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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is Korea still sending children for adoption abroad?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We have to stop turning ourselves into victims.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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