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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We have to stop turning ourselves into victims.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is Korea still sending children for adoption abroad?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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