A very good adoptee friend of mine has spent the entire 10+ years we have known each other searching for his biological family. He has done it all—TV appearances, DNA testing—he even found the bridge in Seoul where he was allegedly abandoned and the police station a good Samaritan took him to as an infant—all the way down to the police log recording his arrival at the station. But he has never been successful in finding out where he came from. Continue reading “To Search or Not to Search — That is the Question”
Not too long ago, I wrote about my decision to take a DNA test as a Korean adoptee. This was a very personal choice that took me a few years to comfortably make. For various reasons, I resisted the desire to learn more about where I came from for as one fellow adoptee said to me regarding us adoptees’ personal resolutions to do anything related to unearthing more information about ourselves and our pasts, such a step can be scary, because once you open that Pandora’s box, you cannot control what comes out. Continue reading “Opening a Pandora’s Box: Taking a DNA Test”
Even as a Korean adoptee myself, I find it impossible to put into words the urgency many fellow adoptees have to personally learn more about their origins. In some ways, it’s a kind of desperation, a feeling of incompleteness so many people in this world take for granted. And while my own curiosity about the early months of my life has not yet transformed into a need to know where I came from (although I am curious), I am still all too familiar with the complexities involved in not knowing. It’s a strange feeling. And while I understand the importance the search for answers represents for many, I was not prepared for a particular Facebook page I stumbled across dedicated to Korean adoptees searching for their birth families.
Bombarded, one after another, with images of Korean babies and children from the ’60s and onward, combined with sometimes desperate pleas for help in finding biological family, I was not prepared for the emotional magnitude that accompanied this public Facebook group. As I read story after story, and viewed photo after photo, the only expressions that came to my mind were vulgarities of disbelief, “Holy shit.” “Jesus Christ.” “What the fuck?” The sadness I felt was completely unexpected.