none of these books explicitly puts forth that belief except as something to be discredited. At the same time, in three out of four books where the father is heterosexual, he is endangered. That is, not being able to father a child is accompanied by some sort of other weakness: Wanda’s (Brave New Wanda) father has died; Madison’s (Missing Me) father has died; and the father falls ill with a terminal illness of Huntington’s chorea in Finding Cassidy. 11 The only exception is the father in Silence Is Goldfish and for some time he is at risk of losing the love of his daughter because she (mistakenly) believes that he does not truly love her.
Interestingly, although donor conception drives the plot in one book where the teen has lesbian parents and is of some significance in two others, only two books (How I Learned to Love, In Your Room) treats the lesbian-couple family structure as something that makes the children vulnerable to teasing. That is, in the majority of these books the family structure of two lesbian parents itself is largely normalized. Even so, these books suggest that although two lesbian parents can protect their children from danger and teasing, they cannot protect their children from experiencing their own outsider status—an outsider status that comes from something other than being donor conceived. That is, a high proportion of the children presented in these books as living in lesbian-couple families have some mark that makes them either a temporary or permanent “deviant.” Indeed, only one character in all of the books in this category is not marked in some way. By way of contrast, among those with single mothers, marking exists as well but in slightly lower proportions (and the marking that exists is more likely to be “temporary”). And few of the children who live with heterosexual-couple parents are marked in any way: in fact, the teens in heterosexual-couple families with both parents present are pretty “ordinary” in appearance, abilities, and social interactions.
Conclusion
Of course, adolescents are unlikely to read the entire corpus of books in which a character is donor conceived. Most are likely to pick up a single book if any at all. No matter which they choose, they will learn that donor-conceived adolescents, like other adolescents, have adventures, experience problems, and (with one exception) survive. The representations of such characters can thus be considered a sign of considerable progress insofar as they describe an aspect of life about which many might otherwise remain unaware and they present it as a “normal” fact of life, as something to be taken for granted.
However, depending on which book is read, the specific messages will be somewhat different. To be sure, any internal comparisons among the books considered here are suggestive at best. Nevertheless, at present it seems that donor conception is treated as a phenomenon with consequences that vary with family type. For those born into or raised in heterosexual-couple families, donor conception transmutes into some form of danger for a father and, following inadvertent disclosure, some crisis for a child during adolescence. For children in other family forms, donor conception has the consequences of creating danger (children in single-mother families) or giving rise to some kind of marking as an outsider (children in lesbian-couple families). Thus, no matter what the family form is, as a body of literature, these books suggest that relying on donor conception might open up a raft of problems that would not necessarily be the case were the children conceived in a more “traditional” manner.
As noted, donor conception itself can be read two ways in regard to the broad cultural question of the significance of genetic bonds: Parents deem the genetic connection important enough to desire that link to a child and the same parents deem the genetic connection to be of such minimal importance that it does not matter that the child does not have a social bond with the genetic father. In all but one of these books, the mother is deeply bound to her child (and vice versa). The authors make no stated assessment of whether that bond results from the genetic connection or not. Therefore, readers can assume whatever it is they are inclined to assume about the cause of the attachment between mother and child. The meaning of the genetic connection to the absent “father” is addressed more often. But no single orientation emerges in this corpus: in some books, donor-conceived children become attached to an identified donor “father” (and the donor “father” to them); in other cases even when an donor is identified, no attachment ensues. The same ambiguity exists vis-à-vis donor siblings: loving attachments are more likely than not in these books but they do not inevitably emerge. The books, however, are considerably clearer about the strength of social ties. The donor-conceived children in these books are deeply bound to their social parents (whether those are mothers or fathers) and to the members of the broad kin (and nonkin) networks with whom their families interact. Social parents (with the exception of one stepfather) also become attached to children with whom they live but with whom they have no genetic tie. And, in many of these books, other adults who are not in parental relationships with donor-conceived children become attached to—and take excellent care of—them as well. In short, taken as a whole, these books advocate for interaction and caregiving rather than genetic connection as what makes for meaningful and loving bonds.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
The author wishes to thank Patricia Sarles for her significant work, Claudia Cooper for her help with YAL, and the many insightful reviewers of article in its earlier renditions.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
