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

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

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

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

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

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

We have to stop turning ourselves into victims.

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

Why is Korea still sending children for adoption abroad?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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