Documente Academic
Documente Profesional
Documente Cultură
http://fty.sagepub.com/
Published by:
http://www.sagepublications.com
Additional services and information for Feminist Theory can be found at:
Subscriptions: http://fty.sagepub.com/subscriptions
Reprints: http://www.sagepub.com/journalsReprints.nav
Permissions: http://www.sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.nav
Citations: http://fty.sagepub.com/content/13/1/81.refs.html
What is This?
Corresponding author:
Laura Briggs, Women, Gender, Sexuality Studies, University of Massachusetts, Bartlett 208, Amherst, MA
01003, USA
Email: ljbriggs@wost.umass.edu
Century (2009) have begun to look at the gure of the child, children, and child-
hoods, as well as the limitations of and political investments in the notion of the
child. As Karen Dubinsky (2010) argues, childhood has a geographical dimension
as well, imagined as the superiority of the Global North countries to those in the
Global South, with their more limited opportunities for a period of innocent or
idyllic childhood. Or, on the contrary, as the critique would have it, childhood is a
period of repression and silencing (especially in schools), of pain, futility, and
responding to violence and indierence (including in the context of sexual abuse).
Yet feminist silence on adoption is much more than a lacuna in thinking about
children; it is also part of a struggle to theorise poverty and precarity and the
stratication of reproduction including the birthing and raising of children and
inequalities associated with race, labour, and sexuality in a transnational context.
Adoption takes place almost exclusively in one direction, from poor countries to
wealthy ones, or within nations, from impoverished or otherwise vulnerable women
and girls to wealthier, more secure ones. Adoptees do not long remain children, and
the web of intimate but unequal relationships in which adoption is embedded
implicates them and their kin throughout the life course.
In some cases, national and international level feminist groups have supported
the needs and demands of impoverished mothers, as we hear about in the context
of Brazil in Andrea Cardarellos contribution here. We can think of other exam-
ples; in the United States, when the National Organization for Women and the
Feminist Majority Foundation lobbied vigorously against the 1996 welfare
reform measures that removed most federal supports from impoverished mothers,
and the ensuing Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF) legislation
which made it dramatically easier for them to lose their children (Scales, 1996;
Smith, 2007). Smaller, less well-known groups or those not usually considered
in the history of feminism also organised to defend the rights of birth mothers.
In Wake Up Little Susie and Beggars and Choosers (1992, 2002), historian Rickie
Solinger related the history of Concerned United Birthmothers (CUB), a group
founded in the 1970s by women who, as teens or young adults, had been com-
pelled to hide their pregnancies and relinquish their babies. At about the same
time, the National Association of Black Social Workers, in the context of wide-
spread demonisation of unmarried Black mothers notably by the Moynihan
Report, took a stand to combat what some were calling the browning of child
welfare, as more and more Black children were being taken into foster care.
Where do Black children belong, the group asked. In Black families, in
their myriad forms, from extended families to single mothers, they answered
(Briggs, 2009).
Just as often, however, as we hear in Claudia Fonsecas contribution here, fem-
inists have failed to rally to the cause of birth mothers. For example, Solingers
sympathetic account of CUB merited a startlingly hostile response from Carol Joe
in Womens Review of Books that seemed to endorse the taking of children by the
foster care system or the social workers whom CUB had characterised as coercive,
by suggesting that the best interests of children might be irreconcilably dierent
from the needs and desires of their birth mothers: An eective adoption system is
an essential part of a good society, wrote Joe:
Adoption by its very nature typically brings some combination of pain and loss as well
as joy and peace to all involved in the adoption triangle of birthmother, child and
adoptive parents. What is best for the adoptive child may not be best for the birth-
mother and vice versa. Diering at times, irreconcilable interests are at play
in adoption. (Joe, 19: 2001)
informal foster parents of their children, and hence not, by many peoples deni-
tions, mothers at all. Diana Marre situates the problem of feminist adoption
research in the middle of what we might call the second generation of feminisms
reproductive crises: feminists in Spain may have won the ght for entry into good,
well-paying jobs but only at the considerable cost of remaining childless, or delay-
ing childbirth until the period of reduced fertility. Chantal Collard sketches out a
research problem for feminists related to adoption: how do we think about the
complex and unpredictable ways that a project of the US anti-feminist, anti-
abortion Christian Right, the sharing of extra frozen embryos (snowakes),
gets taken up by women who want to get pregnant? How do donors and recipients
discourses about embryos exceed and evade the anti-abortion intent of the agency?
More broadly, her piece raises the complex issue of how to gure out the relation-
ships and dierences between blood kin and kinship by law and adoption is a
frozen embryo (snowake) related to a woman whose money caused it to be
produced even if the ovum was donated by someone else, as long as she gestated
its sibling? If an embryo is adopted, can a woman give birth to an adopted child?
Finally, Barbara Yngvesson extends Collards questions about reproductive col-
laboration, rather than reproductive stratication, in her inquiry into transnational
open adoptions, and asks whether they provide an opportunity for a kind of
maternal, feminist solidarity.
Researchers argue forcefully that no one in Brazil was much concerned about child
placements before the rise of international adoptions during the late 1970s and
1980s (Abreu, 2002). In this unregulated climate, a birth mother often took an
active role in deciding which couple would adopt her child. A series of laws,
starting in the 1960s, outlined principles of plenary adoption, but the process
was decentralised, often in the hands of hospital personnel or society ladies
who doubled as charity workers. Only after newspapers began to carry stories
on the adoption of Brazilian children by foreigners presented as an aront to
national honour did the countrys power-holders resolve to tighten controls,
centralising procedures in the juvenile courts. The inuential judiciary was, at
the time, overwhelmingly male and, as some observers would suggest (Abreu,
2002), their attentions were originally focussed not so much on the best interests
of the child as on the need to exact respect from foreign adopters. Ironically, in
centralising adoption procedures within the courts, the judicial services not only
eliminated abuse by foreign adopters, but also severely curtailed birth mothers
participation in decisions concerning their childrens fate. While introducing
reforms such as the irrevocable and all-inclusive integration of the child into his
or her adoptive family, plenary adoption eectively banished the birth mother from
all decision-making processes, precluding any possibility of information about or
contact with her child.
Brazilian feminists were, at the time, by no means idle. However, their energies
were being channelled elsewhere. Bolstered to a great extent by overseas support
groups such as the Ford Foundation, they had forged a stronghold for human rights
during the military dictatorship (196478). After the return to democracy, members
of this movement, well articulated within international networks, gained political
clout within the new democratic processes. They were able to bring to public atten-
tion pressing issues concerning reproductive health, domestic violence, and unequal
wages. Although a strong conservative lobby in Congress prevented them from
successfully revising restrictive laws on abortion, feminists played a central role in
promoting public health policies that, alongside making birth control safe and acces-
sible, brought dramatic decreases in the rates of maternal and infant mortality.
Feminists in Brazil have generally worked on universalist premises that promote
the rights of all women, regardless of class, colour, age, etc. However, they have not
been indierent to the tremendous inequality that creates a chasm between the
daily lives of the overwhelmingly white upper classes and the generally darker-
skinned poor. Ever since the democratic reopening, feminist associations such
as SOS Mulher have developed projects designed to combat domestic violence.
At a time when North Americans were chanting My body, my right! Brazilian
feminists were intoning Quem ama nao mata (Love does not kill). Directed away
from abortion issues by a strong Catholic lobby, Brazilians rallied around the issue
of violence against women, a subject about which there was easier unanimity.
Although this movement took much of its inspiration from the highly publicised
case of a white socialite killed by her well-o lover (Grossi, 1993), most outreach
projects were geared to lower-income women who did not always respond posi-
tively to the kind of feminist rhetoric that was deployed. The evident paternalism of
programmes involving the rote application of idealised middle class values inspired
a great deal of self-reection among feminist scholars and their activist counter-
parts (Bonetti, 2001) fuelling debates that would nd an echo in the NorthSouth
conicts voiced during the UN World Conferences on Women in Vienna, Cairo,
Beijing and Durban.
In Brazil, where feminists and childrens rights activists have carved out separate
niches, debates about the adoption of children have been relegated to the eld of
child welfare. Birth mothers, basically ignored by feminists, have thus become
adjuncts to the best interests of the child. Certainly, there has been ample self-
reection in the eld of child welfare, with the major professional groups jurists,
psychologists and social workers each airing their particular views. Birth parents
were to either give their consent or be stripped of parental authority before their
children could become available for adoption. The worry that poor families might
lose their children because of sheer class prejudice took legislative form in the 1990
Childrens Code, in a clause stating that no parents could be deprived of their
children simply because of poverty. Nonetheless, the government was slow in
enacting measures that would provide poverty-stricken families with viable alter-
natives, other than adoption, to assure their childrens well-being. In the past few
years, renewed emphasis on the principle of family preservation (convivencia famil-
iar), as well as unied and amplied subventions to lower-income mothers, appear
to have brought timid advances.
Yet there is an increasingly clamorous lobby of potential adopters who openly
express their impatience with what they see as palliative measures measures that
simply delay the inevitable, obliging children to deal for years with inadequate homes
and incompetent parents, until they nally become available for adoption. The
Adoption Bill, passed in July of 2009 by the Brazilian Congress, like its North
American counterpart, foresees a relatively short period for children in publicly
funded shelters, after which time they can be declared available for adoption.
Nowhere does one encounter innovations that might appeal to birth parents, such
as introducing variants of open adoption or developing services aimed at facilitating
communication and possible contact between the adoptee and his or her birth family.
A number of hypotheses come to mind that might explain why the mothers
cause has never come to public attention. First, feminists (as well as jurists and
legislators) are much more likely to be (or count among their friends) adoptive
mothers than birth mothers. This identication is bolstered by a second pertinent
trend the tendency to rely on simplied technical knowledge produced largely by
psychologists to justify class-bound beliefs about family and motherhood (for crit-
ical reviews, see Eyer, 1992; Davis, 1999). Interestingly enough, thanks to the
eorts of gay rights activists, discussions on reproductive rights have recently
been broadened to contemplate the parenthood of same-sex couples. Hence, in
some instances, conventional family norms have been adjusted to permit a
childs legal adoption by a homosexual couple (Zambrano et al., 2007).
Nonetheless, there has been no public discussion that might challenge the total
exclusion of birth parents from information or decision-making processes sur-
rounding their childs adoption. In this forum, class aliation appears to be a
greater obstacle than sexual orientation.
Nowhere in these debates does one nd the birth mothers collective voice. Just as
in the case of under-age children, there may be well-intentioned tutelary forces trying
to protect the interests of this vulnerable (i.e. poverty-stricken) category. And some
birth parents make it to court to protest against their childs adoption by another
family. However, there has been nothing comparable to the birth mother movements
found in North America, in which beginning in the 1970s women who lost their
children in adoption banded together to exert political pressure to change laws, open
registers, and guarantee some rights to information and/or contact with their o-
spring (Solinger, 2002; Carp, 2004). In Brazil, there has never been a durable move-
ment of birth parents, with or without feminists. The one eeting movement, formed
at the end of the 1990s in protest against a particularly abusive judge, petered out
after a year and a half (Cardarello, 2009). Women who lose their children to adop-
tion are, with very few exceptions, miserably poor; many are aicted with ill health;
their lack of literacy skills hampers their ability to defend themselves in court.
A far cry from the neoliberal citizens ready to rally around a common cause envi-
sioned in contemporary theories of participatory democracy, birth mothers in coun-
tries such as Brazil will have to be met with new circumstances before they nd an
outlet for their collective voice.
Between 1992 and 1998, approximately 480 children were adopted in Itagua (a
ctitious name), a town in the State of Sao Paulo, Brazil. About 200 of them were
adopted internationally. A single judge and a single state prosecutor authorised all
these adoptions. In 1998 some twenty lower-class families formed The Movement
of the Mothers of the Courthouse Square to demand a review of the judicial pro-
cedures that had resulted in their childrens adoptions.
After reading about these events in a Brazilian magazine, I went to Sao Paulo in
October 2000 to carry out eldwork among the families who participated in the
Movement (Cardarello, 2009). The groups name, The Movement of the Mothers
of the Courthouse Square, alludes to the Madres de Plaza de Mayo movement in
Argentina and was inspired by the tried-and-true formulas adopted by those
Argentinean protesters, as well as the powerful symbol of motherhood. This
name, however, does not accurately reect the composition of this Brazilian asso-
ciation. Indeed, not only mothers participated in the Movement; grandparents,
aunts and uncles had also joined it. The presence of other relatives showed that
the best description of the Movement was that it was composed of extended fam-
ilies of lower-class origin.
Another signicant component of the Movement was the famlias de criacao.
Kinship studies carried out among the lower classes of Brazil have brought out the
importance of famlias de criacao, a kinship system that corresponds to fosterage
(Goody, 1971; Cardoso, 1984; Lallemand, 1993; Fonseca, 2002b). It is not uncom-
mon for children to circulate between dierent family milieus (the homes of grand-
mothers, other relatives, close friends, or neighbours), a practice that makes several
adults responsible for raising the child. These children may speak of having two or
more mothers, even when their biological mothers have maintained a relationship
with them. Usually, there is no secret of origins in these arrangements: without
any intervention from the courts, agencies, social workers or psychologists, parents
place their children in families that they know. That said, some of the Itagua
children placed for adoption by the judicial system had been living with grandpar-
ents or other extended family members, while others were living with famlias de
criacao who were not necessarily biologically related to them.
Despite the dominant discourse prioritising blood ties, criacao families have a
rmly rooted place within the system. In the Movement, no one contested the
criacao mothers and fathers right to declare themselves the parents of children
who had been removed and placed in adoptions, whether they had been raising the
children for a few months or for six or seven years. It is relevant that the
Movements rst president was a mae de criacao (foster mother) with no biological
relationship to her child. Nevertheless, biological mothers occupy a privileged
status in the kinship representations of the lower classes, as in Brazilian society
as a whole the two family members asked to testify at the Senate hearings were
both biological mothers.
Given the characteristics of the Movement and the kinship congurations of
lower-class families in Brazil, from the time I started my research I resisted focus-
sing my attention on the literature about motherhood and social movements. The
plenary adoptions imposed in these cases not only cut all ties between children and
biological mothers, they also removed them from an extended kin network, includ-
ing biological fathers, criacao parents, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles and grand-
parents biological and de criacao.2 I hoped that discussing not only mothers but
families would contribute to bringing the existence and the importance of extended
kinship networks barely mentioned in records of the procedures of termination of
parental authority or in the literature on adoption out of the shadows.
In the late 1990s, the Human Rights Commission of the Legislative Assembly of
Sao Paulo and a parliamentary inquiry commission of the Federal Senate produced
two reports denouncing procedural irregularities in the adoptions of the children of
the families protesting. According to these reports, in more than one case, allega-
tions of child abuse and abandonment that were the basis for the process of the
termination of parental rights had never been proven. Moreover, after the children
had been taken from their families, several family members went to the court to
search for them or to obtain information. Although the courts thus had personal
contact information for these families, they did not have a baili summon them to
court to defend themselves but instead published a public notice summons (edital)
in a legal gazette, as if the families addresses were unknown. When families were
aware the process of the termination of parental rights had begun, the court refused
to provide the families with any information whatsoever; they were simply advised
to nd a lawyer. The cost of a private lawyer was, of course, prohibitive and no one
at the court informed the parents that they were eligible for legal aid.
An analysis of the les and interviews with the families reveals that the families
in these cases were accused of lacking the means (falta de condicoes) to bring up
their children. In court, they were told they had to full certain conditions such as
getting a job or moving to a dwelling with more than one room, and were some-
times misled into believing that, if they complied, their children would be returned
to them. The court set unrealistic deadlines to meet these conditions a few days, in
some cases. Moreover, according to the testimony in the report by the Legislative
Assembly, some better-o members of these families went to court to declare their
willingness to look after the children, but this fact was never recorded and is absent
from the case les. In spite of the inquiries and the creation of the Movement by the
families of origin and the media attention that ensued, the judge responsible was
Spain has the highest adoption rate in the European Union, and the second highest
in the world, behind the United States. The most common explanation for this
hinges on Spains low birth rate it has declined from the highest in the EU in 1978
(2.8 children per woman) to the lowest in 1995 (1.17). These dramatic demographic
shifts are often attributed to feminisms legislative successes the legalisation of
abortion, contraception, voluntary sterilisation, and divorce since 1978. In this
piece, I will argue that the sharply declining birth rate should, on the contrary, be
attributed to the nature of womens unequal and discriminatory incorporation into
the Spanish labour market. Yet while feminists cannot be blamed for this shift, they
have only unevenly taken it on as an issue.3
As Valiente points out, economic and familial equality between men and women
have not been amongst the highest priorities of the Spanish feminist movement:
In Spain, women and young people have the highest rate of unemployment, the
worst type of jobs and the lowest salaries, with young women facing a double
disadvantage. The average dierence in salary between men and women at the
same jobs is around twenty-six per cent. Young women have much higher rates
of unemployment (El Periodico, 24 July 2009). One study pointed out that sixty
per cent of Spanish women think they need to leave the paid labour force either
temporarily or permanently when they have children, a number that increases to
seventy per cent among women between the ages of thirty and thirty-nine
(Delgado, 2007).
In short, the conditions under which women are incorporated in the labour
market demand that they delay maternity, thus producing a structural infertility,
which is resolved through assisted reproduction or transnational adoption. The
demand for assisted reproductive technology (ART) treatments has tripled in the
past ve years amongst women described as economically independent, with a
medium/high income rate and with a stable professional life (El Periodico,
5 August 2009). International adoption is likewise part of a strategy of delaying
childbearing until women are established in their careers. Unfortunately, there do
not seem to be other options on the feminist and/or labour movement agenda.
While in other countries feminist movements have fought for womens right to
motherhood, this has not been the case in Spain. Valiente (2003: 288) attributes
this to the fact that:
After almost forty years [under Franco] of being literally bombarded with the idea of
mothering and caring as the most important task in womens lives, the last thing
Spanish feminists wanted to do after the dictatorship was to pay a lot of attention
to the issues of motherhood and child rearing. Womens liberation was understood as
opening the range of concerns that dene womens lives, such as waged work, political
participation, or control of their bodies. This denition carefully eludes the place of
motherhood and child care in the life of the newly liberated Spanish women.
Even though from 1994 onwards there has been an increase in paid housekeeping
alongside the increase in womens access to the job market (El Pas, 13 March
2006), many Spanish women cannot aord the costs associated with pregnancy,
giving birth, and caring for children until they can go to school. The option of
constituting a family after a certain age became available in Spain not only because
of ART, but also as a consequence of social and economic inequalities in impov-
erished countries that provided housekeepers and nannies through international
immigration and children through transnational adoptions. The externalisation of
certain reproductive functions has increased the stratication of reproduction.
Snowflakes
Chantal Collard
Concordia University, Canada
While feminists have amply debated the right to be a mother or not in the context
of abortion, there is now an expanded interest in other kinds of reproductive rights
questions, such as those in which adoption and Assisted Human Reproduction
(AHR) techniques are embedded. These questions extend from surrogacy to
more traditional adoption. AHR techniques in recent years have complicated
this question even further through the popularisation of ova donation, surrogacy
and embryo adoption. In all these cases, reproductive rights are complex and mul-
tiple, as they involve at least two and up to three individual womens repro-
ductive rights. Such cases are crucial for feminists because they force us to look not
only at reproductive justice for women but also at reproductive justice between
women. In my earlier work on international adoption from Haiti, I found
Colens framework (1995) of stratied reproduction useful, as it focuses on how
one womans possession of reproductive choice might actually exploit another
womans reproductive vulnerability.
My current work is on embryo adoption in California at Nightlight Christian
Adoptions, a non-prot agency that provides domestic and international adoptions
as well as embryo adoption. This research oers intriguing contrasts with a strat-
ied reproduction framework, as is shows women and families collaborating in an
open adoption process with respect to embryos, and trying to make the best of it.
The Snowakes programme allows married couples and single women
(although not LGBT couples) to adopt embryos, and works with couples from all
religious backgrounds.
Considering genetic/placing mothers, my research has documented their per-
sonal struggle with fertility issues and the costs and pain associated with the use
of AHR techniques to achieve a pregnancy. It has also showed how these women
have coped with a new type of iatrogenic reproductive crisis: what to do with
extra embryos created through IVF and cryo-preserved? Once women have
completed their families, or are too old to carry another pregnancy and raise
another child (or children, as multiples are quite common in this procedure), the
time and monetary costs of their embryo creation through IVF often lead to a
realisation that they cannot destroy nor easily donate their embryos for scientic
research. Hence, the decision to have their own embryos adopted out of the
family is hardly easy or guilt free, nor motivated solely by a concern for pro-
life politics. This study shows how placing mothers have kinned (Howell, 2006)
with their embryos, whether or not these have been created with their own
gamete or with an ovum donation, once they have carried in their womb a
child coming from the same batch of embryos. Even placing mothers who
used a donor egg felt that the gift of their donor required them not to waste
their surplus embryos by keeping them in storage, donating them to science or
destroying them, and that they have to pass on the gift to other women battling
with fertility issues.
On the side of adoptive families, while infertility is one of the reasons they
turn to embryo adoption as a last resort when other reproductive technology
avenues are either closed or unimaginable, quite a few couples decided not to
use sperm or ovum donation when one partner had fertility issues, and opted
instead for embryo adoption. They stressed that they wanted to have children,
but they did not want to go outside of the marriage by using gamete donation
and stressed how important it was for them to be on equal footing vis-a-vis
the child (It is either going to be from both of us or from neither of us).
Because mothers gestate and deliver their adopted embryos as opposed to
traditional domestic or international adoption the procedure has been called
by some researchers adoption in utero. Indeed adoptive mothers expressed
how important and joyful (and sometimes painful) the experience of the preg-
nancy was for them and how much they enjoy having children, so much so
that all of them were more than willing to make professional sacrices to
accommodate having a family.
Finally, almost all the participants in the research expressed how they were able
to cope with this delicate and dicult situation with the help of the agency, and
other women who had gone through the process themselves and were acting as
resources, to nd some peace with their grief, accommodate the wishes of the other
family and even support them in their journey through email, photos, phone calls
and even face to face encounters, while keeping their personal boundaries. Even if
it was not always easy, these women and their husbands were concerned with
ethics, fairness and safety for themselves and the children involved.
During the past decade and a half, I have been studying adoption practices involv-
ing some form of ongoing contact between adoptive children and their families
(particularly the adoptive mother), and the childs birth parent(s), birth siblings,
and extended family. I began the research focussing on birth and adoptive mothers
in the United States in the early 1990s, in the context of my own eorts to maintain
an open adoption with the birth family of my adopted son (Yngvesson, 1997).
I expanded the focus to transnational adoptees who returned to their nations of
origin as adults in the late 1990s and early 2000s and who sought to maintain
ongoing relations with their birth families after a successful search brought them
into renewed contact after periods of separation ranging from twelve to twenty
years (Yngvesson, 2010).
My interest in this issue also intersects with concerns of feminist scholarship
and activism in the area of reproductive politics (Ginsburg and Rapp, 1995;
Petchesky, 1995), specically in the context of considerations of stratied
reproduction (Colen, 1995) and its implication for womens lives. There is a
signicant, and growing, adoption literature touching on these themes (work
published in English includes Kligman, 1995; Fonseca, 2002a, 2005, 2009;
Johnson, 2002, 2004; Roberts, 2002; Yngvesson, 2002; Marre and Briggs,
2009). This literature stands in stark contrast to the central concerns of
most adoption professionals, which focus on keeping adoptions clean (no
money should be exchanged for the child), moving children expeditiously
from orphanage or foster family to a permanent adoptive family, and balanc-
ing the tensions of nding families for children rather than children for fam-
ilies. While adoption organisations have increasingly become engaged in
promoting heritage tours to countries that send children into adoption and
facilitating searches for birth kin in transnational adoptions, their central
role is in arranging for the placement of a child in a permanent family, a
goal that is endorsed by the 1993 Hague Convention on Intercountry
Adoption and by laws in sending and receiving States.
My focus in this article is on omissions and blind spots implicit in the concept of
family permanence, when the permanent family with resources to adopt a child is
compared to what is often a motherchild dyad in a population that is living in a
These pieces make real contributions to sketching feminist issues related to trans-
national adoption. Specically, I would like to address three key theoretical issues
they raise. First, Cardarello asks us to notice how the Mothers of the Courthouse
Square in Brazil (like Sobreviventes in Guatemala, which began as a movement
against child sexual abuse and has become a mothers protest against illicit adop-
tion and kidnapping) are consciously echoing the Madres de Plaza de Mayo. The
latter group, and to a lesser extent, the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo, which split o
from the Madres, have inspired extensive feminist scholarship about women,
mothers, and human rights protest in Argentina. Throughout Latin America, the
Madres motivated others to demand that repressive governments return their forc-
ibly disappeared children and relatives. In Mexico, Guatemala, and elsewhere, this
tradition has been taken up by the movement against femicide, which, under the
umbrella of being mothers, has demanded an end to the murder of women by
calling on police and civil society actors. There is a surprising gap, though why
have we not theorised these political ways of being mothers in relation to
reproduction?
Second, to repeat the question of anti-sterilisation movements in the 1970s,
Fonseca invites us to ask, why is abortion the reproductive rights issue, to the
exclusion of supporting the eorts of women to become, or remain, mothers?
Or, to pose the question in Yngvessons or Collards terms, how do we tentatively
describe alliances between adoptive and birth families and embryo-producing and
embryo-implanting women or couples, in the context of a globally stratied repro-
duction, on the one hand, and the sharply ideological pro-natalism of evangelical
Christianity, on the other? Control over ones body may be the indispensible right,
the right that makes all other rights possible, as Solinger has argued (2002), but
control over ones life and labour is hardly insignicant and control over chil-
dren, including newborns (and embryos?), is certainly life and labour. Feminists
have long commented that opponents of abortion lose interest in mothers and their
ospring as soon as the baby is born, but cannot that charge be levelled with some
justice at feminists as well? If adoption is not a simple story about nding homes
for institutionalised children and these perspectives from Brazil and Guatemala
should give lie to that belief then it is, as Joe suggested in response to Solinger,
about two mothers. There is a birth mother who some say is not oering her child
the best possible life, and an actual or potential adoptive mother. This question is
simplied when the birth mother does not want to or is certain she cannot raise the
baby, but even then, it takes particular and extreme precarity poverty and
absence of family or community key among them or, more likely, powerlessness
in relation to state or private actors that purport to know best for the child. Is it the
case, as Fonseca suggests, that it is primarily a lack of cross-class knowledge,
familiarity, and solidarity that has resulted in the failure of some feminists to attend
to the claims of birth mothers that they were losing their children against their will?
Yngvesson oers an important counter-weight, and, together with Collard, holds
out an interesting and hopeful alternative of reproductive alliances.
The third and nal issue I want to highlight here as a problem for feminist
theorising is the relationship between the o shoring of production and reproduc-
tion. Marre calls our attention to the way the conditions of professional work in
particular have changed almost not at all in response to the massive entry of
women. While Spain may be, as Marre argues, an extreme case, a variant of her
argument would be true across the US and, increasingly, much of the EU and
Canada it is absurdly dicult to combine childrearing and paid labour. Marre
suggests in an argument that can also be made in parallel for the US (Briggs,
2010) that the massive expansion in the use of ARTs and transnational adoption
among those with access to advanced education and professional jobs is a result of
the structural infertility induced by the unyielding nature of regimes of education
and labour that demand that women in particular delay reproduction until such
time as they are relatively established in a career. Together, these three questions
call out for robust, morally hard-edged, compassionate, and above all feminist,
theory, activism, and scholarship that rejects the conceit that children available
for adoption are orphans in any conventional sense of that term and takes seri-
ously the ways their mothers lives are shaped by forces that are producing poverty
and precarity (and fathers, but mostly mothers). As Collard and Yngvesson sug-
gest, too, we need ne-grained tools ethnography, archives, long periods of time
to understand the multiple layers and complexities of alliance and alienation that
shape the politics of raising children that might, under a dierent set of circum-
stances, be understood to be someone elses.
Notes
1. Held 1113 June, 2009 and sponsored jointly by the Departamento de Psicologia do
Universidade do Estado do Rio de Janeiro e departamentos de Antropologia Social da
Universidade Federal do Rio Grande do Sul e da Universidade Federal do Rio de Janeiro
(Department of Psychology at the Rio de Janeiro State University, and departments of
Social Anthropology at the Federal University of Rio Grande do Sul and the Federal
University of Rio de Janeiro).
2. In Brazil the only legal adoption is plenary adoption; there is no simple or open adoption.
3. The research for this contribution was done in the context of a research project financed
by the Spanish Ministry of Science and Innovation on transnational adoption in Spain
(MICINNCSO2009-14763-C03-01 subprograma SOCI).
4. See Graff (2008) for a discussion of manufactured orphans.
References
Abreu D (2002) No bico da cegonha: Historias de adocao e da adocao internacional no Brasil.
Rio de Janeiro: Relume Dumara.
Global Inequalities and the Circulation of Children. New York: New York University
Press, 154173.
Fundacion Sobrevivientes (n.d.) Three Days, Three Daughters. Available at: http://www.so-
brevivientes.org/ (accessed 31 August 2009).
Gentleman, A. (2008) India Nurtures Business of Surrogate Motherhood, New York Times,
10 March, A9.
Ginsburg F and Rapp R (1995) Conceiving the New World Order: The Global Politics of
Reproduction. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Goody E (1971) Forms of Pro-parenthood: The Sharing and Substitution of Parental
Roles. In: J Goody (ed.) Kinship: Selected Readings. London: Penguin Books,
331345.
Graff E J (2008) The Lie We Love, Foreign Policy, November/December, 5866.
Grossi MP (1993) De Angela Diniz A Daniela Perez: Uma Trajetoria de Impunidade?.
Revista Estudos Feministas 1(1): 166168.
Hague Convention (1993) Hague Conference on Private International Law, Final Act of the
Seventeenth Session, 29 May 1993, 32 I.L.M. 1134.
Hochschild AR (2000) Global Chains of Care and Emotional Surplus Value. In: Hutton W
and Giddens A (eds) Global Capitalism. New York: New Press, 130146.
Hondagneu-Sotelo P (2001) Domestica: Immigrant Workers Cleaning and Caring in the
Shadows of Affluence. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Hondagneu-Sotelo P and Avila E (1997) Im Here, But Im There: The Meanings of
Latina Transnational Motherhood. Gender and Society 11(5): 548571.
Howell S (2006) The Kinning of Foreigners: Transnational Adoption in a Global
Perspective. New York: Berghahn Books.
Joffe C (2001) Choosing Choice. Womens Review of Books 19(2): 1819.
Johnson K (2002) Politics of International and Domestic Adoption in China. Law &
Society Review 36(2): 379396.
Johnson K (2004) Wanting a Daughter, Needing a Son: Abandonment, Adoption, and
Orphanage Care in China. St. Paul, MN: Yeong & Yeong.
Kligman G (1995) Political Demography: The Banning of Abortion in Ceausescus
Romania. In: FD Ginsburg and R Rapp (eds) Conceiving the New World Order: The
Global Politics of Reproduction. Berkeley: University of California Press, 234255.
Lallemand S (1993) La circulation des enfants en societe traditionnelle. Pret, don, echange.
Paris: LHarmattan.
Liem DB (dir.) (2000) First Person Plural [Film]. Ho-Ho-Kus, NJ: Mu Films.
Marre D and Briggs L (2009) International Adoption: Global Inequalities and the Circulation
of Children. New York: New York University Press.
ODonovan K (2002) Real Mothers for Abandoned Children. Law & Society Review
36(2): 347377.
Oreskovic J and Maskew T (2008) Red Thread or Slender Reed: Deconstructing Prof.
Bartholets Mythology of International Adoption. Buffalo Human Rights Law Review
147: 71128.
Parrenas R (2001) Servants of Globalization: Women, Migration, and Domestic Work. Palo
Alto: Stanford University Press.
Petchesky R (1995) The Body as Property: A Feminist Re-vision. In: FD Ginsburg and
R Rapp (eds) Conceiving the New World Order: The Global Politics of Reproduction.
Berkeley: University of California Press, 387406.
Prebin E (2009) Looking for Lost Children in South Korea. Adoption & Culture 2(1):
227263.
Ragone H and Twine FW (2000) Ideologies and Technologies of Motherhood: Race, Class,
Sexuality, Nationalism. New York: Routledge.
Roberts D (2002) Shattered Bonds: The Color of Child Welfare. New York: Basic Books.
Sanger C (1996) Separating from Children. Columbia Law Review 96: 375441.
Scales A (1996) Clinton to Sign Welfare Bill into Law, Boston Globe, 22 August, p. A23.
Smith AM (2007) Welfare Reform and Sexual Regulation. New York: Cambridge University
Press.
Solinger R (1992) Wake Up Little Susie: Single Pregnancy and Race before Roe v. Wade.
New York: Routledge.
Solinger R (2002) Beggars and Choosers: How the Politics of Choice Shapes Adoption,
Abortion, and Welfare in the United States. New York: Hill and Wang.
Stockton KB (2009) The Queer Child, or Growing Sideways in the Twentieth Century.
Durham: Duke University Press.
Stryker R (2011) The War at Home: Affective Economics and Transnationally Adoptive
Families in the United States. International Migration 49(6): 2549.
Valiente C (2003) Central State Child Care Policies in Postauthoritarian Spain: Implications
for Gender and Carework Arrangements. Gender and Society 17(2): 287292.
Van Walsum SK (2009) Transnational Mothering, National Immigration Policy, and
European Law: The Experience of the Netherlands. In: S Benhabib and J Resnick
(eds) Migrations and Mobilities: Citizenship, Borders, Gender. New York: New York
University Press, 228254.
Villalta C (2009) Entregas directas o adopcion institucional. Dilemas y debates sobre la
adopcion de ninos en Argentina, unpublished paper delivered at the Latin American
Studies Association annual meeting, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
Volkman TA (2005) Cultures of Transnational Adoption. Durham: Duke University Press.
Yngvesson B (1997) Negotiating Motherhood: Identity and Difference in Open
Adoptions. Law & Society Review 31(1): 3180.
Yngvesson B (2002) Placing the Gift Child in Transnational Adoption. Law & Society
Review 36(2): 227256.
Yngvesson B (2004) National Bodies and the Body of the Child: Completing Families
through International Adoption. In: F Bowie (ed.) Cross-Cultural Approaches to
Adoption. New York: Routledge, 211226.
Yngvesson B (2005) Going Home: Adoption, Loss of Bearings, and the Mythology of
Roots. In: T Volkman (ed.) Cultures of Transnational Adoption. Durham: Duke
University Press, 2548.
Yngvesson B (2010) Belonging in an Adopted World: Race, Identity, and Transnational
Adoption. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Zambrano ER Lorea L Mylius N Meinerz and P Borges (2007) O direito a homoparenta-
lidade: cartilha sobre as famlias constitudas por pais homossexuais, Porto Alegre:
Instituto de Acesso a Justica.