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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

Why is Korea still sending children for adoption abroad?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We have to stop turning ourselves into victims.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

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

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

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