Tia GoinsCourtesy of PBS NewsHour
In the fall of 2018, Tia Goins was a new mother in crisis, facing eviction, unable to find room in a shelter, and confronting the prospect of homelessness in a Detroit winter—with her three-month-old baby.
“It was like, what do I do?” Goins said earlier this year. “I just—I just didn’t want her to be homeless with me.”
In a moment of panic, she Googled adoption options and clicked on the first link that came up: a website for Brighter Adoptions, an agency in Layton, Utah. Goins was hesitant—adoption wasn’t something she had ever seriously considered—but the agency representative was persistent.
“The lady just kept calling, kept calling,” Goins said.
Within 24 hours of Goins’ first phone call, Brighter Adoptions had flown her from Detroit to Utah to place her child for adoption. Though Goins texted the owner of the agency saying she was having second thoughts, the process moved quickly: Within two days, agency representatives were at Goins’ hotel room door with the final adoption paperwork.
Goins’ story is the subject of an investigation by the Center for Investigative Reporting (which publishes Mother Jones) that aired Thursday on PBS News Hour.
As I wrote in the January/February issue of Mother Jones, Utah has become a hub for domestic adoption, with agencies flying in new or expecting mothers from across the country to place their children. The agencies often offer cash stipends and free lodging to mothers—many of whom, like Goins, are in desperate financial and housing situations.
This cottage industry is enabled by so-called “adoption-friendly” laws in Utah that expedite the process. Many states build in protections for birth parents, allowing birth mothers to change their minds days or even weeks after signing adoption paperwork, and requiring that birth fathers have a chance to contest the adoption.
In Utah, such safeguards don’t exist. Once the papers are signed, the decision is irreversible. In addition, the children of unwed birth fathers can be placed for adoption in Utah without their notification or consent. And finally, Utah is the only state where finalized adoptions can’t be dismissed even if the adoption was fraudulent.
“In confusion,” says Texas A&M professor Malinda Seymore, “there is profit.”
Agencies like Brighter Adoptions say they’re providing needed services, centering the needs of birth mothers and finding loving homes for their children. In an email, Brighter Adoptions owner Sandi Quick said that the agency ensures that mothers “fully understand the implications of adoption.” But critics argue that moving mothers away from their support systems to a state that expedites adoptions makes mothers more vulnerable. Plus, they say, the adoption industry is fueled by agencies, lawyers, and facilitators that often profit off of the process.
“I think domestic, private, infant action in America toes that line of legalized trafficking,” says Ashley Mitchell, director of Knee to Knee, which runs support groups for birth parents.
Over the past decade, several states, particularly those with restrictive abortion laws, have passed “adoption-friendly” legislation. Georgia, Kentucky, and Indiana have shortened the period during which a birth mother can change her mind; Virginia and South Dakota put limits on the rights of birth fathers; Louisiana, Arkansas, and Texas require schools to provide adoption education. Texas also has launched a multimillion-dollar campaign promoting adoption.
Malinda Seymore, a law professor at Texas A&M University, says that the dramatic state-by-state differences in protections for birth parents benefits the adoption industry.
“In confusion, there is profit,” she says. “If you can move a birth mother to a different state and take advantage of more favorable laws for your client, why wouldn’t you?”
