Should egg and sperm donors reveal their identities? The debate pivots on genetics and medical history.
Until age 35, Cassandra Adams assumed her mother and father were her biological parents. Then she took saliva tests through two genealogy databases—23andMe and AncestryDNA—and discovered a discrepancy in her heritage. In bringing up the matter with her parents, she learned that fertility issues had led the couple to use a sperm donor.
“Most people my age were not told,” said Adams, now 40 and a stay-at-home mom in Jersey City, New Jersey, who is involved with donor-conception advocacy. “Even now, there’s still a lot of secrecy in the industry. There are still many parents who aren’t truthful or planning not to be truthful with their children.”
While some of those offspring may never know a significant part of their medical history, Adams is grateful that she does. Surprisingly, the DNA test revealed Jewish ancestry.
“There are a lot more genetic conditions that run in Jewish families, so it was really important that I get my medical history, because it’s very different from my dad who raised me,” said Adams, who has met her biological father and two of three known half-siblings. As a result of this experience, she converted to Judaism. “It has been a big journey,” she said.
In an era of advancing assisted reproduction technologies, genetics and medical history have become front and center of the debate as to whether or not egg and sperm donations should be anonymous – and whether secrecy is even possible in many cases.
Obstacles to staying anonymous
People looking to become parents can choose what’s called an “identity-release donor,” meaning their child can receive information about the donor when he or she turns 18. There’s no way to ensure that the donor will consent to a relationship at that time. Instead, if a relationship between the donor and child is a priority, parents may decide to use a known donor.
The majority of donors want to remain anonymous, said reproductive endocrinologist Robert Kiltz, founder and director of CNY Fertility in Syracuse, New York. “In general, egg and sperm donation is mostly anonymous, meaning the recipient doesn’t know the donor and the donor doesn’t know the recipient.”
Even if the donor isn’t disclosed, though, the mystery may become unraveled when a donor-conceived person undergoes direct-to-consumer genetic testing through ancestry databases, which are growing in number and popularity. These services offer DNA testing and links to relatives with identifiable information.
In the future, another obstacle to anonymity could be laws that prohibit anonymous sperm and egg donations, if they catch on. In June, Colorado became the first state in the nation to ban anonymous sperm and egg donations. The law, which takes effect in 2025, will give donor-conceived adults the legal authority to obtain their donor’s identity and medical history. It also requires banks that provide sperm and egg collection to keep current medical records and contact information for all donors. Meanwhile, it prohibits donations from those who won’t consent to identity disclosures.
“The tradition of anonymous sperm or egg donation has created a vast array of problems, most significantly that the people thus created want to know who their mommy and daddy are,” said Kenneth W. Goodman, professor and director of the Institute for Bioethics and Health Policy at the University of Miami Miller School of Medicine.
“There are counter arguments on both sides. But the current situation has led to great uncertainty and, in many cases, grief,” Goodman said.
Donors should bear some moral responsibility for their role in reproduction by allowing their identity to be disclosed to donor-conceived individuals when they turn 18, Goodman added, noting that “there are counter arguments on both sides. But the current situation has led to great uncertainty and, in many cases, grief.”
Adams, the Jersey City woman who learned she was Jewish, has channeled these feelings into several works of art and performances on stage at venues such as the Jersey City Theater Center. During these performances, she describes the trauma of “not knowing where we come from [or] who we look like.”
In the last five years, Kathleen “Casey” DiPaola, a lawyer in Albany, New York, who focuses her practice on adoption, assisted reproduction and surrogacy, has observed a big shift toward would-be parents looking to use known sperm donors. On the other hand, with egg donation, “I’m not seeing a whole lot of change,” she said. Compared to sperm donation, more medical screening is involved with egg donation, so donors are primarily found through fertility clinics and egg donor agencies that prefer anonymity. This leads to fewer options for prospective parents seeking an egg donor with disclosed identity, DiPaola said.
Some donors want to keep in touch
Rachel Lemmons, 32, who lives in Denver, grew interested in becoming an egg donor when, as a graduate student in environmental sciences, she saw an online advertisement. “It seemed like a good way to help pay off my student loan debt,” said Lemmons, who is married and has a daughter who will turn 2-years-old in December. She didn’t end up donating until many years later, after she’d paid off the debt. “The primary motivation at that point wasn’t financial,” she said. “Instead, it felt like a really wonderful way to help someone else have a family in a few weeks’ time.”
Lemmons originally donated anonymously because she didn’t know open donations existed. She was content with that until she became aware of donor-conceived individuals’ struggles. “It concerned me that I could potentially be contributing to this,” she said, adding that the egg donor and surrogacy agency and fertility clinic wouldn’t allow her to disclose her identity retroactively.
Since then, she has donated as an open donor, and kept in touch with the recipients through email and video calls. Knowing that they were finally able to have children is “incredibly rewarding,” Lemmons said.
When to tell the kids
Stanton Honig, professor of urology and division chief of sexual and reproductive medicine at Yale School of Medicine, said for years his team has recommended that couples using donor sperm inform children about the role of the donor and their identity. “Honesty is always the best policy, and it is likely that when they become of age, they might or will be able to find out about their biological sperm donor,” he said. “Hiding it creates more of a complicated situation for children in the long run.”
Amy Jones, a 45-year-old resident of Syracuse, N.Y., has three children, including twins, who know they were conceived with anonymous donor eggs from the same individual, so they share the same genetics. Jones, who is a registered nurse and asked for her real name not to be published, told them around age seven.
“The thought of using a known donor brought more concerns—what if she wanted my babies after they were born, or how would I feel if she treated them as her own every time I saw her?” said Jones.
“I did a lot of reading, and all psychologists said that it is best to start the conversation early,” she recalled. “They understood very little of what I was telling them, but through the years, I have brought it up in discussion and encouraged them to ask questions. To this day, they don't seem to be all that interested, but I expect that later on in life they may have more questions.”
Jones and her husband opted to use a donor because premature ovarian failure at age 27 had rendered her infertile. “The decision to use an egg donor was hard enough,” she said. “The thought of using a known donor brought more concerns—what if she wanted my babies after they were born, or how would I feel if she treated them as her own every time I saw her?”
Susan C. Klock, a clinical psychologist in the section of fertility and reproductive medicine at Northwestern University Feinberg School of Medicine, said, “Anonymity is virtually impossible in the age of direct-to-consumer genetic testing.” In addition, “selecting an identity-release donor is typically not the first thing parents are looking at when they select a donor. First and foremost, they are looking for a donor with a healthy medical background. Then they may consider donor characteristics that resemble the parents.”
The donor’s medical history can be critical
Donor agencies rely on the self-reported medical history of egg and sperm donors, which can lead to gaps in learning important information. Knowing a donor’s medical history may have led some families to make different or more well-informed choices.
After Steven Gunner, a donor-conceived adult, suffered from schizophrenia and died of a drug overdose at age 27 in 2020, his parents, who live in New York, learned of a potential genetic link to his mental illness. A website, Donor Sibling Registry, revealed that the sperm donor the couple had used, a college student at the time of donation, had been hospitalized during childhood for schizophrenia and died of a drug overdose at age 46. Gunner’s story inspired Steven’s Law, a bill that was introduced in Congress in July. If passed, it would mandate sperm banks to collect information on donors’ medical conditions, and donors would have to disclose medical information the banks weren’t able to find.
With limited exceptions, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration requires donors to be screened and tested for relevant communicable disease agents and diseases such as HIV, hepatitis viruses B and C, the Zika virus and several STDs. With current technology, it is also impossible to screen for thousands of rare genetic diseases. “If a couple is using IVF (in vitro fertilization) to conceive with the donor gamete, some may opt for pre-implantation genetic testing to assess for chromosomal abnormalities,” Klock said.
Even these precautions wouldn't cover every disease, and some would-be parents don't get the genetic screening. In a situation where one donor has a large number of offspring, it is concerning that he or she can spread a rare disease to multiple people, said Nick Isel, 37, of Yorkville, Illinois, who was conceived with donor sperm due to his parents’ fertility issues. They told him the truth when he was a teenager, and he found his biological father with a journalist’s help.
Since 2016, Isel, who owns a roofing company, has been petitioning the FDA to extend the retention of medical records, requiring the fertility establishment to maintain information on sperm and egg donors for 50 years instead of the current 10-year mandate.
“The lack of family health information,” he said, “is an ongoing, slow-motion public health crisis since donor conception began being regulated by the FDA as a practice.”
For this podcast episode, my guest is Raina Plowright, one of the world’s leading researchers when it comes to how and why viruses sometimes jump from bats to humans. The intuition may be that bats are the bad guys in this situation, but the real culprits are more likely humans and ways that we intrude on nature.
Plowright is a Cornell Atkinson Scholar and professor at Cornell in the Department of Public and Ecosystem Health in the College of Veterinary Medicine. Read her full bio here. For a shorter (and lightly edited) version of this conversation, you can check out my Q&A interview with Plowright in the single-issue magazine, One Health / One Planet, published earlier this month by Leaps.org in collaboration with the Aspen Institute and the Science Philanthropy Alliance.
In the episode, Plowright tells me about her global research team that is busy studying the complex chain of events in between viruses originating in bats and humans getting infected with those viruses. She’s collecting samples from bats in Asia, Africa and Australia, which sounds challenging enough, but now consider the diligence required to parse out 1400 different bat species.
We also discuss a high-profile paper that she co-authored last month arguing for greater investment in preventing pandemics in the first place instead of the current approach, which basically puts all of our eggs in the basket of trying to respond to these outbreaks after the fact. Investing in pandemic prevention is a small price to pay compared with millions of people killed and trillions of dollars spent during the response to COVID-19.
Listen to the Episode
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Raina Plowright, a disease ecologist at Cornell University, is taking blood and urine samples from hundreds of animals and using GPS tags to follow their movement.
Kelly Gorham
Starting this summer, the public buses in the Oberhaching suburb of Munich, Germany, won’t have to be plugged in to charge overnight anymore. Stefan Schelle, the mayor of Oberhaching, is taking advantage of the fact that an innovative startup has its offices in his community: Magment, short for “magnetizing cement,” will install its underground charging pad in the coming months. As soon as that happens, the buses will charge while they wait at the city’s main station or while stored at their overnight quarters.
In his light-filled office, Magment’s co-founder and CEO, Mauricio Esguerra, demonstrates how the new technology works: The lights on his black model car only flash when he puts the miniature Porsche directly atop the induction plate. “This works just like when you charge your iPhone on its charging pad or heat a pot on an induction range. People don’t have to be afraid of magnetic fields or anything like that,” says the 60-year-old Colombia-born entrepreneur. “The induction only gets activated when the storage battery is placed directly on top.
Patented by Esguerra, the “magnetizing concrete” is able to target the charge quite precisely. The batteries will be mounted in a box underneath the vehicles such as the retrofitted public buses. “Look, here’s one passing by,” says Esguerra, pointing out the window as a blue city bus rides past his office.
An invention finds its purpose
Esguerra grew up in Bogotá, studied physics at the Technical University Munich where he fell in love with a German woman, and started a family in her home country. For 15 years, he developed magnetic products, including the magnetizing cement, for Siemens, Europe’s largest industrial manufacturing company. The patent belonged to Siemens, of course. “But there were hardly any electric vehicles yet,” Esguerra says, “and Siemens didn’t quite know what to do with this invention.”
Esguerra changed companies a few times but, in 2015, he got an offer from Siemens. The patent for the magnetizing cement was expiring and Siemens wasn’t interested in keeping it. Would he, as the inventor, want it back? “I did not hesitate a second,” Esguerra remembers with a smile. “I’m a magnetician at heart.” That same year, he founded Magment to finally make use of the technology he created 20 years ago.
To demonstrate how his cement is made, he opens the lid of a plastic bucket filled with cement powder. Mixed in are fingernail-sized black pieces, so-called ferrites, mainly consisting of three ceramic oxides: iron, nickel and zinc. Conventionally, they are used in electronics such as cell phones, computers and cables. Molded in concrete, ferrites create a magnetic field that can transport charge to a vehicle, potentially eliminating range anxiety for EV drivers.
Molded in concrete, ferrites create a magnetic field that can transport charge to a vehicle, potentially eliminating range anxiety for EV drivers.
Magment
“Ferrites have extremely high rejection rates,” Esguerra adds. “It’s comparable to other ceramics: As soon as there is a small tear or crack, the material is rejected. We are talking about a rejection pile of 500,000 tons per year worldwide. There are mountains of unused materials.”
Exactly this fact was the starting point of his research at Siemens: “What can we do with this energy-intensive material? Back then, it was crushed up and mixed into the cement for building streets, without adding any function.” Today, too, the Magment material can simply be mixed with the conventional material and equipment of the cement industry. “We take advantage of the fact that we don’t have to build factories and don’t have high transportation costs."
In addition to saving resources, recycled ferrite also makes concrete more durable.
No plugs, no charging breaks
A young intern in the office next door winds cables around a new coil. These coils will later be lowered underground in a box, connected to the grid and encased in magnetizing concrete. The recipient box looks similar; it’s another coil but smaller, and it will be mounted underneath the carriage of the vehicle. For a car, the battery box would be 25 by 25 centimeters (about 10 inches), for a scooter five by five centimeters (about two inches).
Esguerra pushes an electric scooter into a cemented scooter rack next to his office. The charging pad is invisible. A faint beep is the only sign that it has started charging. “Childs play!” Esguerra says. “Even when someone puts in the scooter a little crooked, the charge still works. Our efficiency rate is up to 96 percent.” From this summer on, hotel chains in Munich will try out this system with their rental scooters, at a price of about 500 Euros per charging station.
Compared to plug-in charging, Magment’s benefits include smaller batteries that charge slower and, therefore, gentler, so they may last longer. Nobody needs to plug in the vehicles manually anymore. “Personally, I’ve had an EV for six years,” Esguerra says, “and how often does it happen that I forgot to plug it in overnight and then start out with a low charge in the morning? Once people get used to the invisible charging system, it will become the norm.“
There are also downsides: Most car companies aren’t ready for the new technology. Hyundai is the first carmaker that announced plans to equip some new models with inductive charging capability. “How many cars are electrified worldwide?” Esguerra asks and gives the answer himself: “One percent. And how many forklifts are electrified? More than 70 percent!” Therefore, Magment focuses on charging forklifts, e-scooters and buses.
Magment has focused most of its efforts on charging forklifts and other vehicle types that are entirely or predominantly electric, unlike cars.
Magment
On the morning of my visit to Esguerra’s office, a developer of the world’s third-biggest forklift manufacturer is there to inspect how the technology works on the ground. In the basement, a Magment engineer drives an electric forklift over a testbed with invisible charging coils, turning on the green charging light. Esguerra opens the interior of the forklift and points out the two batteries. “With our system, the forklift will only need one battery.” The savings, about 7,000 Euro per forklift, will pay for the installation of Magment’s charging system in warehouses, Esguerra calculates. “Less personnel and no unnecessary wait times for charging will lead to further savings,” he says.
To implement the new technology as efficiently as possible, Magment engineers began recording the transport routes of forklifts in warehouses. “It looks like spaghetti diagrams,” Esguerra explains. “Soon you get the areas where the forklifts pass or wait most frequently. This is where you install the chargers underground.” The forklifts will charge while in use, without having to pause for charging breaks. The method could also work for robots, for instance, in warehouses and distribution centers.
Roads of the future could be electric
Potential disadvantages might become apparent once the technology is more broadly in use. Therefore investors were initially reluctant, Esguerra admits. “Some are eager to be the first but most prefer to wait until the technology has been extensively used in real life.”
A clear hurdle today is that electrifying entire freeways with induction coils would cost at least 1 to 1.5 million Euros per kilometer. The German Department for Transportation even calculates overall costs of 14 to 47 million Euros per kilometer. So, the technology may only make sense for areas where vehicles pass or dwell the longest, like the Oberhaching train station or a busy interstate toll booth.
And yet, Magment is ramping up to compete with other companies that build larger inductive charging pads. The company just finished the first 20 meters of a testbed in Indiana, in partnership with the Purdue University and the Indiana Department of Transportation. Magment is poised to build “the world’s first contactless wireless-charging concrete pavement highway segment,” Purdue University announced.
The project, part of Purdue’s ASPIRE (Advancing Sustainability through Powered Infrastructure for Roadway Electrification) program, is financed by the National Science Foundation. “Indiana is known as the Crossroads of America, and we’re committed to fortifying our position as a transportation leader by innovating to support the emerging vehicle technology,” Governor Eric J. Holcomb said. If testing is successful, including the concrete’s capacity to charge heavy trucks operating at higher power (200 kilowatts and above), Indiana plans to identify a highway segment to install Magment’s charging pads. The earliest would be 2023 at best.
In the meantime, buses in the Californian Antelope Valley, trams at Hollywood's Universal Studios and transit buses in Tampa, Florida, are already charging with inductive technology developed by Wave, a company spun out of Utah State University. In Michigan, Governor Gretchen Whitmer announced plans to build a test route for vehicles to charge while driving, in collaboration with the Israel-based company Electreon, and this year contracted to build the first road-based charging system in the U.S. The state is providing support through an innovative grant program.
Costs remain one of the biggest obstacles, but Esguerra’s vision includes the potential that toll roads could charge a premium for inductive charging capabilities. “And in reverse, a driver who has too much energy could feed his surplus into the grid while driving,” Esguerra dreams.
Meanwhile, Wave’s upcoming big projects are moving trucks along a route in Southern California and running a UPS route between Seattle and Portland. Wave CTO Michael Masquelier describes the inductive power transfer his company champions as “similar to a tuning fork. By vibrating that fork, you sent energy through the air and it is received by another tuning fork across the room. So it’s similar to that, but it’s magnetic energy versus sound energy.”
He hopes to partner with Magment, saying that “the magnetizing cement makes installation easier and improves the energy efficiency.” More research is needed to evaluate which company’s technology will prove to be the most efficient, practical, and cost-effective.
Esguerra’s vision includes the potential that toll roads could charge a premium for inductive charging capabilities. “And in reverse, a driver who has too much energy could feed his surplus into the grid while driving,” Esguerra dreams.
The future will soon arrive in the idyllic town of Bad Staffelstein, a quaint tourist destination in the Upper Franconia region of Germany. Visitors will be taken to and from the main station and the popular thermal bath by driverless shuttles. Together with the University of Wuppertal, the regional government of Upper Franconia wants to turn its district into “the center of autonomous driving.” Magment is about to install inductive charging pads at the shuttle stations and the thermal bath, eliminating the need for the shuttles to stop for charging times. No more drivers, no cable, no range anxiety. Masquelier believes that “wireless and autonomous driving go hand in hand.” Science fiction? It will become science reality in spring 2023.
CORRECTION: An earlier version of the story erroneously mentioned that Electreon required overhead cables.