Identities

The word “identity” is derived from the Latin demonstrative pronoun that signifies “the same thing, oneself, the same.” The Diccionario de la Real Academia Española (Dictionary of the Royal Spanish Academy) entry runs: Identity. (From Late Latin identitat-, -atis). 1. f. The quality of being identical. 2. f. The collection of the typical characteristics of an individual or a collective that characterizes them as opposed to the rest. 3. f. The consciousness a person has of being her own self and distinct from the rest. 4. f. The fact of someone or something being the same as what is supposed or looked for. 5. f. Mat. An algebraic equality that is always verifiable, whatever the value of its variables.

As this makes clear, the definition of identity is quite variable, subject to only a relative degree of certainty; and moreover, the term can be defined in many ways depending on circumstances or the time period and its prevailing values. Categories to which this word can be applied include: personal, cultural, historical, political, religious, biological, philosophical, urban and sexual. Even the very right to identity has been explored. We may encounter as many kinds of identity as there are possible groupings or subgroupings.

Nonetheless, our focus here will be on identity construction as, above all, an everyday activity with which each of us lives.

The Construction of Identity

Certainly most human beings are conceived as a result of parental desire to procreate, to transcend. As a result of this decision, of this project of procreation, the individual comes to occupy the place of a desired being. In this way, it is the parents who grant her a first identity, one that begins to be built before her birth, in the imagination of his progenitors. As soon as she is born, she receives the name they give her, including a surname, and therefrom a family story. This story is one in which that child will take part in throughout her entire life, and even afterward since, with naming, she begins to occupy a place in the generational order.

As she matures the individual becomes responsible for constructing her own identity. For this reason, she will try to include herself in different circles of belonging, which at the same time permit her to differentiate herself and be recognized as unique among others. Through this process, various categories of identity are created:

Although the conjunction of all of these characteristics makes up personhood, it is undeniable that, with the emergence of DNA studies, perhaps due to its scientific certainty, the emphasis has shifted to biological identity.

DNA and Biological Identity

All living organisms on Earth possess at least one molecule of DNA, making it a universal. Thus, from the beginning all living beings are related. This is why it is called the “secret of life.” This same molecular structure has only one way to replicate itself and one genetic code that causes plants, animals and, among others, human beings, to share a singular biology.

As we have seen in earlier chapters, DNA is a chain of sequences created by four independent, named bases. A: Adenine. T: Thymine. C: Cytosine. G: Guanine. Much like the Roman and Latin alphabets, which are composed of twenty-six letters and can be written in different languages, Spanish, English, French, Italian, etcetera, these bases are like letters of the alphabet. The DNA bases combine to code all the information the different vegetables and animals require to be born, develop, reproduce and die. Therefore, as Juliana González Valenzuela maintains, “The language of life is like human language. It has a stable, universal structure that is expressed through different languages and infinite personal styles that are unique and unrepeatable.”

The totality of the DNA sequence, which is to say of the sequences of independent entities or bases that are present in each one of the cells of an organism, is known as a genome. Each human being possesses a genome of approximately three billion base pairs whose specific combinations constitute her biological identity. But a unique person’s DNA sequences are like those of 99% of other human beings. In other words, all that differentiates one individual from any other individual is a mere 0.1% of the totality. This is the portion of DNA that grants each individual an exceptional singularity.

To proceed with our analysis of the concept of biological identity, it is important to remember that genes are fragments of DNA that carry all the information necessary to create a protein. The approximately twenty-five thousand genes that encode all proteins with vital functions make up only 30% of the genome. The remaining 70% is made up of regulatory genes or non-coding sequences whose functions are still unknown. Furthermore, of the 30%, only 5% corresponds to the DNA fragments that determine the precise composition of proteins. By these calculations, we can deduce that in only a few thousand bases reside the genetic variables responsible for the different characteristics of people—light or dark complexion; tall or short; blonde, brunette or redhead; having a higher or lower predisposition for cardiac illnesses or cancer; healthy, sick or carriers of genetic diseases. We conclude that biological identity, and therefore the singularity of all humans, lies with this unique sequence of approximately three billion base pairs the subject carries in their DNA.

Likewise, human beings grow in a determined environment, and this also presents many variables: geographical location, climate, social and affective stimuli, and all of the situations to which they are exposed from gestation. The individual’s genes are expressed in response to the stimuli she receives from what surrounds her. To be precise, we believe it is the interaction of the environment with the specific genome sequence that makes each person an individual with a unique and irreproducible personal identity.

The Case of Claudia Poblete Hlaczik

On March 24, 1976, the democratic government of the Argentine Republic was deposed in a military coup. This moment marked the beginning of a period that its supporters called the Proceso de Reorganización Nacional (Process of National Reorganization), during which the military implemented a system of repression. Their object was to impose “order” through terror. It was the bloodiest period in Argentine history, when thousands of people, including students, workers, union members, intellectuals and professionals were kidnapped and murdered. This became known as “being disappeared.”

“Disappearances” involved the kidnapping of one or more persons by paramilitary commando units, also known as task forces. The detainee(s) remained under the power of their captors without any legal protection. Men and women were taken to clandestine detention centers where they faced interrogation and were tortured. Finally, most of them were killed. Their cadavers were hidden without any type of identification. Of the clandestine detention centers, the most well known are the ESMA, the Vesubio, the Garaje Olimpo (Olympic Garage), the Pozo de Banfield (Banfield Well) and La Perla (The Pearl). Estimates are that three hundred and forty of these centers were scattered throughout the country.

Thousands of people were disappeared this way. Human rights organizations have claimed evidence of more than thirty thousand. In some cases, the adults were kidnapped with their children and in others detained women who were pregnant gave birth in the detention centers. Some of these children were appropriated by members of the repression and registered as their own. Others were sold or abandoned in institutions. In the face of so many children and youth disappearing, relatives joined together to search for them, giving birth to a number of human rights organizations. Among these, Las Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo (Grandmothers of May Plaza) were and continue to be determined to find and restore to their biological families all the children who were kidnapped, “disappeared,” or born in captivity during the military dictatorship. As of this writing, as a result of detective work in court cases involving minors and orphanages, or by investigations into adoptions of the period, or in response to formal complaints received, the Abuelas have located 88 children of disappeared individuals. To corroborate the identity of these children, genetic tests were undertaken. At the beginning, these tests relied on analysis of HLA, but they currently use DNA analysis.

Claudia Victoria Poblete was born on March 25, 1978 in the Hospital de Clínicas de la Capital Federal (Central Federal Clinical Hospital). Her mother, Gertrudis Hlacziz (Trudi), studied psychology and worked as a volunteer in the Instituto de Rehabilitación para Lisiados de Barrancas de Belgrano (Rehabilitation Institute for the Crippled of Barrancas and Belgrano). There she met José Liborio Poblete, a young Chilean who had lost his legs in a train accident back in his own country. They fell in love and decided to have a child.

Trudi and José were among the ‘70s youth who believed that armed resistance was the appropriate way to bring their ideals to fruition. Trudi, though pregnant, visited small towns where she engaged in solidarity-building activities. José had created the Frente de Lisiados Peronistas (Front of the Crippled Peronistas) in which he was a militant. He also belonged to the group Cristianos para la Liberación (Christians for Liberation).

On November 28, 1978, a joint task force of military and police personnel kidnapped José as he was leaving work. That same night, they entered the home where he lived with his family and took Trudi and their eight-month-old daughter Claudia.

While the family searched desperately for Claudia Victoria Poblete and her parents, in another part of the city, Ceferino and Mercedes Landa received a baby they baptized as Mercedes Beatriz Landa. A false birth certificate showed that she had been registered as born on June 13, 1978.

Ceferino was part of the support system for military intelligence. He and his wife, already older, had not been able to have children. During her childhood and adolescence, Mercedes Beatriz lived in the Belgrano district, in the same city where her biological parents had lived. She was educated in the Colegio de la Misericordia (Mercy Elementary), only a few blocks from her new home. Later, she studied systems engineering in the military-run Escuela Superior Técnica (Technical High School). Her life was full of warmth and affection, strictness and respect. At sixteen, she began to ask herself if she was the Landas’ child or if she had been adopted. She calculated the ages of her parents, and she realized that they did not match her own. They were too old to have had a child as young as herself. Additionally, there were contradictions. They had hidden the truth of her identity, but often insinuated that she was not their biological child. Every time Mercedes Beatriz indicated she had some characteristic in common with her mother or Ceferino, they would answer that it must have something to do with the fact that they lived together, with the habits and customs they shared. But in spite of her doubts, for a long time Mercedes Beatriz did not wish to investigate her past. At that time, she naively accepted her parents’ explanations. Among these explanations were that there were only photos of her from eight months onward because the earlier ones had been stolen by a woman who worked in their home.

In 1999, when Mercedes Beatriz was twenty years old her parents gave her a legal document that had arrived for her. It informed her that she should appear at court for a case related to the expropriation of babies. Only then did Ceferino and his wife confess to her part of the story. They told her she was not their biological child. They had received her as a baby but did not know where she had come from. They apologized for having hidden the truth of her identity, but argued that they had done so to protect her. They also warned her that in court they would tell her a false story that she should not believe.

A few days after receiving notification, Mercedes Beatriz appeared in court where they explained that there were questions regarding her paternity. Another family suspected that she could be their grandchild. To confirm or dismiss this claim it was necessary that she take a DNA test. The thing that hit her the hardest was the possibility that she could be the child of disappeared parents. For Mercedes Beatriz , “It hit me like a pail of cold water.” She was more disturbed by this idea than the fact she had been adopted. Still, without hesitation, she signed the paperwork to submit to DNA testing.

When she returned home, the Landas insisted that they were unaware of her origins and added that she had never been claimed by anyone. The Landa family was not interested in human rights organizations. They denied everything related to that subject. In Mercedes Beatriz’s head echoed what she had heard her parents’ say, “The Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo are crazy, lying old ladies.” “Their children must have done something to be taken away.”

Soon after, Ceferino accompanied her to the Banco Nacional de Datos Genéticos (National Bank for Genetic Information) where they did DNA testing.

Although Mercedes Beatriz was an engineer and believed in science, she needed proof regarding the validity of the DNA testing. She established for herself how the exam functioned and what it offered in the way of probabilities of biological links. She felt calmer when she discovered that these tests could offer a high level of certainty regarding whether or not two or more individuals were biologically related.

During the eight months that followed, Mercedes Beatriz lived in limbo. She did not know who she was. On February 8, 2000, she returned home to find notification that the DNA tests were complete and that she needed to return to court to learn the results. There, on February 10, 2000, she sat at a desk holding a file full of the documents of her case. They explained that DNA testing could provide more than a 99.999994% probability regarding her maternal grandparents and more than a 99.999994% probability regarding her paternal grandparents. According to this, her true biological identity was that of Claudia Victoria Poblete, as shown in a baby picture. One image was exactly the same one her parents had saved from when she was young. She recognized herself. She did not doubt it was her and began to cry. She had now discovered who she was. She was excited and emotionally moved to find herself in this photo. The DNA results had confirmed what she felt in that moment—that she was Claudia Poblete.

The very same day she met her paternal grandmother and two biological uncles. When she returned home, Ceferino and Mercedes were no longer there. They had been arrested for the crime of kidnapping children. In only three hours, her life had been completely changed. Mercedes Beatriz found herself alone and confused.

Mercedes/Claudia began to meet the rest of her biological family. They showed her photos of her father Juan and others of her mother Trudi breast-feeding her. She recognized her mouth as that of her father and her hands as those of her mother. A mouth that could not kiss her, hands that were not able to guide her through life.

At the age when most young people become independent of their families, Claudia acquired a new one. She had to learn to be a grandchild, cousin, and niece. Little by little, she discovered characteristics of herself in other members of her family. Although she was disturbed, these facts confirmed that she shared a genetic heritage and brought her closer to them.

A few months later, Mercedes Beatriz legally changed her name. She felt herself to be Claudia and wished to recover her true identity. She also decided to add the maternal surname, Hlaczik. From one day to the next, for her friends, for her professors and colleagues, she was no longer Mercedes Beatriz Landa but rather Claudia Victoria Poblete Hlaczik.

Whenever Claudia examines her girlhood notebooks, she ponders her handwriting, and when she finds “Mercedes” written in it or her signature on a form, she glimpses that little girl. She recognizes herself as Mercedes but she feels she is Claudia. It is as if Claudia were called something else for a while, but nevertheless was still herself, the same person.

When Claudia mentions José and Trudi, she feels pain for not having known them. She blames them for not going into exile when they realized they were expecting a daughter, but then regrets it immediately. The immense affection she feels for them is clear. She recognizes that her true family is her biological one, but she accepts that she also feels affection for Ceferino and Mercedes. She does not blame them for not having told her the truth. On the contrary, she tries to cherish what they have given her.

Today, at twenty-eight, she affirms that what was most difficult to accept was that she is one person who spent twenty-some years as Mercedes and six as Claudia. She compares herself with adopted children who cannot unleash themselves from feelings of abandonment and acknowledges that, happily, no one ever abandoned her. She is certain that both her biological family and her adoptive family wanted her and loved her. She affirms that her identity comes from both vertices.

As Claudia began uncovering her true origins she acquired new likes, new interests. Her exact words are, “My mind was opened.” She began to enjoy spending afternoons in the park, drinking mate. She learned to ride a bicycle, something she had tried at various times without any success. She gained a new sense of liberty. She discovered that her true vocation was not engineering but teaching. She enjoyed the pleasures of music, reading, and writing. She began to study pedagogy at the university, to write, to develop a creativity that she had kept hidden. She admits that the rigidity of her education had not allowed her to connect with feelings of independence and that there was no room for a teaching career in the set of expectations with which she had grown up.

Claudia Victoria Poblete Hlaczik, twenty-eight years old, with fair complexion and brown hair, a systems engineer and pedagogy student, married, childless, is a clear example of how what was received genetically was crisscrossed with childhood experiences, adolescence, and with meeting her biological family. It is surprising, almost marvelous, how she managed to at once salvage her feelings for the parents who had raised her and accept the love that her biological grandparents and uncles expressed after searching for her those twenty years.

***

Claudia’s case shows how education, affection, and environment can modify the expression of the genes with which one is born..

Of course, the question remains, to what extent is the information encoded in DNA responsible for the way a person actually is, from physical appearance, psychology, ideological leanings or morals. How and how much does the environment interact with DNA sequencing? In other words, what place does the genome hold in the construction of an individual’s identity? Is the genetic sequence really the only factor that makes a subject unique and unrepeatable?

Science still cannot anticipate how each individual will express her DNA, especially with regard to behavior, because it is not known how environmental factors that will influence development. But each day brings more information from the genetic sequence: Currently, scientists can tell an individual if she carries the genetic mutation for a particular illness or if she has a lower risk for others. They can even predict certain physical characteristics. They are all the time gaining a better understanding of how genetic programming predetermines people’s lives, but they still cannot predict other factors that will also have some impact.

We still do not know what will happen when it is possible to calculate the way the environment acts on each of the genes. Will a day come when we can predict how different factors affect the synthesis of each of the proteins? Will biological identity allow us to anticipate certain individual characteristics? We still do not know. But what is undoubtedly true is the key role that the understanding of DNA and the human genome has played, including in the transformation of social institutions.

The Right to Identity: The Story of Victoria Donda Pérez

Victoria was only fifteen days old when she was separated from her mother and given to a married couple who raised her for twenty-four years as Analía, as if she were their biological daughter. Her adoptive father was a retired public official and her adoptive mother was a woman who always offered her unconditional maternal affection.

As a child, her father tried to guide her so that when she was older she would be able to distinguish herself. At eight years old, he sat her down on the kitchen table and explained to her that she had to strive to be an intelligent woman. She needed to know how to speak about current events. From then on, every Tuesday at eleven in the evening, they sat in the living room to watch a political commentary program together, and every Sunday her father chose a news article to explain and discuss with her.

However, he could not prevent Analía, when she was about fifteen years old, from meeting a priest who “made her head spin.” She started to read other newspapers, to ask herself new questions. She discovered injustices in the world and in the country where she lived.

Analía often transgressed her family’s imposed limits. When she was only sixteen years old she had joined a militant group of young people, “Venceremos (We will overcome).” While her parents worried about the ideas she expressed, they consoled themselves by thinking that it was merely a crisis of adolescence. Her mother and father managed to believe that soon their rebel daughter would find a job, become emotionally stable, and marry.

Analía thought the difference between the way she looked at life and the way her parents did was due to generational differences. At that time, none of her friends’ parents particularly wanted their children to participate in politics. Without exception, they all harbored fears cultivated by the military dictatorship. This was how she justified differences with her father on subjects related to social reality or national politics. For example, she was prohibited from speaking of the desaparecidos (the disappeared), and her parents had refused to let her see the film, La noche de los lápices (The night of the pencils).

On August 3, 2003, when Analía was twenty-four years old, her life changed forever. Women from the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo who helped search for young people approached her and informed her that two years before they had received a formal grievance that indicated she might be the daughter of desaparecidos. Since then, they had investigated her case and believed it to be the truth. They had a copy of Analía’s birth certificate, which indicated that her birth had been in a home and not in a hospital. Additionally, the doctor who had signed it had been accused of the misappropriation of minors.

Analía had never suspected she was not the biological child of the people she called mamá and papá. What she did know was that her father had been linked to the repression. That same day, not doubting for a moment what she had been told, she informed her mother that she was certain that she was not their biological child. She demanded to know where she had been born. Her mother confirmed that she was adopted but added that she did not know where she had come from.

But who had claimed that Analía might be the daughter of desaparecidos?

In 2001, while engaging in political activism in the Avellaneda neighborhood, the area where her adoptive father had lived as a young boy, Analía’s path crossed that of an older man who had been a child in the neighborhood back then. She assumed that he and her father must have known each other, and she spontaneously introduced herself with her first and last name. The man reacted strangely. Instead of being friendly, he looked as if he had seen a ghost. He knew that Analía’s adoptive father had been loosely tied to the terror run by the military dictatorship’s government and remembered the day Analía’s mother had visited the neighborhood with her newborn. He was quite certain that she had never been pregnant, and for twenty years had assumed that the baby (Analía) was the daughter of desaparecidos. Thus on meeting Analía again, he had immediately reported everything he knew of the story to the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo.

The committee from the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo who had told her about the uncertainty regarding her origins explained to her that they were not able to confirm her biological family. For that they would need her DNA; then they could compare her results with those of her purported relatives. But Analía refused. She did not agree to submit to DNA testing because she knew if the results confirmed that she had been misappropriated, her adoptive parents would be jailed. She did not want to assume that awful responsibility. With the means available to her, she began research her biological identity on her own.

At that time, the University of Buenos Aires’ Law School published a journal called Derecho al Revés (Rights Upside Down) for which Analía contributed a piece on human rights. In that process she was able to recover information useful for her personal investigation. The clues began to add up. First, she discovered that she had been born in the Escuela de Mecánica de la Armada (ESMA, the Navy Mechanic School). Furthermore, the registry tied her to a woman who had been kidnapped by a task force that reported to the Aeronautics division. She knew that, during the years in question, the Armed Forces had partitioned control of the country. In each region, procedures were the responsibility of different forces. The Aeronautics division was responsible for the zone west of the province of Buenos Aires. From this information, she deduced that if she had been born in the ESMA and if her case was tied to the Aeronautics division she should search the list of pregnant women who had been kidnapped in that zone during that period.

Thus, she obtained access to the archives of the ESMA. Two women from the zone to the west were registered there. They had arrived pregnant and had given birth to female babies in captivity. The birthdates of the little girls corresponded with her own. She concluded that she could be the child of either of the two women.

Now she needed the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo to confirm that the path she had followed was the correct one. But they refused and reiterated that she had to submit to DNA testing. Only then would she be able to confirm her biological identity and know that they were not giving her erroneous information. But Analía continued her investigation without agreeing to the testing. She wanted to protect her adoptive parents, and it terrified her to think they could be complicit in the murder of her biological parents. She needed the agency of the law to oblige her to submit to DNA testing.

On March 24, 2004, the government executed an order in front of the ESMA building, declaring it to be the Museo de la Memoria (Museum of Memory). Analía was present at the rally. In her hands she carried two signs. Each one displayed a photo of one of the women who might be her biological mother. For Analía this occasion was a decisive one. The uncertainty regarding her biological identity had transformed into an illness from whose symptoms she could not find relief. Finally, it was her padres apropriadores (appropriating parents) who convinced her to undergo genetic testing.

On June 26, 2004, Analía finally presented herself at the headquarters of the Abuelas de Plaza de Mayo for a blood draw. She said, “It was like unblocking my mind.” The test processes were prolonged for four months, a much too long period for her anxiety. Analía communicated with those responsible for the tests and pleaded for them to hurry. She asked them to not waste time comparing her genetic profile with those of the many family groups. She had already ascertained that her mother was a woman referred to as Cory, and that she, in turn, had been named Victoria. They should only compare her DNA with this family, she insisted. Finally, on October 8, 2004, Analía received the results that scientifically certified what she already knew: She belonged to the Pérez-Donda family.

How had she ascertained this? Analía had studied the files with the information on her two potential biological mothers. There she found the testimony of a woman, Lidia, who had been kidnapped together with Cory and who, unlike her presumed mother, had been set free. Lidia had helped Cory give birth. She was the one who declared that María Hilda Pérez, alias Cory, had given birth to a baby girl who she named Victoria. Lidia also said that Cory, believing that her child would survive the genocide, wanted her to carry a sign that would allow her to be identified. Thus, she cut two pieces of the blue thread they used to suture her cesarean section, and put them in her baby’s ears like earrings. Due to this testimony they had a clue to help them look for Victoria, la baba de las tiritas azules (the baby girl with the blue ribbons).

In these same files Analía also read another report. Only a few years before, a woman had communicated anonymously with the Abuelas to say that one night, twenty years before, her husband who worked for the Marina had arrived home with a certain Héctor Febres. That man carried a baby girl, only a few days old, in his arms. The little girl did not wish to eat and refused the bottle. As she had also just given birth, Febres asked her to try to breastfeed her. The woman had never forgotten that little girl who had little blue threads tied in her ears. This was the definitive clue that allowed her to uncover her true biological identity.

Analía knew Héctor Febres well. In fact, he had been like an uncle during her childhood. Later she discovered he had been imprisoned for trafficking of minors. After reading the two documents, she had no doubts: She was the baby girl that Héctor Febres had taken to the home of that woman for breastfeeding. From that moment on, Analía recognized herself to be Victoria, la beba de las tiritas azules.

Finally, the genetic study made her identity certain. The DNA test informed her that there was more than a 99.9999% chance that she belonged to the Pérez-Donda family.

Once they gave her the results, she confirmed that her mother had been Maria Hilda Pérez de Donda who had been kidnapped March 28, 1977, in the area of Morón by members of the task force of the Fuerza Aérea de Argentina (Argentine Air Force). She had given birth to a baby girl she named Victoria. After fifteen days she was separated from her daughter. She also discovered that her father was José Maria Laureano Donda, alias Pato, kidnapped in May of 1977.

Still more heartbreaking, she discovered that the brother of her adoptive father, who worked in the ESMA, had been a repressor and one of those responsible for the deaths of her parents. She also discovered that she had a biological sister one year older, Daniela, who was in the custody of that same “uncle.” She refused to meet Victoria.

Victoria’s maternal biological family, her grandmother and three uncles, live in Canada.

Victoria Pérez Donda, a 27-year-old woman with brown hair, a confident gaze, a strong personality, a law student, chose the same career her mother pursued when she was kidnapped. In reality, she had wished to study sociology, the discipline her father had studied when he was kidnapped by the military. Today she is a fervent advocate for human rights.

When Victoria was asked if she thought her passion for militancy was inherited from her parents, she wisely responded that she does not believe the popular myth that revolution is carried in one’s blood. She believes that she could have inherited her biological parents’ rebellious personalities, but not her decision to participate in politics. She had always wanted to transgress. Ironically, she says that in the Nineties she could have demonstrated her rebellion by going punk or goth, and she laughs when she says those choices would not have been enough to break with the structures in which she had been educated. Punk could be chosen by any youth in the neighborhood.

She also gets emotional when she affirms that she inherited her mother’s eyes. Cory and Victoria have the same big expressive eyes, whose similarity can be readily be seen by comparing Victoria with a photo of Cory. Their eyes are the product of a genetic expression inherited in a person’s DNA.

Victoria toys with the idea of genes and sensations, as if they could be biologically inherited, something that until now has never been proven. She says that, as a child, what she liked most was to have her afternoon snack of chocolate milk with chizitos in it, that her favorite dessert was the alfajor Jorgito with cheese, that today she loves to eat chocolate with cheese or salami with dulce de leche. A few months ago she went to Canada to meet her maternal relatives. The family was seated around a table and dined on pasta with grated cheese. While some began to clear the plates, others brought out chocolate for dessert. Without thinking, Victoria took a bit of chocolate and put it together with some melted cheese that had been left behind on the plate. Everyone seemed paralyzed by surprise and some began to cry. Victoria did not understand what was happening. At last they told her that her parents had liked to eat strange mixtures, that it had moved them to watch her repeat the same custom.

For Analía the DNA test was a definitive exit from the lie in which she had been immersed. It marked the entrance into her life as Victoria, the way in which she was permitted to cross the barrier that life had placed in front of her to take on her true identity.

***

The story of Victoria Donda Pérez, like that of Claudia Poblete, not only allow us to rethink the significance of identity as the total constitution of the human being, but also present clear examples of the scientific and social contributions of DNA studies. Thanks to these studies and the testing regimens developed from them, both women were able to find out who they really were and to which family they really belonged. They were also able to recuperate their legal identities.

For a long time, the definition of identity has depended on a consensual idea. It was an agreement between members of different nations or adherents to a political, social, or religious group, that caused them to be recognized. This was modified in the Eighties and Nineties, when international legislation appeared to define the right to identity, coinciding with the appearance of new DNA technologies.

While science has objectively demonstrated that every individual can be identified as unique and has offered the tools to prove it, legislation has determined that every person has the right to be recognized by others as who she is. This legislation was obliged to incorporate new scientific advances into its norms.

From the juridical point of view, the right to identity is a fundamental human right of every individual. It broadly includes biological, social, religious, ideological, and sexual recognition, among others. Enjoying that right presupposes the freedom to know and have access to all personal and familiar information, and it protects each subject from the violation of or infringement upon her true person. This is to say, the characteristics that belong to her and are distinctive to her—for example, her name and her connection with her biological family.

The right to identity was first spelled out in Convention on the Rights of the Child and subsequently approved by the United Nations General Assembly on November 20, 1989. Today almost all the countries of the world have ratified this convention.

Articles 7 and 8 set out the right to identity and recognize it precisely as such.

In September of 1990, Law 23.849 was passed in the Republic of Argentina. It endorses the Convention on the Rights of the Child. After the constitutional reform of 1994, the Convention’s complete text was incorporated in the Constitution of Argentina.

For the Supreme Court, the right to identity is, “a conjunction of attributes and qualities, from biological to those referred to as personality that allow for the individualization of the subject in society.” A minor’s right to identity is considered to be of maximum juridical importance and prevails over the juridical interests of other parties, be they parents or the State.

In concordance with the idea of identity established in the Convention on the Rights of the Child, every child should know her origin. For this reason, in 1997, the Law of Adoption was reformed, and it was established that every adopted child has the right to know her biological reality, as long as it is confirmed that the adoptee has consented for it to be known.

Without a doubt, humanity has advanced far in favor of the truth. However, and despite the refinements to legislation and jurisprudence, it is a fact that we live in a time in which biological identity takes precedence. We are living at the peak of DNA studies. If its proofs indicate a high probability of biological linkage or, on the contrary, there is none, a judicial case may become defined by its avoidance of the option to analyze the context of the life in question as well as its implications. Perhaps eventually the elements that have been displaced by the supremacy of DNA tests will occupy a larger place in the balance of Justice. Perhaps an equilibrium will be reached between technological advances and their objective proofs, and the facts of people’s affective life, which also must be taken into account. In this sense, the cases presented here, stories that are truly extreme, allow us to highlight he complexity of the human dimension. They permit us to reflect on just what role important scientific contributions should play.