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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We have to stop turning ourselves into victims.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is Korea still sending children for adoption abroad?

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

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

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

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

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

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