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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is Korea still sending children for adoption abroad?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We have to stop turning ourselves into victims.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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