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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We have to stop turning ourselves into victims.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is Korea still sending children for adoption abroad?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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