When Identity Begins to Speak: A Young Woman’s Search for Identity

By J. J. Alexander

As soon as she is adopted, seven-year-old Hannah begins struggling with her identity. After spending her early life yearning for her adoptive mother’s love and dealing with her adoptive father’s deception, Hannah matures into a young woman who seeks a better life. Unfortunately, she carries many wounds and scars instigated by abuse.

During Hannah’s years in college and law school, she becomes a civil and women’s rights activist. After she falls for a white student, name Daniel, she quickly realizes that interracial love is not accepted in America. When the mystery of her identity suddenly reveals itself on her birth certificate, Hannah is led to the crossroads of her family roots where she must determine the identity of her birth parents, contemplate whether they will accept her, and decide whether to visit her birth mother’s birthplace. To complicate matters, Hannah’s one true love, Brian, suddenly comes looking for her. Now only time will tell if she will ever find the answer to the crucial question: Who am I?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Jul 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665706100

J. J. Alexander

J. J. Alexander is a retired attorney. After earning an undergraduate degree in sociology and a Juris Doctorate, she became a prosecutor. Alexander has traveled to eighteen nations around the globe learning about people and other cultures. She is married with five children and enjoys writing about history and current events.

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Copyright © 2021 J. J. Alexander.

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except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

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ISBN: 978-1-6657-0611-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-0609-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6657-0610-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2021908340

Archway Publishing rev. date: 7/28/2021

Acknowledgements

Family: To my husband Caleb Baruch, for his unwavering loyalty and support. Your encouragement and love gave me the strength to dive into the depths of writing about the complexities of identity. I thank all my children for teaching me about their worldview through the lens of justice, family life, and truth.

The Influential Women in My Life:

M Friedson: You are an example of strength, a woman that refused to give up despite the odds that were against you. You managed to discover a window of hope, and you have taught me that being thankful is the best medicine in the world.

R Leizman, Ph.D. Thank you, for your encouragement that inspired me to write When Identity Begins to Speak.

T Matthews: Strength and love have defined your beauty. Thank you for sharing your life with me.

M Berger: Your genius as a writer created for me a gateway of inspirations. Words are not enough to describe my love and respect for you and your family.

M Borden: You inspired me to write about the life of Hannah even when my head space was full of doubts. Thank you. I know for certain that your kindness is genuine and powerful. You can motivate the most fainthearted among us.

A Siegel: Your quiet strength speaks volumes. Because of you, I am reminded of the daily meditations as a necessary activity to grow in my spiritual journey.

J Goldfarb: You are a friend that I take comfort in being myself. We love debating the world’s problems: race, gender, and religion. It has influenced my writings.

The question which most scholars in their writings suggest is what role history has played as a corrective in our modern political ideologies, religious systems, and our current culture in the United States. The following contributions of talented writers and scholars deserve credit for my personal worldview:

M Berger: Thank you for your teachings. Your love for the Torah has given me the freedom to hunger for truth. Torah has helped me to understand the lessons that I must apply in my life.

J. Soloveitchik: A genius in Jewish Law.

Elie Wiesel: Philosopher, Holocaust survivor, and writer. His scholarly writings are relevant in every generation.

Isabel Wilkerson: A writer who demolished revisionist history in her new 2020 published book, Caste. This book speaks about three different types of caste systems: African Americans, Jews, and India. Her book should be added in school libraries across America.

James Baldwin: A gifted writer that gave the world a unique perspective about race relations in American History.

Contents

Introduction

Part I

Chapter 1 The Orphanage

Chapter 2 A Relationship with Daddy

Chapter 3 The Stormy Years

Chapter 4 Developing and Questioning

Part II

Chapter 5 Leaving Home

Chapter 6 Preparing Her Future

Chapter 7 First Love

Chapter 8 Love Tested

Chapter 9 Returning Home

Part III

Chapter 10 A Confrontation with Identity

Chapter 11 The Social Worker

Chapter 12 The Family Records

Chapter 13 Meeting Uncle Adam

Chapter 14 Pursuing a Career

Part IV

Chapter 15 First Day of Law School

Chapter 16 An Unexpected Encounter

Chapter 17 Once Upon a Time

Chapter 18 Struggling to Understand Each Other

Part V

Chapter 19 The Engagement

Chapter 20 A Necessary Change for the Future

Part VI

Chapter 21 The Bar Exam

Chapter 22 An Unexpected Turn of Events

Chapter 23 The Outcome

Chapter 24 Life Moving at a Fast Pace

Chapter 25 The Nontraditional Wedding

Chapter 26 Do You Promise?

Chapter 27 The Wedding Ceremony

Chapter 28 With the Celebrations Comes Reality

Chapter 29 The Bar Results

Part VII

Chapter 30 Home and Heart

Chapter 31 Prosecutor and Motherhood

Chapter 32 The Chief Prosecutor

Chapter 33 The Prosecutor’s Office

Chapter 34 A Decision Made

Chapter 35 Staying Home

Chapter 36 Molly, the Gift of Life

Chapter 37 Molly’s Arrival

Chapter 38 Molly’s Transition

Chapter 39 Adam Josiah

Part VIII

Chapter 40 Lies and Deception

Chapter 41 Naomi’s Passing

Chapter 42 A Family Affair

Chapter 43 Judaism

Introduction

The discovery of her racial identity shook Hannah’s already-established identity. For years, she had been simply African American. Now, she was facing her real identity. She was biracial.

Over the years, Hannah had debunked the social and legal construct of the one-drop rule. Today, are young women of mixed heritage obligated to define themselves by racial and religious boundaries? Young girls like Hannah from every nation of the world have dreams tucked into their hearts. These very dreams are the tools of empowerment that live within them. These dreams are the transformative seeds that open their hearts to see their valid gifts. These dreams are the stars that shine even in the darkest corners of their lives. These dreams shape their characters, implant a driving force to fight, organize their search for truth, and implore them to ignore the negative voices around them.

Identity speaks to all areas of our lives. Thirty years later, Aunt Rachel spoke to Hannah about her Jewish identity. What happened? Hannah realized that the very notion of evolution relates to the identity that lives in all of us. What transpires when our identities become fluid and move with the existential forces we face in the outside world?

Human beings were not created to maintain a static identity status. When identity begins to speak to our inner souls, we listen. When identity begins to speak about our religion, we can choose it or reject it. When identity speaks about anti-Semitism, we can reject all its evil acts—the racism that the enemies of the Jews and African Americans have promoted throughout history. When identity speaks to us about who we should love, we are free to choose. The concepts of identity, truth, and choice are interwoven like a living tapestry.

When identity begins to speak, our decisions hang in the balance of our purpose and existence, determining whether we are true to ourselves.

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PART I

When a person is adopted and steps into another world, the

question is asked: What happens to the reality of his/her

actual existence? Years later, the ultimate truth can come forth

like a bolt of lightning. Identity can be stripped and locked up

behind closed doors. Human DNA markings are oftentimes

sealed in the graves of one’s ancestors. Does scientific research

initiate DNA as a comparative tool to a gravedigger? When the

adopted person discovers his/her ancestors through the process

of DNA research, it generates the resurrection of the dead.

Chapter 1

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The Orphanage

FOR SEVERAL YEARS DURING THEIR married life, Hannah and Brian rented an apartment in New York City during the summer months. Living in a Manhattan apartment on Sixth Avenue was perfect for Hannah. The building was hidden on a side street that was inundated with small shops, and the neighborhood had a reputation for being family friendly. Hannah, now at the mature age of forty, was sitting on the couch overlooking the busy streets. She loved this city with all its promised opportunities. She passionately believed that this town offered her the potential to actualize all her dreams. New York City was the engine that pulsated its creative energy into her soul.

Hannah closed her tired eyes. She began to reflect upon her early childhood experiences at the orphanage in which she had lived as a seven-year-old biracial child so many years ago. She recalled seeing the beautiful green grass and the flowers. She remembered the fresh, intoxicating scent of the country that filled the air. The orphanage was just outside the city limits of Boston.

Her mind contained painful memories of the next stage of her childhood journey. She felt a pinch inside her head. A headache was coming as pent-up thoughts and overlaid wounds coiled around her heart. Hannah knew she should disengage her emotions from these memories, but her intellect and her emotions were in constant battle. It was as painful as if a sharp surgical instrument were reopening the scars of her past. She also passionately believed that the battle was catapulting her growth, despite the internal pain. In many respects, the discovery of herself was the roller-coaster ride of her life. Rejection and betrayal had contributed to her self-deprecation in the earlier years of her life, but now? Hannah was ready to move forward. Would she be able to transform the pain that she had experienced in her childhood into a rational-logical framework? She strove to accept rationality as the key answer. Dismissing her emotional challenges was difficult.

Without conscious awareness, Hannah walked away from the window. She went to her small desk across the room, sat down, and stared at her laptop. Stillness filled the room. As Hannah sat in her apartment, staring at the computer screen before her, her mind overflowed with painful memories of her adoptive father. She saw visions of books filled with beautiful colors floating in the air. They looked like balloons ready for a celebration. She knew this was just her imagination. Unexpectedly, a revelation occurred in her heart that unearthed a new purpose for her personal life. She knew what she needed to do. She began furiously typing her thoughts. Words quickly appeared on the electronic paper as if they were dancing to a hip-hop song. Hannah concluded that hope, compassion, and resilience filled the balloons. She confronted the issues of her childhood with a sudden sense of bravery. She needed to face all the hurts and rejection she had experienced. She knew without a doubt that her message could resonate with people who were hurting. She made up her mind that her story could be instrumental in shedding a redemptive light over many hearts.

Smiling, Hannah began to write her story.

The Orphanage, 1948

Each season offered distinct, differing memories. Winter was charged with cold air, inviting all the children to play in the snow. Hannah watched the older children speeding down the hill with sleds, while the others threw snowballs at each other, focused on which team would win the battle. The loud laughter of children sliced the frigid air, reverberating through the countryside. Red-stained cheeks glowed on every child’s face. The children fell and rolled over each other in the snow as if they were acrobats in the circus. Hannah threw herself into the mix of activities. During recess, she did not waste any opportunity to immerse herself in all the fun. Hannah wore wool gloves, but the tips of her fingers kept getting cold.

When the younger children began to complain, it was a sign for the nuns to come and rescue them from the cold. The children ranged from three to fourteen years of age. They were brothers and sisters, and they had been taught to looked out for one another. Hannah remembered holding Rosemary’s hand; she was ten years old. Hannah looked at her as a big sister. The winter coats, hats, and gloves were secondhand clothing, donations given to the orphanage by Catholic Charities. When one child had outgrown their winter clothes, the next orphan would be wearing them. Sometimes you would find gloves or hats torn or frayed leaving holes in the fabric. Hannah went into the school building, joining the usual formation of a single line with the other younger children. As an adult, Hannah caught herself smiling, and suddenly, she burst into laughter as she recollected how the nuns always lined up the children in military style, which was an everyday routine in those days. The nuns were loving, however, they expected order and self-discipline from all the children.

On that cold winter day, all the children rushed in to gather around the fireplace in the entrance area. The heat of the fire warmed the bodies that were still shivering from the cold. In her imagination, Hannah saw the fire’s flames dancing, forming distorted images. Later, she realized that it had only been her imagination. But still. They looked so real in her mind’s eye, as if they were ready to jump out and attack her. She distanced herself from the fireplace, fearing that the flames might consume her.

Spring at the orphanage gave Hannah a sense that all life was being reborn. At age seven, she watched with curiosity at the variety of flowers blossoming into all shades of color. The flowers were nestled near the cottages, ready to say good morning to the children as they made their way to the dining hall. The vibrant colors of spring and the sounds of the wind and rain became sacred to Hannah. They became her open prayer book when she walked outside alone. Hannah loved the smell of the rain because it symbolized perfume dispersing its fragrance over the earth. Nature and God were one. In the early years of her life, nature was a phenomenon that fascinated her beyond comprehension. She always looked into the heavens, and in her childlike innocence, she seemed to connect to nature’s power and beauty. She was unable to use words to explain that aspect of creation, but she was compelled to respect the existence of nature in all its elements and grandeur. Little Hannah wondered whether she was one of those stars.

The older boys played baseball. The screaming spectators seated in the bleachers would cry out in unison, Home run! The hot summers brought out all kinds of bugs, especially mosquitoes. If you were not careful, they would feast on your flesh. At bedtime, Hannah would scratch her arms and legs, trying to get relief. In the summer, everyone at the orphanage had the opportunity to swim in the outdoor pool. This activity was the highlight of the season. Hannah loved jumping into the pool, but one day, the staff nurse diagnosed her with athlete’s foot, and she was unable to swim. Hannah sat on the sidelines, feeling sad as she watched the other children splashing in the pool. She cried even though she wanted to hide her tears, especially with the other children staring at her.

Hannah especially enjoyed playing with the large collie. With the other children, she would chase him all around the yard. Hannah vowed to herself that one day she would have her own dog. As day turned into night, she took pleasure in running to gather lightning bugs and place them in jars. Summer was an exciting time at the orphanage. New children came to replace the children who had left with their new parents. Hannah waited for her time. Would her longing for a family be realized in autumn?

Finally, fall arrived. As the green leaves on the trees turned beautiful colors, the nights became cold. Then the leaves fell, cascading into mosaic patterns on the ground. When she walked in the yard, Hannah loved to hear the leaves crunch underneath her rubber boots. The leaves sounded like musical notes formulating a song. Hannah picked up leaves from the ground, being careful to make sure that the colors of each leaf represented one of the colors of autumn. Colored leaves held in her small hands were her gifts to give away. She gave a handful to the young nun who oversaw her cottage. With anticipation, Hannah handed the sister the colorful bouquet of leaves.

The nun took them and smiled. Oh, Hannah, what a surprise! Thanks for thinking of me. She spontaneously caressed Hannah’s little face with a look of love and gratitude.

On that day, Hannah felt that the colors—the beauty—held the ingredients of a memorable experience of autumn. In all its seasons, the orphanage created wonderful memories for a little girl who hungered for parents. When she was not chosen for adoption, she felt hurt, and she sometimes cried herself to sleep. One day, Hannah would be able to call two special people her mommy and daddy. She felt a sense of being at home with all her brothers and sisters—other orphans she believed had the same desire she did: to be wanted, protected, and loved by parents. She was waiting for that day to come.

A new month arrived and with it another Sunday for prospective parents. Hannah jumped up and down with excitement. She was wearing her favorite Sunday blue dress. Her curls were flying, so she found herself repeatedly pushing her hair away from her face. The lineup of children took place once each month for potential parents to find a child who would complete their family. All the children wore their best clothes and radiated excitement, each hoping they might be the next child chosen.

Hannah smiled as her thoughts returned to a moment on that day. She was seven years old and remembered several couples who came into the reception room. All of them were white. Some of the men looked serious.

One of the couples appeared excited. With smiles, they came up to Hannah and said, What is your name, young lady, and how old are you?

Hannah said, My name is Hannah, and I am seven years old.

Rosemary, standing next to Hannah, was asked the same questions.

Some of the women wore silk dresses accessorized with matching hats and gloves. They went down the line of children.

These potential parents looked like consumers, curiously eying each child as if they were window-shopping at a mall.

All the children expressed their hopes that one set of parents would choose them.

Hannah looked at eight-year-old Johnny with his curly red hair and blue eyes. I believe I am going to have a new mommy and daddy!

Johnny giggled with excitement. Me too!

Rosemary was excited, exuding nervous energy. Is this the day I will no longer be an orphan?

All the potential parents left the room.

When the couple who had questioned Hannah returned to the room, her heart skipped with joy. She knew that she would be chosen.

When Johnny and Rosemary left the room with the first couple, Hannah was blown away with disappointment.

Johnny and Rosemary turned and waved goodbye to Hannah.

Through watery eyes, Hannah waved back. They had left her behind.

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On a Sunday afternoon the next month, Hannah fantasized herself as a princess all dressed up in her blue dress, waiting in line again to be looked over by married couples. She hoped they would choose her. She imagined that she had won the lottery, and she heard her internal voice say, You are the winner of new parents!

The director of the orphanage, Sister Celine, called Hannah to the office.

Hannah stood in the hallway.

Don’t be afraid, my child. Come near me.

Hannah shyly approached Sister Celine with her brows turned upward. Did I do something wrong? Hannah understood when children were called to the office, they were reprimanded for their behavior.

Of course not, I have some good news for you, replied the nun.

Hannah smiled with relief.

Sister Celine was the oldest nun and had been an administrator for more than thirty years. Her eyes were gray, and her skin color was hard to detect because of the many wrinkles on her face. Her smile was warm, but at times, she was stern.

When Hannah entered the room, she noticed a man sitting across from the desk. His skin color was different than the other potential parents who came every month.

The nun said, Hannah, this is Mr. Taylor. He is interested in adopting you.

Hannah looked around the room, feeling confused, and said, I’m pleased to meet you, sir.

He was alone.

When Hannah recalled that important day in her life, she saw that the most prominent feature on the man’s face was his broad smile. He looked older, not like the other young parents, and she thought, I don’t remember seeing him on the once-a-month Sunday visits. Her mind began to race. Why is he here alone? How does he know about me? Where is the lady who would be my mom?

Mr. Taylor came a second time, this time with his wife. Hannah could not remember noticing Mrs. Taylor.

Mr. Taylor smiled and said, Hannah, I want you to meet my wife, Mrs. Taylor.

Hannah responded, I am happy to meet you.

Mrs. Taylor looked frustrated and sad, and Hannah waited for Mrs. Taylor to look at her.

Mrs. Taylor forced a smile and said, Mr. Taylor told me how he met you. She stared past Hannah, and Hannah wondered whether she liked her. Hannah felt uneasy and dismayed. Her attention was on the man with the broad smile, wondering whether he would be her daddy.

The nun ordered Hannah to return to her cottage and pack her little suitcase because she would be leaving with the Taylors to spend the weekend. She jumped quickly from the chair and ran to her cottage as if she were running against Jesse Owens. When she arrived at the house, she looked up and saw her favorite nun.

The nun’s smile spoke volumes. I am here to help you pack.

Hannah asked, Can I pick out my own clothes?

The nun nodded.

Hannah picked out the clothes she wanted to take. She packed her few belongings—her little blue dress, pajamas, play clothes, and the doll that she so loved—and hugged her favorite nun. I am going to miss you!

The nun laughed. Hannah, go and enjoy yourself. I hope you like this couple. They seem interested in adopting you. As Hannah was about to leave, the nun gently grabbed her arm. Let me brush your curls back from your forehead.

They both walked out to greet the Taylors.

Hannah put herself in the back seat of their large green car, wondering if this man and woman would become her new mommy and daddy. The drive seemed so long. There were few words spoken between the couple. Hannah distinctly remembered Mr. Taylor driving on a long highway and crossing over the bridges near the railroad tracks. The neighborhood was poor, and the run-down houses needed fixing.

Finally, they arrived at an old gray house in the city, just one in many rows of homes. She was only familiar with the country, suffused with fresh air, acres of land filled with beautiful trees, and cottages surrounded by flowers of all shapes and sizes, as if God had painted them with every color of the rainbow and more. The lawns had patches of green grass, but the rest was dirt.

In the Taylors’ home, the rooms were large with minimal furniture. The furniture seemed to be old and worn. It looked nothing like the cottage she lived at the orphanage. The rooms only had one or two windows. The curtains were dusty and gray, but they must have been white at one time. Hannah thought about how the curtains at the cottage were always white. Upstairs had been converted into boarding chambers, housing a single mom and her two small sons. The Taylor family and other relatives lived in the downstairs portion of the house. Hannah did not like the house.

Mr. Taylor took Hannah’s hand and said, Hannah, I want you to meet Mrs. Taylor’s sister. Her name is Rita, and she will be your aunt one day.

Rita gave Hannah a big welcoming smile!

Hannah saw a chubby little girl with large brown eyes and small braids covering her entire head. Hannah liked her. The child’s name was Belle.

Rita said, I am so happy to meet you, Hannah. Belle and I are from Georgia. We come here every year for three weeks of vacation. For supper, I cooked a large pot of spaghetti just for you! Do you like spaghetti?

Hannah said, Yes, I do!

Hannah could not remember having any conversation on her first visit with Mrs. Taylor. Emotional hesitation covered her sad face like a mask. Hannah questioned whether this woman—the one she wanted to call Mommy one day—could love her. She gave no welcoming hugs and no warm words. She just sat, barely looking at Hannah. This haunting feeling followed Hannah for years. She longed for authentic motherly love, but it never materialized.

Three home visits were mandatory for the adoptee and the new parents.

Hannah enjoyed being with Mr. Taylor. He took extra time to make her feel at home. Mr. Taylor introduced her to the family dog, a cocker spaniel.

Hannah was not able to articulate her feelings when the nuns asked her whether she liked the couple who might adopt her.

Her favorite nun asked, How did you like being with the family?

Hannah responded, Well, I hardly see Mrs. Taylor. She works every day except for Sundays. I do not know her. She is tired all the time. Her sister, Rita, does lot of the cooking. Mr. Taylor spends time with me.

The nun frowned.

Hannah said, I will try hard to behave so that Mrs. Taylor will pay attention to me. The only thing she wanted was to have both parents love her on a permanent basis.

Months passed, and the seasons changed. The leaves fell from the large trees near each cottage.

Sister Celine summoned Hannah to the office and said, Surprise, Hannah. You will be leaving us for your new home.

Hannah said, Really?

Yes, Hannah. This is your time to be loved by a mommy and daddy. We are so happy for you, and you will be missed.

Mr. and Mrs. Taylor were walking up the walkway.

Hannah stood in disbelief. She was to have a mommy and daddy. She was excited and frightened at the same time.

The nuns hugged her and said goodbye.

Hannah sat in the back of the car and turned to look for the last time at the buildings, the cottages tucked in the landscape of autumn, and the children whom she considered her brothers and sisters.

Years later, Hannah would often call to mind those days of security. The days held memories of the children’s faces as she had once known them, now frozen in time.

Chapter 2

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A Relationship with Daddy

NINE MONTHS