Back to the Motherland

Much of my life I didn’t want to go back to Korea. I didn’t want to admit that you’re right I wasn’t born here. I didn’t want to go back to a place that didn’t want me anyway. I didn’t want to open the Pandora’s box of my mind and have everything I was scared to think might have happened to me to come flooding back as I once again stepped on Korean soil after all that time.

I always knew I wasn’t really Italian American. But on surface level I believed it and my friends believed it. I’d be somewhere with this group of friends or that group and a stranger would come by to try to connect by saying how their sister’s roommate, boss’s wife, or any other combination were Chinese too or Japanese too or Oriental too. Friends would step in and say nah shes Italian. And I felt happy to have friends stick up for me… to reinforce how… not Asian I was.

Of course I dealt with racism my entire life. The first time I remember was in 1st grade when a friend was called away at a party and returned and told me we couldn’t play together and being told “because you look different than me” when I asked him why. I was confused and I was hurt. My feelings would only get more complicated the older I got. My adoptive mother would ask me sometimes when I was a tiny human why are you so cute and my response was always “Korea made me cute” I don’t know why. And when she’d say what am I going to do with you I’d respond, “Throw me in a dumpster.” again unsure where these ideas came from. But I felt the need to be pretty and well liked so that I wouldn’t be left again. It was sadly something that followed me through my adolescence and into early adulthood.

As I grew the racism was obvious with the racial slurs through middle school and high school. I never felt good enough. I never felt I could do anything right. I never felt like I belonged anywhere.

But as I became a woman in college and later NYC the racism was something different. It wasn’t until years later I learned there was a name for it, microaggressions. The cat calling and and guys saying hi in Chinese and Japanese. Never Korean though. The guessing game, Are you Chinese? Are you Japanese? Are you Vietnamese? and so forth. The endless round of questions with, Where are you from? No, where are you really from? Where were you born? Where were your parents born? It made me angry. It made me push away from the culture I didn’t even know anymore. Having guys I dated say well I told my family you weren’t really Asian and then after having met these families a few times and being told by them yeah you aren’t Asian or you really are like an Italian. I felt accepted… sort of, as long as I could keep the mask on I could continue to be accepted.

It got worse as the sexualization and fetishization became prominent and confused me too. The being given attention that seemed like they liked me rather than hated me was new and different but deep down I knew there was still something wrong.

The self depreciation that honestly still comes out from time to time and to my friends calling me a twinkie and the whitest Asian they know etc. It all played a toll. It all helped shape and form my complicated self identity, or lack there of.

I was pregnant in 2016 when Trump was elected president and I cried. I knew life would get harder for me and would be hard for my child. The very next day the racism in the world around me started to become more blatant. To hear others, like my adoptive family, discussing how racism was getting bad and me screaming at the top of my lungs into a void that it has always been bad, it has never stopped, they just don’t have to be quiet about it anymore. Cause trust me, to a person who is facing racism, it doesn’t have to be loud for that person to know how the racist feels about them.

Then the pandemic came. A single mom of a 2 1/2 year old, having a house for a month, a new car, and now having lost my job– the world was scary and stressful enough. But then to be trying to pick up my in-store pick up order at Target in the middle of March and to have a guy say hold on to whoever he was talking to on the phone only to yell at me to go back to China I then began to get scared. As the stories of our Asian elders getting attacked, and women my age being killed, and even young children being hurt all just because we were Asian had my mental health go downhill.

For the first time ever I was scared to go out. My hair was dyed and pulled back my eyes were covered by big sunglasses and I’d get in and get out wherever I was. The kiddo would have on sunglasses and a baseball hat. He’d try to take them off on the street and out of pure fear I’d scream at him to keep them on. When he’d ask why I had no idea what to say. For my stress to be so high and to have this time period be the first time in his life I ever yelled at him made this hurt me even more. I never wanted to yell at my child. I was drowning and he was getting the brunt of my feelings. I did the best I could on my own but it wasn’t enough and so a little under two years of the pandemic I finally told my therapist it was time for me to begin medication. I had been working with a therapist that was also a trans-racial trans-national Korean adoptee and I had been making strides of leaps and bounds in compared to previous years but had become stagnate in my growth as everything became harder and harder to handle.

Fast forward to almost another 2 years later and I find myself on Korean soil. How did all of this happen?

Well when that incident at Target happened back at the start of the pandemic it became clear to me I needed to equip my son, and in turn me, with ways to handle the world outside and the first step of that for me was to come to terms with who I am. What’s my identity?

To be honest there will always be a hole there. A missing puzzle piece. People say I need to make peace with not knowing for my own sake. But I can’t and I really don’t think I ever will be able to. It’s not easy to (as I heard in a poem yesterday) start on chapter 2 with the first few pages ripped out. How can I ever stop my brain from wondering?

Well I was presented with an opportunity to perhaps find a page or two that was missing and I took it.

My son began Korean language and culture lessons online during pre k 3 in the spring semester. That following semester he had the opportunity to go in person, and so did I. I wanted him to learn about his, my, Korean heritage from a young age so that part of his identity was solid as there are so many questions I cannot answer for him about our personal history, our family. Around this time he heard BTS Dynamite somewhere and it would soon change my life.

I had no idea what it was when he asked me to play it but after some trial and error I found it. As 2022 went on he began to ask for more and more BTS and the more he asked the more I began to enjoy it. Every year for the past I don’t know how many, since Spotify wrapped (and probably even before the times of them announcing the data of my top songs and artists for the year) my top songs were always pop punk. The past decade or so it was new country on the radio and pop punk on Spotify. But at the end of 2022 BTS began to show up in my wrapped. I had begun watching KDramas in early 2021 and by this point Netflix was only suggesting things for me that were in Korean. I had learned all my Korean vowels and had begun the constants and I was beginning to feel comfortable being around Korean people once a week for 3 hours. Before this any time I was around many Asian people one person or another would inevitable begin to speak to me in whatever their native tongue was and I’d look at them like a deer in headlights and then they’d look at me sometimes annoyed, sometimes with sadness, or pity, or even disgust. So I didn’t fit in with them but not with the white people either, not really. But now that was beginning to shift.

As 2023 continued on my kiddo stated he had to join the military cause all guys in Korea do, like BTS, and he’s Korean so he has too. He also stated that he’s the 8th member of BTS and would not be going on hiatus. I was so proud to hear him say he was Korean. (And then had to try to explain a few things) I was always hiding it and ashamed of it but now I too was proud of who I was. At least the part of me I knew. I knew I was Korean but there was still a lot missing.

In October 2023 I happened to see a post on Instagram from the Overseas Korean Agency that they were looking at bringing Korean adoptees over to Korea. They would take 120 total from across the globe. I would be unable to come early or stay late (as they would allow) due to things previously on the calendar for years but I decided to try anyway and wrote my application. I figured it was a long shot and I probably wouldn’t get picked but my therapist and my friends urged me to try and so I did.

Then on November 1st I got a life changing call. I got picked. I wasn’t even sure if I was in the running as the hard copy wasn’t in on time or maybe it was, I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t get there in person but I faxed it and overnighted it. Since I wasn’t sure if it was going to count I had put it out of my mind. But as I parked my car I heard my phone ringing. I looked, it was a number I didn’t know, I never pick up such numbers. But in the back of my mind I thought maybe it’s them? It was a New York number and it was the beginning of November (when they said we would hear if we got picked). I cautiously picked up and said hello. As I heard the accented English trying to pronounce my legal name I knew for a fact it was them and when they said I got picked I began to cry.

So it was time to begin to put the wheels in motion to make it happen. And then 37 days later I was on a plane to Korea for the first time since I left at the age of 2 ish. Well actually I was on a plane to New York, then Los Angeles, then finally Seoul. As I previously mentioned I had plans that butted right against it. I had planned to fly home from Disney on December 8th. So I still did. But instead of heading home I had to meet my son’s father’s family at the airport to take my son back to CT. Then I turned around and headed for security. Direct flights that would get me in early on Sunday were sold out from New York. We began on Sunday in the late afternoon and I’d have to fly home pretty quickly after we wrapped. So instead after getting through security to fly to Seoul I had to instead get on a separately booked flight to Los Angeles. Then from there I was finally able to get a flight to Seoul and would land a little after 5am local time, on Sunday after waking up at 630am Friday to begin the journey. How long was I up for? I have no idea, there’s the time jump back and the jump forward. I got through security at JFK and got to my gate about 10 minutes before boarding, luckily things went smoother from LAX to Seoul as I didn’t have to go through security again.

I had talked to my therapist about how I was worried that going back to Korea might bring up past feelings, thoughts, memories, events, etc and how I would feel. But here’s the thing, I got off the plane and felt nothing. Which feeling nothing is feeling something as my therapist had said to me previously. But it’s not the feeling I was expecting, that was last on my list. I didn’t feel out of place but I didn’t have this overwhelming feeling like I belonged like there was something screaming, “You fit in!” I simply felt like me. Not me and, or me despite of, or me for an Asian, or me adjacent. I just felt like me, just me. My Korean language skills are lacking but somehow that didn’t even make me feel out of place. I often worried about the looks I would get, would they be like the ones I get back in the states? Well, those looks never came. It wasn’t until hours later when an older white gentleman passed me on the escalator that I was shaken out of my nothingness. I said, wait you look out of place. And I wasn’t talking about me but talking about this white man. I then began to look around and saw many with the same features as mine. Though specific features varied we all had commonalities, we, not them, and I was part of that we for once.

I didn’t get nearly as much done on Sunday as I would have liked. There were quite a few kinks to work out with figuring out the metro and then before I knew it I had to head to the opening dinner. Now it wasn’t just time for me to be seeing those that shared similar physical traits but also that shared many of the same emotional scars. No matter how good of an adoption story someone has all adoption stories sadly began with loss. I think the better adjusted you are within your adoptive family, your culture, and your identity the less you may let this fact affect you. I could be wrong, it’s just an observation. The opening dinner was fine but it was there that I learned there really wouldn’t be much free time at all. I saw it looking like a lot of late nights. And once the dinner concluded it was time for me to get back out on the streets of Seoul. (That sounds bad doesn’t it?) Again I tried to see as much as I could though once again I didn’t check nearly as many things off my list as I wanted to. Seoul is incredibly large and sprawling like Los Angeles. It has a web of metros and busses like New York City and hills after hills like San Francisco. However it also merges the ancient with the modern like a Roma. I always find it to be a wonderful contrast to say come out of the metro in the middle of Roma and see the Colosso or walk back home through the modern city of London and pass Big Ben or now drive through the streets of Seoul while passing ancient palace gates. America could only ever dream of having such a rich long standing history.

The following day the opening ceremony began and I had the first of my breakdowns. We were being welcomed by various government officials and at one point one of then said “for those that ever felt marginalized” and following up by saying that OKA would support the Adoption Citizenship Act and I lost it. A couple tears dropped and the more I tried to stop them the quicker and heavier they came. This would be a theme through the week for me.

Later I ended up called out to share my story as I was at a front table and the MC saw my breakdown. I agreed to stand up and speak when asked to do so. I really don’t remember what I said. I know that I didn’t say everything I wanted to but I also know it was hard enough to say as much as I did.

As the days went on I was able to find some connection with some of the other adoptees but again our schedule was tight, our schedule was long, and groups were predetermined. I didn’t feel I made as many connections as others as I was using my nights to see everything rather than joining them at the bars, though I really wanted to go to noraebang, like, I’m in SEOUL! It was on my list of things to do while there, but hard choices were made and I currently couldn’t sing for losing my voice the week before. ( I could talk, sort of, but literally was unable to sing, like trying to and no sound would come out) I’ve always been a bit of a loner so I suppose it makes sense. Plus I am terribly awkward and shy and introverted so unless someone talks to me first it’s hard for me to start a conversation. (And once a conversation is started I often say the wrong thing.)

4 days in I did end up having an anxiety attack. I was just around people too much. All day every day there were people and for someone like me who doesn’t even invite people to my home as its my safe place where I can just be me and not have to be around others it was a somewhat difficult experience. Additionally, this was now the 2nd week of this as I was in Disney for the week prior sharing a room with the tiny human and going everywhere with him. It doesn’t matter who it is, sometimes I just need to be alone. I got too hot on the bus, people’s voices got too loud, my clothes got too tight, and my claustrophobia began to kick in. I had had a coffee earlier that day that was supposed to be decaf and it wasn’t so that didn’t help matters. (My body does a poor job of processing caffeine.)

So as much as free time was lacking and having already realized a lot of the things I wanted to do closed early and opened late and thus was unable to partake in them due to the conference schedule I was going to take the night off from going out. I got to my room and took my anxiety meds and then some migraine meds. Slowly I felt my anxiety come down to a bearable level but I knew going out with people would bring it right back up and my head still hurt. I decided to head out to see some Christmas lights at the cathedral alone as such things usually help to soothe my soul. I find peace at church. The lights however were rather disappointing. The cold fresh air did have a welcoming affect on my nervous system though so I decided to walk around a bit. Being on the streets in the neighborhoods among the locals and on my own always helps to make me feel more immersed and connected into whatever community it is I’m visiting and I think it was greatly needed.

As the week went on as I heard various stories I saw emerging threads of commonality. Some people’s journey was wildly different from mine in their overall arch but an anecdotal mention here or there would come up that I could relate to. I found myself speaking a decent amount with 3 white adoptive mothers. That wasn’t my goal but I happened to be sitting next to one. Another came over to speak to me after hearing what I said when I got up, and the other? Well, shes ARMY and ARMYS have a way of finding each other. Perhaps I was doing this whole thing wrong, but they were nice. I like nice.

As the week came to a close I was sad to leave. I was sad I didn’t make as many connections as I felt I should have. I was sad I didn’t get to see everything I wanted to see or eat everything I wanted to taste. I was sad to find out there was no further information on my birth family. I was sad to leave a place that felt like home. No place in the states has ever felt like home. It wasn’t all sadness however, I was grateful to have been given this opportunity as different as it was from what I expected. I was happy to be going home to see the kiddo. I may not have completed the puzzle but I do feel that some of those missing jigsaw pieces have been found. Have I put them together the right way to make a puzzle that makes sense? I’m not sure yet. Will I ever be content with not finishing the puzzle? Probably not. Maybe one day the puzzle will be finished. It may not be the puzzle I had hoped for but maybe one day I’ll be content in all I know (or don’t know) and it will be complete and I will be too.

In 5 minutes we land back at JFK. Time had stood still as we land at the same time we left Seoul. In time I’m sure I’ll end up sharing more, but right now… it’s been a wild couple of weeks and I need time to process through everything, which probably won’t have a chance to happen until after the New Year. Thank you to everyone that made this possible. Thank you to those that supported me through this journey thus far. And thank you to those that will continue to stand by my side. Thank you to the new kind people I met, starting with Rachel at the airport through to the very end. I may not always show grace but know that I try to as much as I can with this twisted little heart of mine. 감사합니다