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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is Korea still sending children for adoption abroad?

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

We have to stop turning ourselves into victims.

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

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

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

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

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

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