Even after some time has passed, Tito Jackson is still reeling, in the best of ways.
The former Boston city councilor and mayoral candidate recently shared the revelation of a lifetime: that he had located, and connected with, his birth mother.
Their story — shocking and deeply moving — was the subject of a recent Boston Globe story by Meghan Irons detailing their reunion. Jackson was prepared for the story, but not for the outpouring of affection and emotion that has followed it.
Jackson had always known that he was adopted, and had been aware for some time that he was conceived as the result of a rape.
But he didn’t know that his mother was Rachel E. Twymon. Members of her family spent years in close proximity to members of the family he was raised in. And the family name is famous: They are one of three families featured in the J. Anthony Lukas classic “Common Ground,” a nonfiction book that tells the story of court-ordered desegregation in the 1970s.
Indeed, Twymon’s pregnancy — she was only 12 at the time — is mentioned in the book, though rendered briefly and inaccurately.
Jackson, one of several adopted children raised by activist Herb Kwakuzulu Jackson and Rosa Jackson, describes connecting with his birth family in spiritual terms. His adopted mother was a firm supporter of his search for his origins.
“I connect it to the concept of grace, which is unmerited favor,” he said. “I didn’t get these opportunities, these chances, because I’m extraordinary. I had extraordinary people who loved me and an extraordinary community that lifted me up.”
The path to finding his roots began when he was in college at the University of New Hampshire. A doctor asked about his family medical history, and Jackson explained that he knew nothing about his biological family.
He did eventually learn, however, that he had the right to some information about his adoption. Jackson eventually befriended the social worker who helped arrange it, Marilyn Anderson Chase, who spoke at the kickoff of his mayoral campaign in 2017. He was able to learn the rough narrative of his adoption, but not the identity of the woman behind it. It would be four more years before he connected with his mother or his relatives.
By then, he had been circling around the Twymons for years.
“There are people who are my cousins who I know, who I’ve had drinks with,” Jackson mused. “There’s someone I went to Sunday school with who turned out to be my brother. Boston is a small city. It’s even smaller if you’re black, and even smaller if you’re part of the Twymon family.”
The joy has been mixed with grim reality. His mother, he says, was trafficked by her mother, resulting in his birth. She was forced to give him up, a brutal fact glossed over by Lukas, who never spoke to Twymon and apparently relied on her mother’s self-serving version of what happened.
And all of this unfolded against the backdrop of a city in chaos. Those twin forces — her personal struggles and the fire engulfing the city — shaped Twymon’s adolescence.
“The victimization happened in her household, on the bus, outside the bus, in the classroom, and in their church at the time,” Jackson said.
“There was a complete and total breakdown of the systems that were supposed to be in place to hold a 12-year-old girl at that time,” he continued. “That fell on the shoulders of a 12-year-old girl who turned 13 before she had her baby, which was me.”
What began as the most personal of journeys has led Jackson to reflect on those who will never know the joyous moment he is living now. As he knows, happily ever after is not always how these searches end.
“It’s an awesome time for me,” Jackson said. “Thank God I’ve been able to find my mom and my family and my history and the beginning of my story.”
Adrian Walker is a Globe columnist. He can be reached at adrian.walker@globe.com. Follow him @Adrian_Walker.