adoption

Do You Want to Go Back?

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Do you want to go back?

It’s a question I have been asked numerous times throughout my life. No matter how many times I have heard it, I have to admit that I am always a little taken aback when people ask me that question. In a way, it’s a reminder that, while I am an American citizen, I won’t ever fully belong here. And, because I was born there, I am also a Korean citizen, but I will never belong there, either. I realize people mean well when they ask, but for me, it’s a really difficult question to answer.

When I was found abandoned in a subway station in Seoul, South Korea, I was crying and had bruises around my eyes. The back of my head was abnormally flat, presumably from not having been held enough. I was left without any identifying information, so I was given a birthdate of July 20, 1982, and I was given the name, Soon Duk Kim, which means kindness and virtue. I spent about a year in a foster home in Korea prior to my adoption. I have a photo of my foster mother holding me. I don’t think I will ever forget the gentle face—wrinkled, yet kind and serene—staring back at me from that photograph. It’s the closest thing to a baby photo I will ever have.

When I think about the way in which I was found, and when I feel the back of my head, I have a very difficult time believing that I came from a place of love. I look at my sons, both of whom have perfectly shaped heads, and I think about how I couldn’t hold them enough when they were babies. It saddens me to think about my first year of life. I know a majority of birth parents give their children an opportunity for a better life out of love. However, when I think about my birth parents, I have a hard time believing that they ever loved me. Many adoptees try to imagine what their birth parents must have looked like. Whenever I try to picture what my birth parents looked like, I don’t see faces. In fact, I have never seen anything but shadowy outlines of figures standing over me, but I have never been able to visualize a face.

For many years growing up, I actually feared going back to Korea to visit. My fear was that, if I went back to visit, I would not be allowed to leave the country. I know now that my fears were completely unrealistic, but those fears were very much a part of me for a very long time.

I used to wonder all the time. I used to imagine having another family in Korea. I used to imagine what it would be like to someday meet them and for them to tell me that they were searching for me and they loved me. Now, more than anything, I fear going back and looking at the crowds of people who look just like me and wondering. I don’t want to think that I might have a sibling or a relative living in Korea. I stopped wondering a long time ago because, now, I don’t want to know.

I have found comfort in the belief that there is nothing in Korea for me. I am well aware of the fact that because I don’t have knowledge of my birth name or my birth date, it would be nearly impossible for me to ever find any information about my birth family. I don’t read many stories about adoptees making their homeland journeys. It’s painful to read about the adoptees who found their birth families, and it’s heart-wrenching to read about those who were never able to find any information.

By leaving me without identifying information, I believe my birth parents were sending me a message that they don’t ever want to be found, and I’m okay with that. For me, it’s easier not knowing than feeling the pain of rejection again. It’s a pain that I don’t think I would ever be able to bear.

When my sons are older, I’m sure my family and I will make the homeland journey together. The purpose of the journey won’t be about trying to find my birth family, though. It will be an opportunity for my family to learn about the Korean culture together. For me, that will be a much more valuable experience than trying to find pieces of a puzzle that I was never meant to complete.

An Adoptee’s Perspective: Is Adoption Worth It?

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When I started working in the adoption world a little over five years ago, I was an absolute proponent of adoption. I don’t think there would have been anything anyone could have said or done to make me believe that adoption wasn’t anything but wonderful. Working in the adoption world can be difficult at times, especially for an adoptee. If I had a dollar for every time I have heard someone say something negative about adoption or attempt to discourage prospective parents from adopting, my kids’ college fund would be all set. The negative sentiments towards adoption can be difficult to hear sometimes, especially knowing that I wouldn’t be where I am today had my parents not chosen to adopt me. Working in the adoption world has brought a lot of my adoption issues to the surface, and has forced me to address many issues I had kept buried for most of my life. I’m thankful to have the opportunity to work in this field and learn about the good and the bad sides of adoption. It has also helped validate and normalize many of the feelings and experiences I have had throughout my adoption journey.

I believe in adoption. I believe that every child deserves a loving forever family. But, I am also well aware that adoption is not easy or perfect. Mistakes are made, and children and families sometimes pay the ultimate price for those mistakes. Working in the adoption world, I hear the stories—good and bad—and I see a system that works for some and has failed miserably for others. I also see children who age out of foster care or live their entire young lives in orphanages, and I am well aware of the statistics on the difficulties they will most likely face.

As much as I believe in adoption, I know that adoption isn’t for everyone. You need to be extremely dedicated, open-minded, always open to learning, and incredibly thick-skinned to be an adoptive parent. Adoption isn’t easy. It’s not a lifetime spent on cloud nine, nor is it always a dream fulfilled for people wanting to add to their families. Regardless of whether they were adopted domestically, internationally, or from foster care—all adoptees come with issues. No matter how old they were when adopted, it’s unrealistic to believe that it is possible for a child to experience the loss of one’s birth parent and come out on the other side completely unscathed.

The adoption journey doesn’t end when your adopted child is finally in your arms. The journey is one that never ends. It is a journey filled with joy and it is a journey filled with heartache. It’s the realization of one dream and the loss of another. It will sometimes feel like a rollercoaster ride that never ends. It is also a journey in which you may need to learn when to love and when to let go.

I have heard some parents say that they don’t know whether or not they would adopt if they could go back and do it all over again. But, a majority of adoptive parents have whole-heartedly said that despite the tears, the sleepless nights, and the sacrifices they have had to make throughout their adoption journeys—they still believe that it was absolutely worth it. If there is one thing motherhood has taught me, it is the fact that part of being a parent is experiencing heartache and knowing that you would endure it a million times over because your child is worth it. That’s how I feel about adoption. The system isn’t perfect, parents aren’t perfect, and children aren’t perfect, but it doesn’t mean that we should stop finding forever families for children and teens and it doesn’t mean that we should stop believing in the good things adoption has to offer.

My story as an adoptee hasn’t been picture perfect. I didn’t talk to my parents very much about being adopted or all of the teasing and bullying I endured growing up. I think it was my way of protecting them. As a teenager, I acted out and did things I am not proud of and put myself and my parents through hell and back. I went through a phase of not really caring about anything, much less myself. In doing so, I thoroughly tested my parents’ love and support for me. But, no matter what I put them through and no matter how much I pushed them away, my parents were always there. Looking back at that period in my life, I am so thankful that I had a place to call home and for parents who were there to pick me up when I hit rock bottom.

Even though adoption isn’t perfect and it’s not always a fairytale, as an adoptee, I can unequivocally say that adoption is worth it. I don’t know what I would do without my parents’ love and support. My parents and I talk pretty much every day. Some days I don’t feel like talking, and other days I am off in another world, but I always look forward to those daily phone calls. I find comfort in knowing that I can just pick up the phone when I’m having a rough day and know that I will always have someone to talk to. I am blessed to have a family to celebrate holidays and birthdays with. Without adoption, none of this would have been possible, and I would not be the person I am today.

Transracial Adoption: It’s Not Easy Being Green, But You Can Make It Easier for Your Child

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I am a Korean adoptee who was adopted at the age of 2. My dad is a 2nd generation Italian and my mom is German. My older sister is Korean, and my younger brother is a blond-haired, blue-eyed, perfect combination of my parents. I cannot tell you how many times my parents were asked if my sister and I were foreign exchange students!

I grew up in a predominantly Caucasian neighborhood, and attended school where I was one of a handful of minority students. My sister was beautiful, outgoing, intelligent, and popular. I, on the other hand, was incredibly awkward and introverted as a child, and I was teased a lot for being different.

My parents were proud of us, and they taught us to be proud of who we were and where we came from. It was no secret that my sister and I were adopted, and my parents did as well as they could with the resources they had at the time to make sure we didn’t lose a sense of our culture. When we were adopted, my parents gave us American first names, and used our Korean surnames as our middle names. They sent us to Korean culture camp and they cooked Korean meals for us.

When I was younger, I actually found it easier to be proud of my Korean culture. At times, I kind of liked being different than my peers and I was proud to have a story that was different than everyone else’s. As I grew older, and struggled more and more to fit in, I found myself wanting to look like everyone else. In high school, I often received invitations to join the multicultural club, and I always ignored them. At that point, I actually considered myself to be Caucasian. Kermit the Frog hit the nail on the head when he sang, “It’s Not Easy Being Green”. I knew what it felt like to be considered as different, and I wanted no part of it.

In college, I started to make an effort to get involved with Asian groups, but quickly found that because I didn’t know my language of origin, I was never going to be accepted by them. Apparently, I wasn’t Asian enough to belong. When I met and married my husband, who is Mexican, and had two children with him, I inadvertently drove a bigger wedge between myself and the Asian community by marrying outside of my race.

As a parent of two biracial children, I find it so incredibly important to attempt to create and cultivate ties between my children and their cultural communities. Due to my own experiences, we have been very lax in getting our children involved with the Asian community, but they are very involved with the Latino community. My husband is fluent in Spanish, and I can speak enough to get by, so we both speak some Spanish with the boys at home. We make Mexican food, and we take the boys to posadas, quinceañeras, and Cinco de Mayo celebrations

Food is a big part of our lives, so we use it as a vehicle to introduce our children to different cultures. In their short lives, they have experienced food from countries like India, China, Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, Turkey, Greece, Korea, Mexico, and Italy!

As a transracial adoptee, and now as a transracial parent, I cannot stress enough the importance of instilling a sense of pride in your child’s culture not only within your child, but also within your family. When possible, reach out to families who share your child’s race and culture. If they speak a different language, ask them to teach you different words and phrases. Learn how to cook dishes from your child’s culture and introduce them to your family. Learning things about your child’s culture of origin along with your child is an incredibly powerful experience. As a transracial parent, it is important to constantly be open to learning new things about your child’s race and culture of origin. Arming your child with the knowledge of who he is and where he comes from will be an invaluable tool for him as he grows and shapes his identity.