The woman on the phone says, “We think we found your mother.”

I ask myself a lot of questions about my ability to be a mother.

My biological father is standing there, leaning over a motorcycle.

There’s a different layer on life when someone chooses you.

I didn’t have problems during childhood. I am who I am, Dutch Korean.

My teacher told the class, “This is her last day. She’s going to America.”

After that, I kind of realized…okay, I’m a child born of rape.

I remember, vividly, the morning my mother gave us up. She was crying.

It’s not a job, but getting married that’s a challenge.

I sold hard taffy, physical labor. Those jobs were my ticket to survival.

It’s important for me to share, to encourage others who’ve been victims.

As of today, I do not know who is telling the truth, and who is not.

She gave me a ring she was wearing and said, “We have the same hands.”

Yeah, I’m black and Korean. But first and foremost, I’m black.

My oldest son got me a DNA test, and it stated I’m 100% Japanese.

I don’t know how to put it into words. I wish I could live like everyone else.

Why is Korea still sending children for adoption abroad?

My mom’s comment to me was, “You should be dating your own kind.”

I don't talk much about growing up in an orphanage—my darkest moment.

I am a man who should have died a long time ago, but I have a family now.

I’ve been homeless 15 times, from 1987 to the present—5 years in NYC.

Mild curiosity grew into a need to connect with adoptees and Korean-Americans.

People say my happy appearance is impressive, given my childhood.

Learning Korean really made me the most in touch with being Korean.

There’s no information about me, my birth, my family in Korea. Nothing.

It was an unspeakable act. I wanted to forget it. But I couldn’t.

We always felt we were Danish children, with Danish values and norms.

It wasn't until college that I started to sort out my multiple identities.

I learned that I was incredibly lucky to have grown up in Denmark.

I’m most likely a foundling, left near a police station.

What I’ve learned through my faith in the Lord, is that it happened for a reason.

I have chosen to see adoption as a part of my life, not the driver.

I’m grateful, truly, to be alive today. That’s why I tell my story.

That pain never goes away. I take my pain, and I put anger over it.

I enjoy traveling. When you travel, you’re not supposed to belong.

Mixed-race kids were seen as human refuse, a scourge on their culture.

We have to stop turning ourselves into victims.

I think that’s why God gave me my daughter, so I wouldn't be alone.

I did a total 180 from not hanging out with Asians, making up for lost time.

Korea never left me. Korea is inside of me. I eat, breathe, and live Korea.

My adopting father told me he met my mother, and he negotiated with her.

When I walk into a room, do people look at me and say, there’s the Asian girl?

When I married, I hid my history. Afterwards, the truth became known.

It took my birth father 35 years of searching. He finally found me 3 years ago.

I miss Korea and my birth family. It’s a sadness that I carry with me.

I feel my friends hold the concept of finding birth parents closer than I do.

The email said, “We found your mother. You have to come to Korea now.”

An immigrant family that was unwilling to give up on an abandoned orphan.

I was 7 and a half when I was adopted. I was told that I had two sisters.

My college essay was called “My Lucky Number”— my case number, K90821.

My mom told me herself that I was born on the floor at home.

If I were to be given another life, I would want to receive parental love.

My birth mother has remarried, and her husband can’t know that I exist.

All of a sudden, I saw real Koreans, who weren’t speaking Danish.

I didn’t get the answers I wished for, but I am more at peace with that.

My earliest memories are of living in one room with my birth mother.

It made me embarrassed, that I had to explain my existence to other people.

God, why am I here? Why did you put me in this household?

Because I’ve chosen to become a single mother, I think about my birth mother a lot.

Our extended relatives made it clear. My sister and I were “add-ons.”

I never really discussed racism with my parents. I didn't want to relive it.

I grew up feeling like a Martian who had arrived from outer space.

For the first time, I saw other adoptees who looked a bit like me.

If I wasn’t adopted, I’d be working a rice field. I’m not really an outdoor guy.

It was like opening Pandora’s Box, this piece of paper in my hands.

My biological parents wanted us to be together with a Christian family.

I don’t remember much, except the crying—all those unhappy children.

In Korea, I can feel the way people look at me, and I lose confidence.

My adoptive parents loved me so much, before they even had me.

My adoptive parents are Korean. I grew up speaking Korean.

I see a lot of Chinese babies who are adopted. We kind of blazed a trail.

As a child, I often dreamt about what I saw the night I was abandoned.

My adoptive parents are Korean. I found out I was adopted 3 years ago.

I remember walking down a dirt road in Korea, and crying.

My husband and I are both Korean. Our son inherits our Korean heritage.

Would I have been better off in Korea? I think the answer is always, no.

I’ll embrace the sorrow I still feel, and one day I will heal and forgive.

I did 23andMe. My second cousin on my birth father's side contacted me.

A feeling of detachment, and an inability to connect with anybody.

I learned how to pronounce my Korean name, and realized that it’s beautiful.

In the Holt records, it says that I was left on the doorstep of a man’s house.

I meet facility alumni. Some are successful, some have gone astray.

My mother simply asked me, “Would you like to go to America?”

He puts his little hand on my face. “Momma, we have the same eyes.”

I was born to have an identity complex, being adopted and transgendered.

Adoption includes the first family. The child did not appear from nowhere.

When I met my birth mom, it wasn't under the best circumstances.

What I had been looking for in my birth mom, I found when my son was born.

I was in the orphanage for the undesirable children. I was not adoptable.

What if I find out something I don't want to know? That scares me.

I got married after my husband promised me he’d never mention my past.

I was the baby—the first choice to give up for adoption. I understand that.

I remember looking in the mirror, trying to see what made me a target.

Maybe even more as an adoptee, I’m afraid of losing my parents.

My facility experience has made me tough. I don’t cry over small things.

It’s good to feel like you can acknowledge the complexities around adoption.

My mother thinks that I’m happy all the time, not how I have struggled.

I have both my birth family and my adoptive family, and I love them both.

I want to be as good a parent as my mom was for me. I’ll try my hardest.

Five Korean adoptees getting together, then 12, 15, 20, hundreds.