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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is Korea still sending children for adoption abroad?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We have to stop turning ourselves into victims.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.