How I've Evolved as a Korean Adoptee
Twenty years ago, I was in college. Just shy of hitting the legal drinking age at the time, I had a decent sense of my identity already. Meaning, I had already grasped a lot of the "Who am I?" question. Like nearly everyone I know that was adopted and sent out of Korea to be raised transracially, I had felt "white" on the inside at times. I had also felt misunderstood by Asian people who were either recent immigrants or refugees to the USA (or international students at my college), and I felt out of place in Korean-America (non adopted) circles as well. I had come to realize by age 20 that my own identity would be sculpted quite a bit by my own decision-making going forward. Meaning, I couldn't erase the past or the fact that I grew up how I did, with whom I did, or where I did - but I could probably have influence in shaping my own future, as a human living in this time, with this identity.
It was as I set into my 20s that I was determined to eventually live in Korea someday. It was with the very help of the newspaper you're reading (yep, Korean Quarterly) that I was able to learn about other people's points of view on adoption, living in Korea, being either a Korean-American non adoptee or an adoptee like me. It was through impressive written poetry, essays and even movie or book reviews that I began to gain more of a glimpse into a welcoming Korean America. I subscribed to a magazine that is now no longer in existence, but it focused on the Asian American experience.
It was during this time that I realized I wasn't comfortable anymore in all-white spaces where inclusion and equity were left out of the conversation. I didn't have the words for it then, but essentially I knew that being in places where whiteness was synonymous with "normal" and where both white privilege and white supremacy shaped institutions, cities, and mindsets, that I needed to both protect my sanity and get out of these spaces, as well as speak up about and against this way of thinking and being. However, in the late 1990s - while certainly conversations about race were happening, in middle America, at least in Minnesota - it was not a popular choice to challenge white privilege and white supremacy. So, I often felt frustrated and alone.
I left my comfort zone entirely by living in China for a year, teaching English to University students. This further pushed me to get comfortable with my Korean face but American identity. My students there were more than charming, but some certainly had their limitations in understanding my identity. Both a lack of knowledge on how linguistics works (babies learn and become fluent in whatever languages they're exposed to) and in assuming somehow my white-raised American identity would supersede my Korean appearance, I experienced an incredible year living and traveling to amazing places in the "Middle Kingdom" but also was bit burnt out at the end, mostly in part to being tired of having my appearance lead to many assumed interactions on who I am. The time there afforded me the opportunity to travel to Seoul, New Delhi and many cities in Thailand during the Lunar New Year tw0-month long break. So, it was during this year that I finally got to experience Korea for the first time.
I was in Korea for about 3 weeks. Thanks to the tip from another adoptee I knew, I ended up staying at KoRoot. Thank goodness I did that. KoRoot is a guesthouse in the heart of Seoul that is for Korean adoptees, and it was there that I met many people whom I will never, ever forget. It seems like a lot of adoptees who meet other adoptees from all over for their first big "adult adoptee experience" never forget those first friends they became connected to. I am no exception. Though I have lost touch with some of them, I remember those moments fondly, like movie scenes that run through my mind all these years later. My time in Korea is heavily highlighted by having met other Korean adoptees and learning more about our big, global presence, plus meeting my birth father.
After living in China for a year, which includes that first 3-week trip back to Korea, I moved back to Minneapolis for a few years. I dug deeper into my identity as a Korean adoptee by getting involved locally as a board member of AK Connection, and internationally with IKAA (International Korean Adoptee Associations). But the desire to live in Korea didn't go away. I didn't expect it to, but the timing was never going to be "just right." A few weeks after turning 30, I began a contract with a school in Seoul and embarked on my 2nd time to live abroad - only this time in the land of my roots.
Twenty years ago, I was in college. Just shy of hitting the legal drinking age at the time, I had a decent sense of my identity already. Meaning, I had already grasped a lot of the "Who am I?" question. Like nearly everyone I know that was adopted and sent out of Korea to be raised transracially, I had felt "white" on the inside at times. I had also felt misunderstood by Asian people who were either recent immigrants or refugees to the USA (or international students at my college), and I felt out of place in Korean-America (non adopted) circles as well. I had come to realize by age 20 that my own identity would be sculpted quite a bit by my own decision-making going forward. Meaning, I couldn't erase the past or the fact that I grew up how I did, with whom I did, or where I did - but I could probably have influence in shaping my own future, as a human living in this time, with this identity.
It was as I set into my 20s that I was determined to eventually live in Korea someday. It was with the very help of the newspaper you're reading (yep, Korean Quarterly) that I was able to learn about other people's points of view on adoption, living in Korea, being either a Korean-American non adoptee or an adoptee like me. It was through impressive written poetry, essays and even movie or book reviews that I began to gain more of a glimpse into a welcoming Korean America. I subscribed to a magazine that is now no longer in existence, but it focused on the Asian American experience.
It was during this time that I realized I wasn't comfortable anymore in all-white spaces where inclusion and equity were left out of the conversation. I didn't have the words for it then, but essentially I knew that being in places where whiteness was synonymous with "normal" and where both white privilege and white supremacy shaped institutions, cities, and mindsets, that I needed to both protect my sanity and get out of these spaces, as well as speak up about and against this way of thinking and being. However, in the late 1990s - while certainly conversations about race were happening, in middle America, at least in Minnesota - it was not a popular choice to challenge white privilege and white supremacy. So, I often felt frustrated and alone.
I left my comfort zone entirely by living in China for a year, teaching English to University students. This further pushed me to get comfortable with my Korean face but American identity. My students there were more than charming, but some certainly had their limitations in understanding my identity. Both a lack of knowledge on how linguistics works (babies learn and become fluent in whatever languages they're exposed to) and in assuming somehow my white-raised American identity would supersede my Korean appearance, I experienced an incredible year living and traveling to amazing places in the "Middle Kingdom" but also was bit burnt out at the end, mostly in part to being tired of having my appearance lead to many assumed interactions on who I am. The time there afforded me the opportunity to travel to Seoul, New Delhi and many cities in Thailand during the Lunar New Year tw0-month long break. So, it was during this year that I finally got to experience Korea for the first time.
I was in Korea for about 3 weeks. Thanks to the tip from another adoptee I knew, I ended up staying at KoRoot. Thank goodness I did that. KoRoot is a guesthouse in the heart of Seoul that is for Korean adoptees, and it was there that I met many people whom I will never, ever forget. It seems like a lot of adoptees who meet other adoptees from all over for their first big "adult adoptee experience" never forget those first friends they became connected to. I am no exception. Though I have lost touch with some of them, I remember those moments fondly, like movie scenes that run through my mind all these years later. My time in Korea is heavily highlighted by having met other Korean adoptees and learning more about our big, global presence, plus meeting my birth father.
After living in China for a year, which includes that first 3-week trip back to Korea, I moved back to Minneapolis for a few years. I dug deeper into my identity as a Korean adoptee by getting involved locally as a board member of AK Connection, and internationally with IKAA (International Korean Adoptee Associations). But the desire to live in Korea didn't go away. I didn't expect it to, but the timing was never going to be "just right." A few weeks after turning 30, I began a contract with a school in Seoul and embarked on my 2nd time to live abroad - only this time in the land of my roots.
