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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is Korea still sending children for adoption abroad?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

We have to stop turning ourselves into victims.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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