When Gwen Bass, PhD, took an at-home DNA test a few years ago, she never could’ve imagined what an incredible impact it would have on her life. It turned out she had 10 biological siblings, some of whom were the children of her parents’ friends. 

Yes, she knew that her lesbian parents had used an anonymous sperm donor to conceive and that a few of their friends had gone to the same doctor. But what nobody knew until that fateful DNA test was that her moms and those friends had all used the same donor. 

Enter Immaculate Misconception, Bass’s recently-released memoir, in which she explores what it was like to grow up in a queer family in the ‘80s and how it felt to have everything she thought she knew about her family be upended as an adult. 

“For me, the book is about articulating some of the complexity that I experienced as a kid navigating what it was to  be different and also trying to assimilate and trying to fit my family into this really particular structure,” says Bass. “And then having some of the lid blown off that as an adult by connecting with a different kind of family.” 

Ahead of her book launch, I had the chance to chat with Bass about what made her go searching for answers about her biological relatives, what her relationship with her newfound siblings is like, why she decided to write a memoir about all of her experiences, and how her childhood shaped who she is today as an educator and parent. 

Searching for answers

Bass knew that her parents had used a sperm donor to conceive. But the doctor who inseminated Lois, her biological mom, swore the couple to secrecy — so there was no record of the procedure or information about the donor’s identity. 

“At one point [as an adult], I called the doctor and asked if he was sure that there was no information because things are done so differently now,” she says. “And he told me that he didn’t keep records, which was really common back then.” 

If this sounds surprising, it shouldn’t: At the time, there were very few options for lesbian couples who wanted to have a baby and no laws protecting queer people and their families. That’s why, when they found a doctor who was willing to inseminate Lois, Bass’s parents told all their lesbian friends about him. 

Fast-forward to when Bass was 36. After going back and forth about whether she wanted to try to find more information about the donor and any potential biological relatives, she finally decided to spit into a tube and send her DNA to a popular ancestry website. “I dragged my feet for a long time,” says Bass. “The kit expired and they had to send me a replacement.” 

One of the main reasons why Bass took a DNA test was because she thought there could be a chance she was related to some of her moms’ friends’ kids. But since the doctor didn’t keep any records and had told all of the couples different things about their respective donors, it was all just speculation up to that point. 

After submitting her DNA to both Ancestry.com and 23AndMe, though, it was clear: Bass had 10 biological siblings — some of whom were, indeed, the children of her parents’ friends. That meant the doctor had used the same donor for everyone. 

“I look back now at these photographs of myself and some of these other women who were the offspring of my parents’ friends, and there’s a remarkable similarity between all of us,” says Bass. 

Navigating new familial relationships

Bass says the sibling connection has been profound for many of them. “There are some siblings I talk to everyday now,” she says. “A number of them are still in the Michigan area, where I grew up, but a handful of the rest of us are scattered around the country.”

Many of them have even visited each other. “We had one of my sisters and her family come,” says Bass. “There were some pictures in our garage of me as a baby that looked so much like my sister and her kids. We just had this moment of being like, ‘Who would’ve thought that we ever would have connected with our biological family?’ My sister said to me: ‘That could be my baby picture.’ It’s really kind of wild.”

Bass also learned she has biological siblings who were raised by her donor but who don’t know that she (or her other siblings exist). “That’s been a really complicated thing to negotiate,” she says.

About six months ago, she and one of her sisters did a podcast interview in which they gave the donor’s name and some details about him. “It wouldn’t be hard for them to figure out it was him if they had any speculation that that might be happening,” says Bass. 

Bass wants to respect their privacy and doesn’t know that she’ll ever reach out,  but “part of me even thinks it would be really cool to connect with them and to be able to fill in again more about who he was,” she says. 

She adds that one of her siblings spoke to a relative on their paternal side who was able to fill in some of the gaps and tell them a little bit more about what their biological father was like. 

“She talked about him riding a motorcycle standing up, just being this total wild guy,” says Bass. “It was really interesting, to hear some stories and to be able to think of him as a whole person, not just a sperm donor.”  

Writing it all down

“I wasn’t someone who, my whole life, wanted to write a memoir,” says Bass. But finding her biological siblings changed that. “It put me in a group that I had felt like I could never have been a part of. And I thought, ‘Oh my gosh, this is actually really cool — and there’s this really neat tie that binds us that I’ve never had with anyone.’”

Bass says this experience was very affirming in that part of her identity. And as she found her siblings and started talking to other folks about it, she says so many people had relatable stories. 

“This is a story that matters and could serve other people or support other folks in their understanding of their own identity,’” she says. 

Bass’ family was at the forefront of the queer family movement and she describes feeling like she was born into the role of a spokesperson. 

Bass also mentions that her biological mom — Lois — died last December, which was almost at the exact time she discovered her donor’s identity. 

“Those two pieces coming together made it feel like, ‘this is a story to tell,’” she says. “It’s a story that I now feel comfortable telling both because it gets to be mine. It’s no longer just the story that I was born into but I have some agency here.”

Finally, her other mom, Judith — as well as Dan, Judith’s biological son from a previous marriage, whom Bass considers her big brother — were both super supportive of her writing the book. 

“[Dan] and I have such a sweet connection — I probably wouldn’t have written the book if he wasn’t also supportive of my process,” she says. “And I’ve done as much as I feel I can or need to in the context of our relationship to let him and also Judith know, ‘You’re still my family, and my experience of finding these other people who are a part of my family doesn’t minimize your role in my life. It helps me to be more of myself.’” 

Shaping who she is today

In addition to inspiring her to write a memoir, Bass’s childhood experiences also played a role in shaping her chosen career path. 

Bass, who holds a masters of education in school counseling and a PhD in special education, works with families, educators, and child welfare agencies to help improve the experiences of marginalized children and ensure they have the support they need to thrive in school and in life. 

A major focus of her work is trauma, and she has a particular interest in helping the most vulnerable children, including children with disabilities and those in foster care. She also offers coaching and facilitates training for organizations who want to be more inclusive and identity-affirming. Bass knows what it’s like to stand out and has benefitted from being surrounded by strong advocates.

“I was really fortunate to have parents who were incredibly thoughtful about the ways that they helped me negotiate my identity. They acknowledged that I had been thrown into the place where I was as a kid, just being the first of my type,” she says. “So, I think it gave me a unique attunement to the childhood experience — and I think it makes me so much better at my work,  having been through a lot of things on my own and understanding the complexity of how to be yourself in a context that’s not ready to necessarily accept you.” 

And as a queer parent herself, Bass’s upbringing has also influenced how she parents her own kids — in a very positive way. 

“One of the greatest things my parents gave me was the power of a narrative,” she says. “I always grew up knowing how to explain myself to the world. And at different times I understood more of the words that I was given than at other times, but I always was really affirmed in my identity at home and had language to communicate that to the outside world. For me, that was  incredibly valuable. So, as a parent of kids who come from a non-traditional background, that aspect has really influenced the way that I parent my kids.” 

Photos courtesy of Gwen Bass. You can learn more about her work on her website and purchase her memoir, Immaculate Misconception, on Amazon.