SCOOP: Largest Cryobank in the U.S. to Offer Ancestry Testing
Sharon Kochlany and Vanessa Colimorio's four-year-old twin girls had a classic school assignment recently: make a family tree. They drew themselves and their one-year-old brother branching off from their moms, with aunts, uncles, and grandparents forking off to the sides.
The recently-gained sovereignty of queer families stands to be lost if a consumer DNA test brings a stranger's identity out of the woodwork.
What you don't see in the invisible space between Kochlany and Colimorio, however, is the sperm donor they used to conceive all three children.
To look at a family tree like this is to see in its purest form that kinship can supersede biology—the boundaries of where this family starts and stops are clear to everyone in it, in spite of a third party's genetic involvement. This kind of self-definition has always been synonymous with LGBTQ families, especially those that rely on donor gametes (sperm or eggs) to exist.
But the world around them has changed quite suddenly: The recent consumer DNA testing boom has made it more complicated than ever for families built through reproductive technology—openly, not secretively—to maintain the strong sense of autonomy and privacy that can be crucial for their emotional security. Prospective parents and cryobanks are now mulling how best to bring a new generation of donor-conceived people into this world in a way that leaves open the choice to know more about their ancestry without obliterating an equally important choice: the right not to know about biological relatives.
For queer parents who have long fought for social acceptance, having a biological relationship to their children has been revolutionary, and using an unknown donor as a means to this end especially so. Getting help from a friend often comes with the expectation that the friend will also have social involvement in the family, which some people are comfortable with, but being able to access sperm from an unknown donor—which queer parents have only been able to openly do since the early 1980s—grants them the reproductive autonomy to create families seemingly on their own. That recently-gained sovereignty stands to be lost if a consumer DNA test brings a stranger's identity out of the woodwork.
At the same time, it's natural for donor-conceived people to want to know more about where they come from ethnically, even if they don't want to know the identity of their donor. As a donor-conceived person myself, I know my donor's self-reported ethnicity, but have often wondered how accurate it is.
Opening the Pandora's box of a consumer DNA test as a way to find out has always felt profoundly unappealing to me, however. Many people have accidentally learned they're donor-conceived by unwittingly using these tools, but I already know that about myself going in, and subsequently know I'll be connected to a large web of people whose existence I'm not interested in learning about. In addition to possibly identifying my anonymous donor, his family could also show up, along with any donor-siblings—other people with whom I share a donor. My single lesbian mom is enough for me, and the trade off to learn more about my ethnic ancestry has never seemed worth it.
In 1992, when I was born, no one was planning for how consumer DNA tests might upend or illuminate one's sense of self. But the donor community has always had to stay nimble with balancing privacy concerns and psychological well-being, so it should come as no surprise that figuring out how to do so in 2020 includes finding a way to offer ancestry insight while circumventing consumer DNA tests.
A New Paradigm
This is the rationale behind unprecedented industry news that LeapsMag can exclusively break: Within the next few weeks, California Cryobank, the largest cryobank in the country, will begin offering genetically-verified ancestry information on the free public part of every donor's anonymous profile in its database, something no other cryobanks yet offer (an exact launch date was not available at the time of publication). Currently, California Cryobank's donor profiles include a short self-reported list that might merely say, "Ancestry: German, Lebanese, Scottish."
The new information will be a report in pie chart form that details exactly what percentages of a donor's DNA come from up to 26 ethnicities—it's analogous to, but on a smaller scale than, the format offered by consumer DNA testing companies, and uses the same base technology that looks for single nucleotide polymorphisms in DNA that are associated with specific ethnicities. But crucially, because the donor takes the DNA test through California Cryobank, not a consumer-facing service, the information is not connected in a network to anyone else's DNA test. It's also taken before any offspring exist so there's no chance of revealing a donor-conceived person's identity this way.
Later, when a donor-conceived person is born, grows up, and wants information about their ethnicity from the donor side, all they need is their donor's anonymous ID number to look it up. The donor-conceived person never takes a genetic test, and therefore also can't accidentally find donor siblings this way. People who want to be connected to donor siblings can use a sibling registry where other people who want to be found share donor ID numbers and look for matches (this is something that's been available for decades, and remains so).
"With genetic testing, you have no control over who reaches out to you, and at what point in your life."
California Cryobank will require all new donors to consent to this extra level of genetic testing, setting a new standard for what information prospective parents and donor-conceived people can expect to have. In the immediate, this information will be most useful for prospective parents looking for donors with specific backgrounds, possibly ones similar to their own.
It's a solution that was actually hiding in plain sight. Two years ago, California Cryobank's partner Sema4, the company handling the genetic carrier testing that's used to screen for heritable diseases, started analyzing ethnic data in its samples. That extra information was being collected because it can help calculate a more accurate assessment of genetic risks that run in certain populations—like Ashkenazi Jews and Tay Sachs disease—than relying on oral family histories. Shortly after a plan to start collecting these extra data, Jamie Shamonki, chief medical officer of California Cryobank, realized the companies would be sitting on a goldmine for a different reason.
"I didn't want to use one of these genetic testing companies like Ancestry to accomplish this," says Shamonki. "The whole thing we're trying to accomplish is also privacy."
Consumer-facing DNA testing companies are not HIPAA compliant (whereas Sema4, which isn't direct-to-consumer, is HIPAA compliant), which means there are no legal privacy protections covering people who add their DNA to these databases. Although some companies, like 23andMe, allow users to opt-out of being connected with genetic relatives, the language can be confusing to navigate, requires a high level of knowledge and self-advocacy on the user's part, and, as an opt-out system, is not set up to protect the user from unwanted information by default; many unwittingly walk right into such information as a result.
Additionally, because consumer-facing DNA testing companies operate outside the legal purview that applies to other health care entities, like hospitals, even a person who does opt-out of being linked to genetic relatives is not protected in perpetuity from being re-identified in the future by a change in company policy. The safest option for people with privacy concerns is to stay out of these databases altogether.
For California Cryobank, the new information about donor heritage won't retroactively be added to older profiles in the system, so donor-conceived people who already exist won't benefit from the ancestry tool, but it'll be the new standard going forward. The company has about 500 available donors right now, many of which have been in their registry for a while; about 100 of those donors, all new, will have this ancestry data on their profiles.
Shamonki says it has taken about two years to get to the point of publicly including ancestry information on a donor's profile because it takes about nine months of medical and psychological screening for a donor to go from walking through the door to being added to their registry. The company wanted to wait to launch until it could offer this information for a significant number of donors. As more new donors come online under the new protocol, the number with ancestry information on their profiles will go up.
For Parents: An Unexpected Complication
While this change will no doubt be welcome progress for LGBTQ families contemplating parenthood, it'll never be possible to put this entire new order back in the box. What are such families who already have donor-conceived children losing in today's world of widespread consumer genetic testing?
Kochlany and Colimorio's twins aren't themselves much older than the moment at-home DNA testing really started to take off. They were born in 2015, and two years later the industry saw its most significant spike. By now, more than 26 million people's DNA is in databases like 23andMe and Ancestry; as a result, it's estimated that within a year, 90 percent of Americans of European descent will be identifiable through these consumer databases, by way of genetic third cousins, even if they didn't want to be found and never took the test themselves. This was the principle behind solving the Golden State Killer cold case.
The waning of privacy through consumer DNA testing fundamentally clashes with the priorities of the cyrobank industry, which has long sought to protect the privacy of donor-conceived people, even as open identification became standard. Since the 1980s, donors have been able to allow their identity to be released to any offspring who is at least 18 and wants the information. Lesbian moms pushed for this option early on so their children—who would obviously know they couldn't possibly be the biological product of both parents—would never feel cut off from the chance to know more about themselves. But importantly, the openness is not a two-way street: the donors can't ever ask for the identities of their offspring. It's the latter that consumer DNA testing really puts at stake.
"23andMe basically created the possibility that there will be donors who will have contact with their donor-conceived children, and that's not something that I think the donor community is comfortable with," says I. Glenn Cohen, director of Harvard Law School's Center for Health Law Policy, Biotechnology & Bioethics. "That's about the donor's autonomy, not the rearing parents' autonomy, or the donor-conceived child's autonomy."
Kochlany and Colimorio have an open identification donor and fully support their children reaching out to California Cryobank to get more information about him if they want to when they're 18, but having a singular name revealed isn't the same thing as having contact, nor is it the same thing as revealing a web of dozens of extended genetic relations. Their concern now is that if their kids participate in genetic testing, a stranger—someone they're careful to refer to as only "the donor" and never "dad"—will reach out to the children to begin some kind of relationship. They know other people who are contemplating giving their children DNA tests, and feel staunchly that it wouldn't be right for their family.
"With genetic testing, you have no control over who reaches out to you, and at what point in your life," Kochlany says. "[People] reaching out and trying to say, 'Hey I know who your dad is' throws a curveball. It's like, 'Wait, I never thought I had a dad.' It might put insecurities in their minds."
"We want them to have the opportunity to choose whether or not they want to reach out," Colimorio adds.
Kochlany says that when their twins are old enough to start asking questions, she and Colimorio plan to frame it like this: "The donor was kind of like a technology that helped us make you a person, and make sure that you exist," she says, role playing a conversation with their kids. "But it's not necessarily that you're looking to this person [for] support or love, or because you're missing a piece."
It's a line in the sand that's present even for couples still far off from conceiving. When Mallory Schwartz, a film and TV producer in Los Angeles, and Lauren Pietra, a marriage and family therapy associate (and Shamonki's step-daughter), talk about getting married someday, it's a package deal with talking about how they'll approach having kids. They feel there are too many variables and choices to make around family planning as a same-sex couple these days to not have those conversations simultaneously. Consumer DNA databases are already on their minds.
"It frustrates me that the DNA databases are just totally unregulated," says Schwartz. "I hope they are by the time we do this. I think everyone deserves a right to privacy when making your family [using a sperm donor]."
"I wouldn't want to create a world where people who are donor-conceived feel like they can't participate in this technology because they're trying to shut out [other] information."
On the prospect of having a donor relation pop up non-consensually for a future child, Pietra says, "I don't like it. It would be really disappointing if the child didn't want [contact], and unfortunately they're on the receiving end."
You can see how important preserving the right to keep this door closed is when you look at what's going on at The Sperm Bank of California. This pioneering cryobank was the first in the world to openly serve LGBTQ people and single women, and also the first to offer the open identification option when it opened in 1982, but not as many people are asking for their donor's identity as expected.
"We're finding a third of young people are coming forward for their donor's identity," says Alice Ruby, executive director. "We thought it would be a higher number." Viewed the other way, two-thirds of the donor-conceived people who could ethically get their donor's identity through The Sperm Bank of California are not asking the cryobank for it.
Ruby says that part of what historically made an open identification program appealing, rather than invasive or nerve-wracking, is how rigidly it's always been formatted around mutual consent, and protects against surprises for all parties. Those [donor-conceived people] who wanted more information were never barred from it, while those who wanted to remain in the dark could. No one group's wish eclipsed the other's. The potential breakdown of a system built around consent, expectations, and respect for privacy is why unregulated consumer DNA testing is most concerning to her as a path for connecting with genetic relatives.
For the last few decades in cryobanks around the world, the largest cohort of people seeking out donor sperm has been lesbian couples, followed by single women. For infertile heterosexual couples, the smallest client demographic, Ruby says donor sperm offers a solution to a medical problem, but in contrast, it historically "provided the ability for [lesbian] couples and single moms to have some reproductive autonomy." Yes, it was still a solution to a biological problem, but it was also a solution to a social one.
The Sperm Bank of California updated its registration forms to include language urging parents, donor-conceived people, and donors not to use consumer DNA tests, and to go through the cryobank if they, understandably, want to learn more about who they're connected to. But truthfully, there's not much else cryobanks can do to protect clients on any side of the donor transaction from surprise contact right now—especially not from relatives of the donor who may not even know someone in their family has donated sperm.
A Tricky Position
Personally, I've known I was donor-conceived from day one. It has never been a source of confusion, angst, or curiosity, and in fact has never loomed particularly large for me in any way. I see it merely as a type of reproductive technology—on par with in vitro fertilization—that enabled me to exist, and, now that I do exist, is irrelevant. Being confronted with my donor's identity or any donor siblings would make this fact of my conception bigger than I need it to be, as an adult with a full-blown identity derived from all of my other life experiences. But I still wonder about the minutiae of my ethnicity in much the same way as anyone else who wonders, and feel there's no safe way for me to find out without relinquishing some of my existential independence.
The author and her mom in spring of 1998.
"People obviously want to participate in 23andMe and Ancestry because they're interested in knowing more about themselves," says Shamonki. "I wouldn't want to create a world where people who are donor-conceived feel like they can't participate in this technology because they're trying to shut out [other] information."
After all, it was the allure of that exact conceit—knowing more about oneself—that seemed to magnetically draw in millions of people to these tools in the first place. It's an experience that clearly taps into a population-wide psychic need, even—perhaps especially—if one's origins are a mystery.
The Top 8 Things to Know About Anti-Aging Research Right Now
Dr. Michael West has a storied legacy in the world of aging research. Twenty years ago, the company he started, Geron, hit upon a major breakthrough when his scientists isolated the active component for the gene that confers immortality to cells, called telomerase.
In the twenty years since, a new field has emerged: the science of extending the human "healthspan."
He was in the lab when scientists for the first time artificially turned on the gene in some skin cells donated by Dr. Leonard Hayflick, the man who had discovered back in 1965 that human cells age over time. Sure enough, with Geron's intervention, Hayflick's skin cells became immortal in the dish, and the landmark paper was published in Science in 1998.
In the twenty years since, a new field has emerged: the science of extending the human "healthspan" – the length of time people can live free of diseases related to aging. A substantial amount of preclinical and some clinical research is now underway, backed by heavy investments from some of the world's largest companies.
Today, Dr. West is the CEO of AgeX Therapeutics, a biotech company that is developing novel therapeutics to target human aging and age-related degenerative diseases using pluripotent stem cells. Dr. West recently shared some key insights with Editor-in-Chief Kira Peikoff about what's happening in this exciting space.
1) Pluripotent stem cells have opened the door for the first time in human history to manufacturing young cells and young tissue of any kind.
These are the body's master cells: They are self-replicating, and they can potentially give rise to any cell or tissue the body needs to repair itself. This year marks the 20th anniversary since their isolation for the first time in a lab.
"People in biotech say that the time from lab to discovery in products is about 20 years," West says. "But the good news is we're at that 20-year mark now, so you're seeing an explosive growth of applications. We can now make all cell types of the human body in a scalable manner."
2) Early human development could hold the key to unlocking the mystery of aging.
West believes that two things occur when the body forms in utero: telomerase, the immortalizing gene, gets turned off very early in development in the body cells like skin, liver, and nerves. Additionally, he thinks that a second genetic switch gets turned off that holds the potential for regeneration after injury.
"These insights open the door to intervention by the transfer of telomerase into the cells of the body."
"Very early when the body is first forming, if you cut the skin, it will not respond by scarring, but will regenerate scarlessly," he says. "But that potential gets turned off once the body is formed, about 8 weeks after fertilization. Then, you accumulate damage over a lifetime. Not only do cells have a finite capacity to replicate, but you have tissue damage."
However, there are animals in nature whose telomerase is never turned off, or whose regenerative ability is never turned off. The flatworm, for example, can regenerate its own head if it gets cut off, and it also shows no detectable aging. Lobsters are believed to be similar. (That's not to say it can't get caught and eaten for dinner.)
"These insights open the door to intervention by the transfer of telomerase into the cells of the body, or understanding how regeneration gets turned off, and then turning it back on," West says. "That's well within the power of modern medical research to understand."
3) Companies are investing tremendous resources into the anti-aging gold rush.
Devising interventions is the mission of AgeX, a subsidiary of BioTime, as well as a number of other companies.
"We're seeing a mad rush," West says. There's Google's Calico, which recently announced, with AbbVie Inc., another $1 billion into research for age-related diseases, on top of the previous $1.5 billion investment.
Other notable players include Unity Biotechnology, Samumed, Human Longevity Inc., RestorBio, Rejuvenate Bio,and Juvenescence (which is also an investor in AgeX).
"These are products in development by our company and others that the baby boomers can reasonably anticipate being available within their lifetimes."
4) The majority of clinical applications are still years away.
"What we've learned about turning back on this regenerative state, called induced tissue regeneration, is that the majority of the clinical implications are years away and will require years of clinical trials before potential FDA approval and marketing to the public," West says. "But we have found some potential near-term applications that we think may have a much faster track to commercialization. As you can imagine, we are all over those."
BioTime, Inc., AgeX's parent, has a regenerative medicine product in clinical trials for age-related macular degeneration, the leading cause of blindness in an aging population. While not yet approved by the FDA, BioTime has reported continued progress in the clinical development of the product now in Phase II trials.
Dr. Michael West, CEO of AgeX
Citi recently issued a major report, Disruptive Innovations VI, that included "Anti-Aging Medicines" as the number two innovation for investors to keep an eye on, and predicted that the first anti-aging therapies could receive regulatory approval by 2023.
5) Few, if any, medical interventions are available today that are proven to markedly slow aging - yet. But the Baby Boomers are not necessarily out of luck.
Buyer beware of any claims in the marketplace that a given skin cream or stem cell product will extend your life. More than likely, they won't.
"There are a lot of people trying to cash in on the aging baby boom population," West warns.
"When you hear claims of stem cell products that you can get now, it's important to understand that they are likely not based on pluripotent stem cell technology. Also, they are usually not products approved by the FDA, having gone through clinical trials to demonstrate safety and efficacy."
However, an array of young pluripotent stem cell-derived therapies are on a development track for future approvals.
One example is another program at AgeX: the manufacture of brown fat cells; these cells burn calories rather than store them. They burn circulating fat like triglycerides and sugar in the blood and generate heat.
"You lose brown fat in aging, and animal models suggest that if you restore that tissue, you can restore a metabolic balance to be more like what you had when you were young," says West. "When I was 18, I could drink milkshakes all day long and not gain an ounce. But at 50 or 60, most of us would rapidly put on weight. Why? We believe that one important factor is that with age, you lose this brown fat tissue. The loss throws your metabolism off balance. So the solution is conceptually simple, we plan to make young brown fat cells for transplantation to reset the balance, potentially to treat Type II diabetes or even obesity.
"These are products in development by our company and others that the baby boomers can reasonably anticipate being available within their lifetimes."
6) There is an ethical debate about how far to apply this new science.
Some people are speculating about whether genetic engineering might one day be used to program longer lifespans into humans at the earliest stages of development. (Note: it is against the law across the Western world to edit human embryos intended for reproduction, although just last week, Chinese scientists used CRISPR to repair a disease-causing mutation in viable human embryos.)
West sounds a cautionary note about such interventions meant to lengthen life. "For people who think not just about the science, but the ethics, safety is a major concern. It's entirely possible to genetically engineer babies, but when you make such modifications, it's an experiment, not just in human cells in a dish, but in a human being. I have a great reticence to put any human at risk unless it's a case where the person is suffering with a life-threatening disease, and the potential therapy is their last best hope."
"I have no doubt, zero doubt, that in the foreseeable future, we'll hear of a person who has lived to about 150."
7) The biggest challenge of intervening in human aging is cultural denial.
"The prospect of intervening in a profound way in human aging is still not seen as credible by the vast majority of thoughtful people around the world," West laments.
"Aging is a universal phenomenon, it's mankind's greatest enemy, but as a species we've adapted to the realities of finite lifespans and death. We have a whole infrastructure of belief systems around this, and many people see it as inevitable."
8) The lifespan for healthy children born today could surpass anything humanity has ever seen.
"It is at least 150 years of age," West predicts. "I have no doubt, zero doubt, that in the foreseeable future, we'll hear of a person who has lived to about 150. We know now it's possible. I've never said that publicly before, but I am comfortable now with the prediction. And, of course, if some people now living could live to 150 years of age, we have the prospect of them living to see even more powerful therapies. So, the question now is, what kind of a world are we going to make for future generations?"
[Editor's Note: Check out our latest video, which was inspired by Dr. West's exclusive prediction to leapsmag.]
Kira Peikoff was the editor-in-chief of Leaps.org from 2017 to 2021. As a journalist, her work has appeared in The New York Times, Newsweek, Nautilus, Popular Mechanics, The New York Academy of Sciences, and other outlets. She is also the author of four suspense novels that explore controversial issues arising from scientific innovation: Living Proof, No Time to Die, Die Again Tomorrow, and Mother Knows Best. Peikoff holds a B.A. in Journalism from New York University and an M.S. in Bioethics from Columbia University. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and two young sons. Follow her on Twitter @KiraPeikoff.
[Editor's Note: To learn more about this exciting field, check out: The Top 8 Things to Know About Anti-Aging Research Right Now.]
Kira Peikoff was the editor-in-chief of Leaps.org from 2017 to 2021. As a journalist, her work has appeared in The New York Times, Newsweek, Nautilus, Popular Mechanics, The New York Academy of Sciences, and other outlets. She is also the author of four suspense novels that explore controversial issues arising from scientific innovation: Living Proof, No Time to Die, Die Again Tomorrow, and Mother Knows Best. Peikoff holds a B.A. in Journalism from New York University and an M.S. in Bioethics from Columbia University. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and two young sons. Follow her on Twitter @KiraPeikoff.