50 pages • 1 hour read
Dani ShapiroA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Secrets play a central role in Shapiro’s memoir. Paul and Irene were so traumatized by their inability to conceive that they kept their use of donor sperm secret, even from daughter and those closest to them. Paul and Irene’s secrets poisoned their marriage. Irene grew increasingly angry and narcissistic, while Paul became more depressed and physically broken. Their secrets also impacted Shapiro. As she notes, “Secrets, particularly the most deeply held ones, have a way of leaching into everything surrounding them” (226). Shapiro always sensed her parents had a secret. What she didn’t realize was that the secret was her. Learning the truth at the age of 54 devastated Shapiro and made her question her identity, but it also explained her persistent feelings of otherness.
Secrecy is central to the fertility industry. Since the mid-20th century, medical professionals have touted anonymity as the answer to the problems plaguing the fertility clinics. Anonymity attracts individuals who might not otherwise want to donate, thereby widening the genetic pool. It also protects donors from having to confront the truth that a child might be born from their genetic material. Further, anonymity protects parents who do not want outsiders intruding on their families and who often opt not to tell their children about their origins. Finally, anonymity facilitates the commodification of genetic materials, allowing sperm and eggs to be dissociated from specific individuals. For Shapiro, the secrecy and anonymity shrouding the fertility industry poses ethical problems. Donor-conceived individuals are often crushed to learn the truth about their origins. Moreover, many never identify their biological parents and thus lack important information about their medical history.
Shapiro’s identity is deeply rooted in her family, in particular with her father’s side of the family. She takes pride in her Orthodox Jewish ancestors, notably, her grandfather and uncle, who founded the Lincoln Square Synagogue and headed the Orthodox Union, respectively. She prominently displays photographs of her ancestors throughout her home. She also gives Jacob family heirlooms to celebrate his bar mitzvah to help him understand his origins. Indeed, Shapiro feels so connected to her ancestors that she refers to them as the foundation of her life and her inner compass. She has a physiological reaction every time she feels her late-father’s presence: “My dad, in particular, would come to me in an electric tingle running the length of my body. I was convinced that my father was able to reach me through time and space because of the thousands of people who connected us” (12).
Shapiro is devastated to learn the truth about her origins because she identifies so strongly with her Jewish ancestry. She grew up in an Orthodox home, spoke Hebrew as a child, and attended a yeshiva. Her connection to her father’s family is so strong she ignored all the signs she didn’t belong. She explained away her blond hair and blue eyes (which she also notes are physical features that some Jews possess, despite borderline anti-Semitic assertions to the contrary). She also brushed aside her mother’s revelation about artificial insemination. Despite Shapiro’s powerful connection to her Jewish ancestors, she feels an instant bond with Ben and his family. She recognizes herself in Ben. Moreover, he explains aspects about herself that were previously perplexing. As Shapiro notes, donating sperm is more consequential than donating an organ. Unlike a kidney or a retina, sperm is inextricably linked to identity: “[Sperm] was the passing along of an essence that was inseparable from personhood itself” (143). Shapiro is initially torn to learn that Paul is not her biological father. With the help of family, friends, and experts, however, she comes to see her complex identity in positive terms.
Shapiro interweaves memories from her childhood and formative years throughout her memoir. People often assume that Shapiro has a good memory because she recalls many conversations, moments, and sensory details from her early years. Shapiro contests this claim: “The truth is that I have a terrible memory. I struggled to access any of my childhood or even my teenage years. I had no recollection of it as a story […] Only in a state of half dreaming could I begin—and then only barely—to touch the truth” (165).
Shapiro recalls very little of her childhood, but the memories she has are strikingly relevant to her memoir. For example, in Chapter 16, she describes a gathering in her parents’ backyard when she was five or six years old. She remembers the flagstone patio being dappled in shade, the forsythia hedge spilling over the neighbor’s fence, and the adults drinking iced tea from plastic cups. She also remembers that her father wore suit pants with a shirt that was rolled at the sleeves, and that her mother served sliced brisket and cold asparagus. The key part of the memory, however, is her conversation with Mrs. Kushner, who stroked her hair and told her she would have been useful in the ghetto. In Chapter 24, Shapiro describes the photoshoot that resulted in a Kodak Christmas poster. Her memories of this event are as vivid as those of the backyard gathering. She remembers the sound of the camera’s shutter, the faint buzz of traffic coming from the street, and her mother instructing her to smile. The photoshoot and backyard gathering provide important clues about Shapiro’s identity, clues she blatantly ignored. The former made her the posterchild for a Christian holiday, while the second called attention to her blond hair and blue eyes, traits many characterize as un-Jewish.