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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

Why is Korea still sending children for adoption abroad?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We have to stop turning ourselves into victims.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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