Human rights going down again in New York; Sometimes anger is justified and this is one of those times!!!

Lorraine testifying in 2015

I am so f&^cking angry and upset. This is not a regular blog post but instead I want to tell you why I am so angry, Dear Reader.

Again it appears the 2018 legislative session will end in New York, and again we are getting shot down in New York--unless Joe Lentol, chair of the Codes Committee in the Assembly, is struck by thunder and enlightenment, unless the what's-in-it-for-me governor of New York, Cuomo, sees a political advantage in our bill over the next few days, our bill to end the tyranny of sealing original birth records of some people will again die.

It is a clean bill--no hide-behind-the-skirts of women in the closet bill; no, the bill, (A9959-B; and S-7631-B)) would give adopted people over 18 the right to their own birth certificates. That's all it would do. It wouldn't bomb anybody, cause panic in the streets, destroy the environment, cost an appreciable amount or anything at all,  but no, once again some people will lose out of the full freedoms that the rest of us know because we are: not adopted. 

Relinquish adoption protections--give the adopted their original records and identity!

Today when Unsealed Imitative is in New York's state capital lobbying for our bills to unseal the original birth records of adoptees, Lorraine has an Oped in the Albany Times-Union. Please leave a comment and let everyone know more than a few voices want those records open. (Note: It appears nearly impossible to leave a comment, many have tried, none have succeeded.)

When I drove into Albany pulling a U-Haul with most of my worldly possessions, I was 23, and I was already on the run from my past. I'd had a child in Rochester and given her up for adoption. Now I was desperate to keep that part of my life secret when I began my new job at the late Knickerbocker News. When the doctor giving me a physical for the company insurance asked if I'd ever been pregnant, I lied and said no. Shame surrounded me like an aura. The year was 1966. In the two years I worked at The Knick, I only revealed my secret to one friend — and then with a racing heart.

Reporter with a secret--and blown kneecap

Read the rest at 

Relinquish adoption protections