“How many people have ever heard of the Putative Father Registry?” I ask this every semester when I teach my family law class at Syracuse University. No one ever raises a hand. Only blank stares.
“What about deadbeat dads? Ever heard of them?” Students nod, self-satisfied in their recognition. I move to my next question.
“This one is for the men. Have you ever revealed to the government the name of every woman you’ve ever had sex with?” This is met with complete silence, confused looks, nervous smiles. As one young woman muttered under her breath, this may sound like “some dystopian shit.”
But it’s not. Since the 1970s, 33 states have created Putative Father Registries, designed as a way to link unmarried men to the mother of their child. States expect men to report—voluntarily and honestly—information about all their sexual partners; otherwise, they forfeit their right to be contacted if a partner pursues adoption. The registry is not a petition for custody or a determination of paternity—only a right to notification. Without registry, the wishes of the biological father are irrelevant.
Consider the case of Chris Carlton, a veteran whose girlfriend, Shalonda Brown, put their baby up for adoption without his consent. The couple first met in Pennsylvania, and after Brown got pregnant, the two lost contact. Carlton worked as a military contractor, and his employer transferred him to Afghanistan. While abroad, Brown reached out to Carlton to inform him that she had a baby boy in Utah who died shortly after birth. Upon his return home, he discovered that the child was actually alive, female, and adopted.