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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is Korea still sending children for adoption abroad?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We have to stop turning ourselves into victims.

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.