Ozzie Philips serves as a deuteragonist whose life parallels and ultimately intersects with Sophia’s, exploring the devastating impact of systemic racism on ambition and fatherhood. He is a round, dynamic character who begins his journey as an optimistic and proud young man from Philadelphia, enlisting in the US Army in 1948 with the hope of achieving upward mobility and proving his capabilities as a Black man. His initial excitement, spurred by President Truman’s executive order to desegregate the armed forces, is quickly tempered by the reality of persistent racism. Despite his high aptitude scores and ambition to work in intelligence, he is relegated to menial maintenance jobs. His military uniform comes to symbolize both the promise of patriotic inclusion and its failure, highlighting the gap between institutional policy and lived experience.

The central conflict of Ozzie’s story revolves around his relationship with Jelka Durchdenwald and the birth of their daughter, Katja. This narrative arc illustrates the theme of Parenthood Under the Strain of Racism. Jelka’s marriage leaves him powerless to legitimize his family or protect them from social stigma and Jelka’s violent husband. Ozzie’s separation from Katja becomes the defining trauma of his life, a wound that never fully heals. His collection of Polaroid photographs represents his only tangible connection to his lost daughter, a fragile testament to a memory he fights to preserve. The failed delivery of his letters to Jelka reinforces the forces that fracture his family unit.

Following his return to the United States, Ozzie’s struggles with alcoholism reflect the loss of his daughter and the continued racist barriers he faces, such as being denied a GI Bill mortgage. His temper, a trait noted early in the novel, is exacerbated by his feelings of powerlessness. Ozzie’s journey toward sobriety, initiated after the birth of his son with Rita, marks a significant turning point. He begins to confront his past and take responsibility for his actions, transforming from a man haunted by loss and resentment into one actively seeking redemption. His eventual reunion with Sophia/Katja represents the mending of a historical fracture, offering a resolution to his lifelong search for his lost child.

Ethel Gathers is a deuteragonist whose personal quest for motherhood evolves into a large-scale humanitarian mission. Ethel is introduced as a compassionate and devout reporter, wrestling with the private pain of infertility. Her journey begins with a pilgrimage to Lourdes, France, where she seeks a miraculous cure for her involuntary childlessness. This trip provides a transformative spiritual awakening when a voice tells her, “You have much to offer others” (27). This message shifts her focus from her personal desire for a child to communal service, catalyzing her life’s work. From this moment, Ethel reorients her maternal drive toward a broader, more impactful purpose.

Upon discovering St. Hildegard’s orphanage and the plight of biracial children of German mothers and Black American GIs, Ethel finds her true calling. These children, abandoned due to the racist hostilities of the post-war era, become the focus of her immense capacity for love and organization. Ethel’s creation of the “Brown Baby Plan” (193), her one-woman adoption agency, is a testament to her resourcefulness, determination, and profound empathy. She navigates the complex bureaucracy of two nations, using her skills as a journalist to publicize the children’s situation and recruit adoptive families. For Ethel, this work is a righteous fight for children who, by virtue of their American fathers, deserve the rights of citizenship and the love of a family.

As a character, Ethel represents an alternative model of parenthood, one defined by choice and compassion rather than biology. By adopting eight children herself, she builds the family she always desired, demonstrating that love, not blood, is what constitutes a family. Ethel serves as a historical corrective, a figure who actively works to mend the families broken by racism and war. Though her system is imperfect, leading to the accidental identity swap of Sophia and another child, her intentions are consistently driven by a desire to provide love and security. Her story reframes motherhood as a powerful form of social and political action, making her the titular “Keeper of Lost Children” (448).

Ma Deary functions as the primary antagonist in Sophia’s life and a central force of conflict in the novel. A round yet largely static character, she is characterized by her cruelty, secrecy, and emotional neglect. Her motivations are complex, rooted in her own history of infertility and a damaging interpretation of parental protection. By hiding Sophia’s adoption and forcing her into a life of punishing labor, Ma Deary actively participates in the erasure of Sophia’s identity. Her refusal to discuss the past and her anger when confronted with the truth reveal a deep-seated fear and resentment. She treats Sophia not as a daughter but as an unpaid servant, creating a home environment devoid of affection or emotional support.

Ma Deary’s actions are a distorted manifestation of parenthood under the strain of racism. She justifies her lies and harshness as a way of protecting Sophia from the stigma of being an abandoned “Brown Baby,” yet this “protection” is a form of violence that denies Sophia her heritage and personhood. Ma Deary is a foil to Ethel Gathers; while Ethel builds families through adoption and transparency, Ma Deary uses adoption to create a prison of deception. Her final confrontation with Sophia solidifies her role as an unrepentant obstacle to Sophia’s self-actualization.

Jelka is a tragic figure whose decisions serve as the catalyst for the novel’s central plot. As a German woman who has a child with Ozzie, a Black American soldier, she is a direct victim of the era’s racism. Trapped in a violent marriage and facing social ostracism for having a biracial child, she embodies the impossible pressures placed upon German women who had relationships with Black GIs. Her decision to place her daughter, Katja (Sophia), in St. Hildegard’s orphanage stems from a determination to protect her daughter from her abusive husband. This act of desperate love sets in motion Katja/Sophia’s lifelong search for identity.

Jelka’s story, revealed through her sister, Jutta, and the letters she saves, is one of profound loss and regret. Her subsequent life in America is haunted by the loss of her daughter, a grief that ultimately leads to her death by suicide. Jelka’s story is crucial to the theme of parenthood under the strain of racism, illustrating how systemic prejudice can force parents into heartbreaking decisions that sever family bonds. The tin canister she leaves for Katja, containing letters and photographs, symbolizes her enduring love and becomes the key to Sophia reclaiming her identity.

Wilhelmina “Willa” Pride acts as a foil and a crucial friend to Sophia. As one of the first Black girls to integrate West Oak Forest Academy, she shares Sophia’s trailblazing status but comes from a background of privilege and loving support that highlights Sophia’s own deprivations. Willa is initially presented as a confident, well-adjusted girl who navigates the school’s social hierarchies with ease. Her friendship offers Sophia her first experience of peer support and acceptance. However, the relationship is tested by their shared affection for Max McBay, revealing Willa’s underlying insecurities. Despite this conflict, Willa proves to be a loyal friend, ultimately supporting Sophia through her identity crisis. She represents the potential for connection and solidarity among the few Black students in a predominantly white institution.

Max McBay serves as Sophia’s romantic interest and, more importantly, as a mirror to her own hidden identity. Like Sophia, he is one of the biracial children adopted from an orphanage in Mannheim, Germany. His presence at West Oak Forest Academy is a narrative catalyst, as his shared history and accidental utterance of German awaken Sophia’s dormant memories, prompting her active search for the truth. Max is confident and empathetic, having been raised in a loving adoptive family, which contrasts with Sophia’s abusive upbringing. He provides Sophia with a safe space to explore her past and her feelings of displacement. Their shared secret creates a unique and powerful bond, making their relationship a central element in Sophia’s journey of self-discovery and healing.