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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

Why is Korea still sending children for adoption abroad?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We have to stop turning ourselves into victims.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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