By Amy Henson, July 7, 2010 — I never really understood why I treasure a tattered, many times folded and unfolded paper that looks older than me. It is a record of birth that was issued at the village city hall. I was born in Germany, but I didn’t live there very long.
I was born on the third story of a village house with a midwife attending. The house belonged to a family of German citizens. My mom and dad lived on the third floor of their home. After the war (the one they call “the big one”), the US required German citizens to allow officers with families to use their homes. I understand that they actually told the Germans to leave their homes but my parents asked only for a room and were graciously accepted by this family.
I have another record of birth that is not as treasured. It sometimes makes me sad, it used to make me cry. My dad was in the Army in Germany and found, fell in love with, and married a German girl. The US Army insisted that my dad bring my mother and myself to the Army hospital on base because although I was already born and doing well, I was a US citizen.
As my mom was being taken from the ambulance and into the hospital, my dad arrived. Someone (mom never said who) approached us and told them to put us back into the ambulance and take us to the “black” hospital. You see mom and dad had very different skin colors. There is more to this story that is hurtful, but those days have passed and that part is more my mom’s story. A US birth certificate was issued for me.
The birth record issued on behalf of the US government reads female, born 5/5/1947, race “MULATTO”. The German record does not have a category for race. I do not feel that I am different from anyone else, although many have tried to make me feel and understand that I am (from their point of view). Times have changed a lot, but to me it should have always been as my first birth record stated: female child born 5/5/1947.