When I look through photo albums from when I was young it's mostly filled with me surrounded by my white friends. Until I was around 3 years old my parents took me to Korean meetups, they were with other Koreans both adopted and non-adopted. There are very few photos from them, and by the time I reached preschool and began making friends there, my parents stopped taking my brother and I.
They never tried to hide the fact that I was adopted, it was pretty obvious that I was, but it wasn't something that was really talked about, and it was never something that they tried to nurture. I can remember looking at summer camps online, classes I could take near me, but I was never able to go to a single one.
I went to a small catholic school from preschool-fourth grade, and I hated it. It was more than the religious part and wearing uniforms, not being able to wear pants except for a couple of months of the school year. I was one of three Asians that I can remember. My brother was always very social, he knew how to get what he wanted, and he knew how to convince everyone to like him. I was more reserved, more book smart than great social skills, and this made me a target.
For the most part things were okay, I remember feeling alone a lot, and as though most of the friendships that I had were forced. I remember loving dance and even from the beginning feeling as though whenever I danced I could be free. And that was great, because there were so many moments about those years that I needed that feeling.
I remember watching makeup tutorials right around the time all the other girls started wearing makeup to school. My mom never wore makeup and had short hair, so I was on my own to figure that out. But, every single tutorial out there was for white women. It was for people with double eyelids. I remember staring in the mirror and not understanding why I couldn't put makeup on and look like everyone else. And then I remember crying and throwing things at the mirror because I realized it was because I was Korean. Because my eyes and my face didn't look like all of my friends.
One of the memories that has always stuck with me is a bad one, I must have been in 2nd or 3rd grade and we were out in the parking lot playing after lunch. I'm not sure what we were doing, probably getting ready for kickball or hopscotch, but we were on the steps of the church. And, I remember these girls coming over, girls that I was 'friends' with, but never truly got along with. Some of the details are blurry, but the words have never left my mind. "Who could ever love you when even your mom didn't." They told me that because I was adopted no one could ever love me.
The words of 7-8 year olds have stuck with me for years. They come back whenever I'm feeling down, whenever a relationship doesn't work out, whenever I get into a fight with someone. They haunt me when someone who I care about seems even slightly upset with me. That need to smooth everything over and make the other person happy, even at the expense of my own overwhelms me. I doubt they even remember saying this to me, but for me, these words will stay with me forever. While I'm older now and I know that they're not true and that those were just kids being bullies, there is a part of me that will always be affected by those words.
Another incident that has always stuck with me happened when I was 13 and was one of the first times I ever felt afraid because of my race. April of 2007, right after the Virginia Tech shooting happened. It was the end of the day and I was walking through the hallway to leave, a couple of girls stopped me and asked if I wanted to try out for volleyball, I told them I would think about it and walked down the hallway to the stairs. There was a group of boys, I can't tell you their names or even their faces, they were walking on the opposite side of me and one of them threw a slur at me as I walked by, when I looked up to see if they were talking to me they started screaming at me to go back to my country. That I didn't belong here and that "my kind" were murderers. They had stopped going up the stairs and as one took a step towards me I ran down those stairs faster than I ever had before.
These are just a couple of many experiences that were similar to these. I didn't have the world's worst childhood, there were definitely great moments, but as I look back on it, there were many things that affected me in ways I never could have predicted. Things that resolved around being adopted. Anxiety and depression that went undiagnosed and untreated for years. Self harm and suicidal thoughts before I even knew or fully understood what those were. Abandonment issues that I will likely always struggle with. Feeling isolated and completely alone. While I have a much better handle on many of those things now, when I look back at those things I'm filled with different emotions. I'm angry that no one was there to help, to tell me that what I was feeling was okay, and to give me ways to cope with them. I'm sad that so many moments of my childhood are blemished by all of the tears, fits of anger, and self loathing.
As a Korean adoptee, or really any international adoptee, you feel as though you will never belong anywhere. As though you have fallen through the cracks and that no matter how hard you try, you will never truly belong. In America I am too Korean looking but in Korea I look too American. While Asian stereotypes surround me in America, in Korea American stereotypes will surround me. And to this day that leaves a very unsettled feeling in my stomach.
It's been almost a week since I dropped my DNA test in the mail and every day makes me more and more anxious. It can take months to get results and I impatiently await the day that I receive the email letting me know that my results are ready. I want to thank everyone who left a like or comment on this post and all those who reached out and messaged me. Thank you for following along on my journey, I love receiving messages and feedback and if you'd like me to write about anything in particular feel free to leave a comment or message with the topic/questions.
Until next time.