Never Give Up

You are never alone. Life is full of hope. Never give up.

I was born in Bryansk, Russia.

I was adopted a week before my eighthh birthday.

Prior to my adoption, I lived in a family that loved me, but absolutely hated each other. The household was made up entirely of women. I loved it.

However, things took a different turn when both of my parents passed away. I was three years old. It was hard.

Under the given circumstances, I was forced to live in an orphanage. It was difficult living in a place with daily physical and emotional abuse.

I will always remember the day when the caretaker’s son sexually abused me.

Survival was your top priority.

We were always punished. Whether it was for waking up caretakers, going to the bathroom at a “wrong” time or wetting one’s bed.

To make matters even worse, you were never allowed to defend yourself.

The worst memory prior to being adopted was the day my grandmother buried my mother. I loved her.

The best memory prior to being adopted was the time I spent with my grandmother. I still remember the days when we went to the park, baked fresh bread, walked around Bryansk, saw historic sites, but most importantly spent time together.

I never wanted those times to end.

Since being adopted, some of the biggest challenges I had to overcome include learning how to accept a different set of parents.

My adoptive parents were and still are very controlling of my life. It is difficult to live in a household where you are not able to make decisions of your own.

In addition, I had to learn a new language and convert from Orthodoxy to Western Christianity.

I overcame a lot of the challenges by creating a support group of my own. At school, I was able to connect with other adoptees and befriend them. They became my family.

Today, being adopted means an end to a life I was given at birth. I wish I could be with my birth family once again.

Hope is all I have.

Independent

Your past does not determine your future.

I was born in Moscow, Russia.

I was placed in an orphanage, Filatov #13, immediately after my birth and remained there until I was adopted three months later.

At the time, I did not know whether or not I wanted to be adopted.

My adoptive parents were always open about my adoption.

As I recall, my childhood was fun and memorable.

As an adoptee, I never faced many challenges after being adopted. The only challenge I am currently dealing with is finding my birth parents.

I wish I knew more about them.

Being adopted made no difference to me.

It was normal to me.

Recently, I’ve decided to take the next step forward and move in with my significant other.

People ask me, “What is currently holding you back?”

My answer remains the same, “Lack of schooling and my financial position.”

I work on my weaknesses daily.

In the next ten years, I hope to be more independent and have a career I enjoy.

I am proud of the family I was adopted into.

Fighting For Acceptance

I was born in Bulgaria.

Immediately after my birth, I was placed in an orphanage. It was located in the Romani ghetto. I ended up staying there for the first three years of my life.

I have extremely violent memories that haunt me from my time at the orphanage.

Everyday, I have to fight them.

I have neurodevelopment problems that make it hard for me to process my emotions, allow comfort, feel love, trust, and accept social interaction.

I rock back and forth constantly as a way of stimulation.

When I was adopted, there was no mercy. My name was changed to an American name.

I was expected to learn how to fit in within a family and learn a new language.

I went to physical therapy as a child, but it didn't seem to have much of an impact.

Despite all of the challenges, I am blessed that I made it to America.

My adoptive parents don't allow me to speak about my adoption and have "lost" my adoption documents.

They get angry whenever I have negative thoughts/emotions.

I wish more people understood the need to talk about it, but most people don't understand adoption, especially what it is and how it impacts everyone involved.

There is so much pressure to be the perfect child.

I’m sharing my story because adoptive parents need to understand that children must have time to get adjusted.

Don't physically or verbally abuse them if they don't understand certain things.

Be open to speaking with them regarding adoption.

Be patient.

A Blessing And A Challenge

I am sharing my story because I want other people to know that being adopted is a blessing, as well as a challenging journey.

I was born in Pitesti, Romania, a small town near Curtea de Argeș.

Prior to being adopted, I was raised in a predominantly white, upper/middle class family. They were very supportive of me, even though it may have been difficult to do so at times due to my disabilities.

I was placed in an orphanage six months after my birth. It was difficult to live in a place with constant abuse and lack of food.

Fortunately, at the age of two, I was adopted along with my twin brother.

I’m glad we left.

However, the memories will always be with us. The times we were tied to our crib, the constant smell of dead bodies and blood.

I first met my birth parents at the age of four via Facebook. Then, 21 years later, I spoke with them again via Skype.

I still maintain contact with them.

The biggest challenge I had to overcome since being adopted has been coping with my disabilities.

I lost my vision when I was three years old. I have a degenerative cataract in my left eye that can no longer be removed.

In addition, I am very insecure about myself and stubborn.

Despite all of the challenges, I am still proud of the fact that I’ve been adopted.

“We The Lees”

Lee was born in Busan, South Korea.

At four months old, an American family adopted him.

He spent majority of his life in Harrisburg, PA.

After graduating from college in 2007, he started his career working for the government.

At first, he had no interest in learning about the country he was born in or the Korean culture. His family attempted throughout his life to expose him to Korean culture.

However, everything changed when he attended a conference in 2010.

In 2010, Lee attended a Korean adoptees conference in Harrisburg, PA. It opened his eyes to adoption and a desire to learn more about his history.

In 2011, he returned to Korea for the first time since being adopted. Getting a chance to tour Busan, his birth city, along with the entire country was something that he will never forget. For the first time in a long time, he was able to fit in as he walked the streets. 

When he returned home, he developed an interest to learn as much as he could about Korea and desire to expose himself to as much Korean culture as possible.

He joined local adoptee groups and even served on the board of a local Korean organization. This newfound interest in Korean culture eventually led to meeting his wife, also a Korean adoptee, at a conference in New York.

Lee's adoption story is not a unique one. So many Korean adoptee stories fall along the same lines. 

He has never met his birth family or even initiated a search. He feels extremely fortunate to have the opportunity to watch how his wife, Whitney, interacts with her birth family. Seeing this firsthand gives him a desire to search for his own birth family.

He struggles with the fact that doing a search could lead to rejection, and never having what Whitney and her birth family have.

For Lee, just having the opportunity to control if and when he wants to search is enough in comparison to searching and being rejected if his birth family does not want to meet him. 

---

Whitney was adopted at six months old.

Whitney's adoptive parents have always encouraged her to learn about Korean food, culture, etc. They would often ask if she had any desire to go back to Korea to visit or try to find her birth family.

However, her answer was always, “No.”

After graduating from college in 2009, the US job market was horrendous and Whitney was unable to find any sort of decent employment.

On a whim, she replied to an advertisement and applied to be an English teacher. It just so happened that the position was in Korea, of all places. She flew to the motherland about six months later to start work.

While she was living and working in 천안 Cheonan, South Korea, Whitney’s parents in Ohio started harping on the adoption thing again, “You’re just a couple of hours from 서울 Seoul. Why not go up to the agency and just look at your file?”

By that time, she was sick of hearing about it, so she contacted Holt in order to locate her parents.

In 2010, Whitney’s parents decided to fly to Korea for a visit. She was determined that it would be a good time to get her Holt visit over with.

She scheduled an appointment with the case worker in Seoul.

Whitney and her parents visited Holt Korea PAS together. She learned about her birth family’s history including how mom and dad met, how she had an older brother, how she came to be given up for adoption, etc.

However, it was the last page that had the most shocking information.

Many adoptees’ family records have little to no family information. Whitney’s was basically a genealogy. Full names & government ID numbers for parents, grandparents, aunts, and uncles.

Her social worker at the agency explained that this was a rare case and how it would make a search relatively easy. The word “search” had never come into her consciousness before that instance. She paw-wowed with her parents, who agreed that a search just seemed like the right thing given all of the information that had been handed to them. The door seemed too wide open. Before leaving the office that day, Whitney gave consent to initiate search for her birth family.

One week after that initial search, Whitney sent a recent picture to Ms. Lee at Holt, along with a letter to give to her birth family. The caseworker responded that evening to say that she had translated it and would begin the actual search soon. She said normally it would take about two-three weeks for her to locate the family.

Whitney’s jaw dropped when she considered that she could potentially be meeting them in only one month. Little did she know…

About 48 hours later, on September 30th, Whitney went to her office at work to check messages after lunch. She was surprised when she checked her phone and saw six missed calls and a few text messages from the same unknown number. She called the number and found it was from Holt.

Ms. Lee asked, “Do you have a minute to talk?,” followed immediately by, “I found them.” Whitney stopped breathing. Ms. Lee explained that she had spoken to both Whitney’s birth father and birth mother that morning. They were, not surprisingly, shocked out of their minds. Ms. Lee also told Whitney that she had a 2nd brother…a younger one. She said both brothers were attending a university – the older in Korea, the younger in China. Neither brother had a clue about Whitney’s existence. Her birth mother said that she wanted to meet immediately, but she needed time to explain it to the boys. Ms. Lee asked, “So when can you come?”

After an afternoon of back-and-forth including multiple phone calls, it was decided. We would meet on October 1st…the very next day!

Whitney met 엄마 Omma, 아빠 Appa, and 성배오빠 Seong-bae oppa for the first time in 23 years on Friday, October 1st, 2010.

A lot has happened since that first weekend, which is how our blog, We the Lees, became a reality.

Whitney returned to U.S., met another Holt KAD, and they got married. They keep in regular contact with her birth family and go to visit them in Korea about once every two years. It has been quite the ride.

We hope other KADs will find our journey encouraging and feel a kinship. Most importantly, we want to remind other adoptees that they are never alone in the complex struggles that we each face. If you would like to learn more or connect with us, please visit our website.

You Are All You Have

Being adopted is not an easy life. But, as long as you can trust yourself that you will never give up on yourself, you are one step closer to acceptance, forgiveness and happiness.

You are who you are and you should never be ashamed of it.

I was adopted from Seoul, South Korea at 19 months old.

I’ve definitely had my fair share of challenges since being adopted.

My adoptive parents divorced when I was six years of age.

I felt abandoned, again.

The biggest challenge I had to overcome since being adopted was finding myself.

I still feel as if I never will.

I struggle with abandonment, anxiety, over sharing and keeping everything under control. 

Throughout the years, I have learned to not care what others think of me.

I’ve decided to be more independent and do what I can in order to become the best version of myself.

For those who are in a similar position, always remember to:

1). Keep a positive attitude in life no matter what the circumstances may be

2). Maintain positive relationships with friends and loved ones

I understand what it is like to be different.

I know I have another culture to learn from.

I am proud of the country I was born in.

Accepting The Facts

I was adopted immediately after my birth.

Based on what I’ve been told, my birth mother found my adoptive parents through an adoption agency.

As I recall, my childhood was awesome. I grew up in the lovely Washington, D.C. area.

I still live with my adoptive father. Unfortunately, my adoptive mother passed away.

Realizing that the people who raised me weren't my biological parents was a tough cookie for me to swallow. It was even more challenging to accept the fact that my birth mother never wanted me.

I overcame that by learning that I have two parents who love me and would do anything for me—something my birth mother didn't think she could do.

I'm still learning to cope with the fact that I may never have a relationship with my birth parents.

I have little to no information on them, not even their names.

And yet, I am proud that something like adoption exists.

I think other people should know that adoption is another wonderful option.

Embrace Who You Are

I was born to an unwed mother in Incheon, South Korea.

Born out of wedlock in the 1980's, the realistic outcome of being an unwed mother was very taboo.

My mother lived with her sister during her pregnancy. When I was born, she was unable to see me for reasons unknown to her or myself. Being born with a cleft lip and palate, I was already "different" from birth.

I was given up for adoption due to my birth mother’s inability to financially support me.

I was able to find her couple years ago. She was immensely emotional when we met. She felt guilty for giving up her oldest child.

Today, we have a healthy relationship. We understand that we can't undo the years we have not been together; however, that does not change anything between us. I call her once a month.

In U.S., I grew up in a rural town in northern Indiana. My adoptive family raised me to have integrity, responsibility, and respect.

I was six months when I was adopted and welcomed with open arms by all of my parents' biological children.

My adoption day, also known as A-Day/Arrival Day/Gotcha Day/Airplane Day is January 7th. A date I have tattooed on my leg. A day I will always take time to celebrate.

At the time of my adoption, the local newspaper wrote an article discussing what it meant for our family.

According to the adoption documents, I was in an orphanage, The Social Welfare Society, from the time I was relinquished until I was adopted.

Today, the organization has multiple offices in a lot of major cities in Korea. Their goal is to support unwed mothers, orphans, and children with physical and mental disabilities.

The biggest challenge I had to overcome after being adopted was eating with a cleft lip and palate.

I've had at least eight corrective surgeries for my cleft lip and palate.

Starting from when I was eight months old until I was about 17.

Knowing that I looked different on so many levels, I was at the center of being teased in elementary school, middle school, and high school.

Negative comments regarding my facial features started in Kindergarten.

Racial comments started in middle school and high school.

I overcame the negative aspects of these experiences by having a loving family.

My adoptive family has always encouraged me to continue to laugh and learn how to accept myself for who I am.

My closest friends also played a significant part, as they didn't care how I looked.

I feel so empowered to have been adopted by my family. Not every adoption is perfect, nor is every adoptee "normal".

I can't and absolutely will not speak for others and their adoption. As for mine, I am thankful beyond words.

I'm proud of the person I am today.

My parents did a wonderful job of raising me, holding me accountable for my actions, and letting me learn life lessons on my own.

My siblings mean the world to me and they have continued to support me, as I will continue to support them.

I don't share my story unless I'm asked. I don't want to offend others. Adoption can be a very sensitive topic for many, despite their past, present, or current views.

Sharing my story is not personally important to me.

I know my story.

I embrace it.

I live it.

However, if sharing my story provides a positive influence on others, then peace be the journey.

Find Peace In Your Own Story

Whenever I am asked to describe myself, “Adoptee” isn’t the first thing that comes to mind.

Only recently have I decided to accept this term. To be completely honest, I sometimes get an interesting feeling when hearing the word, “adopted”. I have a very strong love/hate relationship with this word.

According to multiple dictionaries, adopted is defined as, “having been adopted OR legally made the son or daughter of someone other than a biological parent.”

I am fortunate enough to say that I have never been introduced as someone else’s adopted daughter. I resent the fact that such statements automatically lump you into a category. I know that I am different and that may very well be due to the fact that I am adopted. But, I’m 37 years old and am still not able to express my feelings about being adopted.

It’s hard for me to differentiate what I actually feel, as opposed to what society has taught me to feel about being adopted.

I grew up in a household with two loving parents and siblings.

One of the siblings is also adopted.

I’ve personally never felt that either one of my parents ever treated us any differently.

I’ve never felt the need to measure my parents’ love for me in comparison to their biological child. Our adoption was never a secret among the rest of our extended family. Not one family member has ever gone out of their way to mention it.

My childhood wasn’t perfect. But, whose is?

Parenting doesn’t come with an instruction manual. I’m learning that myself as a parent to a seven-year-old child.

Before my son was born, I was raising a stepchild with my ex-husband. For many years, I refused to acknowledge the idea of loving her any differently than any biological child I may have. However, things changed when I was nine months pregnant. I contracted H1N1 Flu Virus and fell critically ill. I was incubated and given an emergency C-section. Then, placed in a medically induced coma for the next two months. I first saw my son when he was two months old.

I never gave much thought to what my birth experience would have been, or how I would have felt if I first saw my son. But, when I woke up from my coma, I felt robbed.

This would be the trigger that eventually made me reevaluate all of my feelings toward my own birth experience. How ironic was it that I would have another two months of my life unaccounted for? I have no idea who took care of me during the first seven weeks of my life that I spent in foster care. Now, my own son would not have a mother for the first eight weeks of his life. When I first held him, I felt nothing. I certainly didn’t feel like I loved him any more than anyone else. That has since changed, but it has taken years of bonding with my child to arrive at this point.

During these past seven years, I’ve been grieving the sense of a deep loss. Time lost with my child, which developed into grieving time lost with a mother. It wasn’t until I experienced a catastrophic illness and forced to draw these parallels that I’ve ever felt any sense of sadness about my adoption.

I’m still not sure what it means. I have a mother and a father. I don’t want another mother and father. So why am I sad? Is it because there were two months of my life where nobody loved me? I’ve never been able to identify what this feeling of loss is.

I’ve been registered on reunion sites for adoptees and birth parents since the age of eighteen with zero success.

I recently was able to find my biological mother and contact her via mail and Facebook messenger.

In my letter, I didn’t ask for anything. I briefly told her about myself and reassured her that I had a very decent upbringing. I put no pressure on her for any type of relationship. I let her know that I wouldn’t mind being in contact if she was open to it.

But, she wasn’t.

This has been the ultimate rejection. I’ve always known she didn’t want to be a parent. I thought that one day she would want to be a friend, but that is not the case. My point in even mentioning this is that I only searched for her because I felt pressured to do so. I also felt that I owed it to my son to exhaust every effort in finding as much information as I could about our biological history. Nonetheless, people are curious and I’ve often felt they were more curious than I was about my own history.

Adoption means so many different things for many different people. It can be either a beautiful process or an ugly one. But, the fairytale narrative of it needs to change. It is my belief that it does a huge disservice to adoptees in that it attempts to negate important emotions and feelings that an adoptee is entitled to.

Reconciling my emotions has been an extremely important part of my adoption process that I’ve suppressed for far too long. My adoption story is a positive one. But, grief and pain have been apart of my journey, and that’s normal. I’ve often felt the adoption industry does more to protect the rights and feelings of birth parents and adoptive parents rather than the adoptees themselves. This is not okay. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been told that I should be grateful when expressing my feelings about adoption. These types of comments are not helpful and insensitive. We as adoptees need to raise awareness about adoptee rights and make this process better for others. In raising awareness, I hope to find peace in my own story.

Unconditional Love

I am sharing my story because it is important to see adoption from multiple perspectives.

I was born in Valcea, Romania along with my twin.

We were both quite ill at the time of birth, which forced us to stay at the hospital longer than expected.

Once we were in a better condition, we were placed in an orphanage, Ceausescu’s Daughters.

Based on what I was told, the orphanage was much better compared to some of the other ones in the area.

At the age of two, I was adopted.

At the time, being adopted was a much better option than being in the orphanage. Life in an orphanage was unbearable.

Adoption to me is a positive thing. I think all children deserve a loving family and people who care for them unconditionally.

To date, I still live with my adoptive parents; however, I will soon be moving out with my little girl.

If I didn’t get adopted, I do not know where I would be. I am proud of all my current accomplishments including graduating from college. I am also proud of how hard I've worked to be where I am today.

In the future, I would like to move back to Romania with my little girl and meet my family.

Unsolved Mystery

It's important to let others know that adoption can be a good thing.

I was born in Busan, South Korea.

At five months old, a family from the United States adopted me.

Prior to being adopted, I spent some time with foster moms who took great care of me. I still have photographs of them.

Growing up in the U.S. was interesting. As I recall, I had an amazing childhood with lots of unforgettable memories.

I was never mistreated.

I had multiple close circles of friends.

I attended school as if I were any other kid.

My life could not have been any better.

Despite having wonderful adoptive parents, I still wish I knew something about my birth parents.

Whether it was their names, similarities…anything.

To date, I have a lot of unanswered questions. A significant portion of my life remains a mystery. A mystery that I’ll hopefully solve one day.

For me, adoption is a journey.

A journey that gives me the confidence of accomplishing anything set in front of me.

Searching for Hope

I was born in Feidong, Hefei, Anhui Province of China.

My exact age is unknown, but I was a newborn when I entered the orphanage. I was in an orphanage/foster care until I was adopted at 14 months old.

My orphanage was called the Hefei Social Welfare Institute. I don't remember what it was like, as I was an infant at the time.

I was lucky enough to be placed with a foster family until I was adopted. The couple who fostered me was very nice; I met them again two years ago when I went back to China on a heritage tour.  

It was an amazing tour as I was able to meet other adoptees with similar questions. For once, I felt normal. It was awesome. Meeting my foster parents was interesting. They knew me and I had no connection to them. I felt like an animal in a cage being looked at. But, at the same time, it was reassuring to know I was loved. 

I was adopted on July 27th, 1999.

I’ve lived in Kenosha, Wisconsin majority of my life.

I am an only child. It always bothered me because I wanted siblings, but I made it work.

I grew up in a household where my mom was the "bread winner" and my dad was unemployed. My mom and I have always been best friends, but my dad and I haven't had a good relationship since middle school. We’re just very different people.

I have no information regarding my birth parents at the moment. However, I am trying to look for them. Searching for my birth parents gives me hope. 

Growing up, I struggled with feeling as if my birth parents didn't want me, that they didn't love me. I felt different compared to everyone else around me.

As I got older, I started to read more about adoption, which helped me better understand that my birth parents abandoned me due to government related issues.

Now, I know that my birth parents loved me and most likely think about me still.

Sharing my story is important because I believe people need to know more about adoption. It's not as negative as some people think it is.

A Wounded Soul Soars

In my 32 years of existence, I thought I was the only one experiencing these feelings of alienation and loss.

The grief can be unbearable, and I want other adoptees to know that they are not alone.

I was born in Sungnam City, South Korea, and given up the day after my birth in the winter of 1985. I was placed in a foster home, arranged by Holt Adoption Agency in Sungnam City and was cared for by a woman named Mrs. Han, Jeom Soon. I stayed with her for exactly three months until my adoption was finalized.

In May of 1985, I was placed with my adoptive family in Beaverton, Oregon, a suburb just outside of Portland. My adoptive parents are Caucasians who had three biological sons before adopting me. They wanted another child—specifically, a girl—as my adoptive mom was unable to have more children of her own.

I grew up with a great deal of love and kindness, and had a very happy childhood. However, when I reached my teenage years, the effects of being adopted started to take a toll on me.

Being adopted had never meant that I looked different.

It all started at our school. Kids would comment on my ethnicity and point out the differences. I hated being known as the "adopted Asian kid" at school.

I just wanted to blend in, be "normal," unnoticed. Issues of rejection, abandonment, and loss started to surface. I was angry, depressed, and lonely.

Since then, I’ve spent the majority of my life feeling that I had to prove myself to others.

I had a constant feeling that I was always second best. I've struggled with depression, feelings of insecurity, and the loss of connection and relationship with my Korean family.

I've worked on myself with the help of an amazing counselor who had experience with other adoptees. It has been a long journey of self-acceptance, forgiveness, and challenges.

Now, I’ve shed the broken shell of myself, and accept the love and support from those around me.

It has taken me a long time to get to this point of healing and contentment. It is not easy for a wounded soul, such as an adoptee.

I recognize that I would have never been allowed the opportunities I've been given if I had grown up in poverty. My adoptive parents built a sustainable life for me, and I’ve been able to rise above the hand I was dealt. I've been able to pursue higher education, relationships of my choice, and travel around the world.

Recently, I got in touch with my birth parents and family in Korea. On December 8th, 2016 I found out that my Korean family had received my letter searching for them. Since then, we have exchanged several e-mails and letters via mail weekly. I will be traveling to Korea in a few weeks to go meet with them.

My goals for this year include:

• Successfully start at a new university

• Find a new job related to my major

• Continue working on staying fit

• Continue building and growing my new relationship with my Korean family

Don’t let anything hold you back from pursuing your dreams.

No Man Is An Island

I met my birth mother in January 2017.

It was hard.

Based on what I was told, she was raped at 15 and never wanted to give me away.

She was worried that what had happened to her, would also happen to me.

Before knowing this, rejection was my biggest challenge. I always thought that my mother could have kept me. I always questioned, “Was it truly that hard to keep me?”

This is what I thought as I grew up in a Christian household in Charlotte, North Carolina.

I was adopted through foster care one month after my birth.

Every Wednesday and Sunday, we would attend Christian church and school. In fact, all of my friends went to one of two places: Christian school or church.

Dad woke me up every morning singing, "Rise and shine and give God the glory, glory."

We prayed before every meal—even at restaurants.

My mom had an odd strict side. I wasn't allowed to wear a two-piece swimsuit until my freshman year of high school. PG-13 movies came way after my 17th birthday. She was always the one that put down the law.

I was surprised when I found out that my adoptive mom and birth mom wrote letters back and forth to each other. Supposedly, they couldn’t mail them directly to each other, so The Children's Home Society would pass them along.

Sharing my story is important, as it’s a constant reminder that we are not alone. I never realized how many of us there are. There is a community that is being developed.

No man is an island.

No Better Family

I was born in Guangdong, province of China.

I don't know any of the circumstances regarding my birth, only that I was found and brought to an orphanage at a young age.

I stayed there for ten months with the rest of my Chinese “sisters” until I was adopted on April 15th, 2001. My family and I celebrate it every year as my "Gotcha Day."

At the time of my adoption, I knew nothing about my adoptive family. But, I could not have asked for a better family. My adoptive family has helped me reach my full potential and I can't thank them enough for that.

I am fortunate for being able to create a strong bond with them. They always were and always will be my parents. Not my “adoptive parents”, just my parents. Over the years, we’ve had some challenging moments, but they have always met me with unrelenting love and support—even when I was an unruly young teenager.

I don’t identify myself as an American nor Chinese. Though my parents helped me grow and embrace my Chinese roots by taking me to events that were for Chinese adoptees.

However, some of those events made me feel out of place.

It didn’t help that I had to deal with racism over the years, whether it was from someone who meant it as a vicious attack or a joke.

To this day, I still feel traces of not belonging, but I am getting better about feeling more at home in my mixed Chinese American identity.

I know nothing about my birth parents.

I am constantly asked the question, "Do you want to meet your birth parents?"

It frustrates me when I hear it, even though I have been asked numerous times, but my answer will always be the same.

I have no bad feelings toward them for giving me up, as I know that it was due to the one-child policy under which I was born.

I don't believe I will be actively searching for them.

After looking at the circumstances surrounding my birth, I realize how fortunate I have been to be adopted. Had I not been adopted, I would have lived a life of poverty, farming, and little education with limited room for horizontal or vertical mobility.

I want to let other adoptees know that they are not alone. There are others who share similar stories or struggles.

Know that you always have someone out there to talk to.

My Tribe

My name is Exie Marie Melendez.

My message about adoption is a mixed one: adoption broke my family, but it also saved me.

Both of my biological parents were born and raised in abusive households in Puerto Rico. They met at a drug rehab center, fell in love and moved to the Bronx to escape their lives. I was born in April 1976, in the Bronx, NY—addicted to cocaine and methadone.

I’ll start with my birth mother’s story, as it leads directly to mine.

My birth mother and her siblings were abandoned when they were babies. She was the oldest of all. At four years old, her mother left all of them with their abusive father.

He constantly beat my mother and her siblings.

He, along with some of his friends also raped her.

By the time she was 17, she had two children from an older man she had met. It was then she had met my father, with whom she had three more children.

During my adoption, she met another man and had two more children.

During all of this, my mother's siblings were searching for her. In 1982, my mother passed away at 28 years old. It is believed that she died from pneumonia, caught after my younger sister’s father beat her and left her out in the cold, naked.

My adoptive parents renamed me to Marie. Exie was a very uncommon name, which is why my adoptive parents were terrified that my biological father would act on his threat to find and kidnap me.

From what I was told by my adoptive mother, I was taken away from my parents, but they were given a chance to get their act together. During that time, I was my adoptive parents’ foster child.

My biological parents saw me up until I was eight months old, then my mother stopped coming to see me. She said, “How can I take care of a baby if I can't even help myself?” I continued to live with my foster parents.

At the age of three, there was a custody battle between my foster parents and my biological father. I remember being brought into the courtroom and asked whom I wanted to live with. I was scared as I answered, “My mommy and daddy” (my adoptive parents). I didn't know anyone else. My adoption was finalized on December 30th, 1981.

It was May 2015, when I decided I needed to find my biological family. I called the agency where my adoption took place and, by the grace of God, my guardian angel (in the form of a social worker) helped me. She gave me all of my information, including the names of my birth parents, three older siblings, and the dates of when they were all born.

I now knew that my older half-sister was also given up for adoption and that my two older full siblings (brother and sister) started out in an orphanage. It was a place that my biological father often visited.

When he noticed that my siblings were being abused, he took matters into his own hands. He regained custody of both of them and brought them to Puerto Rico where they were raised by my grandparents.

My adoptive parents had refused to tell me anything regarding my father, except that he was a “monster” as he kidnapped his other children and threatened to kidnap me. I think they tried to instill fear into me, so I wouldn't ask about him anymore. It did just the opposite. I didn't see him as a monster. I saw him as my father who loved his children and wanted them.

On Friday, May 29, 2015, I found my older half-sister and numerous family members, as well as other siblings I had no idea existed. My sister’s Facebook page was inactive for over a year, but my search angel (social worker) found my sister’s son on Facebook. I messaged him and asked if his mother was adopted. He immediately knew who I was and told me that my mother was Iris Melendez. He kept saying, “OMG, you found us. We've been looking for you.”

I asked him to call me. When he did, he explained that I had a younger half sister who I had no idea about, that she had found the family five years earlier. The family had no idea I existed until they found my older brother and sister, who remembered me. They said that growing up; I was always mentioned in my grandparents’ home in Puerto Rico. They even had a picture of me as a baby.

In August, I met my older full sister. She came from Puerto Rico to meet me. It was the most overwhelming/exciting experience of my life.

While driving to the airport, my anxiety was the highest it has ever been. I was shaking. We ran toward each other, hugged, and cried for what seemed like an eternity.

She spent two weeks with me at my home. We had plenty of time to talk, and further develop our bond. I finally found my tribe.

She told me everything she knew about our father and mother. She didn't remember much about our mother since she left after I was born. But, she was able to share stories about our father who she loved very much. She remembered him as being such a loving man who truly did love all of his children.

Then, she told me something that broke me. She said that my father had tried to stay clean, but losing me destroyed him. He began to use drugs again, and in 1989 he died from AIDS. He had three children with my mother, including a son from another woman and myself.

I am truly happy to be reunited with my family of origin. I now live in New Jersey surrounded by my biological family.

Voiceless Minority

I was born in Russia.

A week or two after my birth I was placed in an orphanage.

I don’t remember much of my time at the orphanage, but I know that if I hadn’t been adopted, I would have been there all my life.

In 1999, an Irish couple adopted me.

I’ve had many challenges that I had to overcome since being adopted. I had a difficult time blending in and realizing that I was different.

Being adopted made me respect all adoptees and birth parents. Adoptees and birth parents go through a lot, but still, manage to live their lives.

To date, I have successfully found my birth family and am waiting to reconnect with them.

I am proud that I was able to find my mom and big sister. It made me realize how much I miss them and how proud I am to be adopted.

In September, I will be starting college in Limerick. Hopefully, in the future, I can work as a counselor and speak with my birth family on a regular basis.

I am sharing my story because I want other adoptees to be proud of who they have become.

I want them to not feel sad or hold grudges against their parents for giving them up.

They did what was best for you and that’s all that matters.

They love you so much.

We are a voiceless minority, but our voices do matter. We must speak up for those who are not able to.

The Power of Storytelling

Everyone has a story that includes deep pain, longings, and losses. 

Our stories can bring us together and allow us to connect emotionally, as well as culturally, across boundaries that we might otherwise be unable to bridge. 
 
Due to other people's' lack of sensitivity or interest in truly learning about and listening to who I am, how I think, what I have lost, and what I am searching for, I am all the more sensitive to others' stories, feelings, and perspectives. 
 
I truly believe that learning from other people's' stories and experiences is one of the best ways to combat ignorance, prejudice, and misunderstanding.
 
I was born in Yichun, Jiangxi, China.
 
Two days after my birth, I was found outside of an orphanage. 
 
In July 1994, when I was only a month old, a couple from Boston adopted me. 
 
To date, they have been the most amazing parents that I could have ever imagined. They decided to adopt me, as they weren't able to have children of their own (they had lived in China in the 80s, and knew about the situation for baby girls). 
 
Girls, up until recently, were often selectively aborted or placed for adoption because of the restrictions surrounding the One-Child Policy and the higher value placed on boys who could keep the family name and provide for their elderly parents.
 
To this day, I know that my parents love me unconditionally and would do anything for me. 
 
When I was three, I returned with them to another city in Jiangxi Province, China, to adopt my younger sister, Beth, who I’ve spent the past 19 years with. We're very close as sisters and as a family.
 
Unfortunately, I was too young to remember anything prior to being adopted, but if I had the chance, I would have liked to know more about my Chinese culture, birthplace, and birth family. 
 
I feel a deep sense of loss and disconnect because I am so separate from China’s culture, upbringing, lifestyle, distance, etc.  
 
I’m proud that I have always been curious and courageous about my past. 
 
I’ve always challenged myself to learn the language, culture, and about people, so that I could connect with them when I had the chance to revisit my roots. 
 
At times, it is deeply painful, but I have always had a deep desire to learn, grow, reflect, and fully discover who I am and how my Chinese heritage plays a role in my identity.
 
The most difficult experience that I have faced as an adoptee is the cultural and ethnic disconnect. 
 
Race often identifies and categorizes us in the eyes of others when it is all that they see or know about us. Based on my experience of traveling to China or other parts of Asia, I was often treated with disdain or disrespect because I didn't measure up to "appropriate" or "beautiful" Chinese cultural standards. I was often asked why I couldn't speak Mandarin clearly, why my skin was so dark, or if I could translate for my Caucasian friends.
 
When I am in the U.S., I am often self-conscious about my race upon meeting new people. I always wonder if they see me for who I am. 
 
During some instances where my Chinese features have been my only identifier, I have struggled immensely to overcome deep feelings of resentment and anger toward those who do not know any better, but who abrasively ask questions or make statements out of ignorance or cultural upbringing. 
 
I am ashamed, fearful and embarrassed about a lot of things. 
I am shy and afraid of failure. 
I am afraid to be noticed by others. 
I have always sought to please others and be accepted into whatever communities I find myself in. So, when I find myself misunderstood or rejected by those that I am trying to connect with, it is heartbreaking. 
 
Still, I’d like to be part of a solution. Throughout my life, I have seen both extremely destructive and broken systems, as well as generative and creative ones. 
 
I am still discovering my passion and what I want to do with my life.
 
I want to be a part of something that is advocating for justice, and identifying and reversing broken systems that are in place. 
 
It is through stories that we are able to connect with one another. Stories allow us to learn more about others and ourselves. 
 
Often, while reflecting on my personal experiences, I am challenged to think about my own life and choices in new ways, as well as bring to light questions or issues for others in their own context. 
 
By sharing my story, I am able to continue the process of healing, discovery, and rejuvenation for myself, as well as hopefully inspire, motivate, and connect with others.

Curious

I was born in Kolkata, India.

Presumably, I was "abandoned" by my "birth mother" during the first week of life, but that still remains inconclusive.

I was adopted at three months old. I am the oldest of my three adoptive siblings.

My adoptive mother adopted me, as she could not have children of her own. At the time, her first husband was abusive and had two children. She loved being a stepmother, but their marriage didn’t last long.

She couldn’t let the abuse continue, so she ended it. We do not always get along, but I have a lot of respect for her because she made a difficult decision to leave and start a new life with me.

She remarried when I was about five years old. During their first year of marriage, they adopted my brother and sister. My stepfather - whom I call my dad - also had a lot of problems and grew very distant from me during my adolescent years.

I have a good, but often strained relationship with my adoptive family, as their ideas of adoption and American exceptionalism are very different from the worldview that I have. My parents and I are now on better terms, as my dad is a cancer survivor and his health struggles have led us to reconcile. I know that my mom and dad love my husband and me.

I believe my mom and dad do not have access to a lot of information regarding the challenges of adoption, which is not their fault; however, it has led to problems in our relationship.

They never exposed me to Indian culture, believing it to be inferior to Western culture.

They did not foresee the challenges that came after their children were adopted.

Growing up I only heard negative things about India and didn't meet any other Indian person until I was in middle school. It was almost as if my biological family or cultural origin never existed.

I had my first Indian meal when I was in college. I still try to learn about my native culture as much as I can.

There is a belief in many transracial or international adoptive parents' minds that they are saving their adoptive children as an act of ministry, which may be true, but sometimes it creates an unhealthy mentality of them as a savior or that the child owes them for their wonderful act.

My brother and I are quite different. He is a United States military veteran who is very nationalist. Our views differ quite a bit; my husband and I are political independents who do not think that constant interventionism by the US military abroad is a good thing.

My husband and I have never discussed our political position with my brother, but have written about it. My brother and his wife do not speak to us; they’ve told his in-laws strange things about us. I hope that one day we can all reconcile with my brother because he has close friends who he respects that hold the same views as my husband and me.

Both my brother and sister have the option to get to know their biological families but have no desire to meet them or interact with them. Often adoptive parents are not aware that they depict their children’s biological families in a negative light.

Only recently I began to feel proud of whom I am. Lots of times I feel like I stick out because I am different, but it has taught me to feel empathy for others.

I’m sharing my story because I want adoptees to know that it’s normal to be curious about your biological family or your past.

Be A Voice, Not An Echo

I was adopted from China ten months after my birth.

When I was younger, I thought being adopted was the coolest thing ever.

But, as I got older, I realized how much people didn't really understand what being adopted meant.

People automatically assumed that:

- My adoptive mother isn't my "real" mom

- I didn't know when my "real" birthday was

- I wanted to meet my birth parents

People were trying to make my life seem fake.

I was so young when I was adopted that I had no idea why I was adopted. The fact that I'll never know why is a part of my past that will always be missing.

As much as I want answers, I also don’t. I'm afraid of them.

Being Asian in the United States also comes with the typical Asian stereotypes, but it also comes with those specific to Asian Americans such as being called a “banana” or a “Twinkie” because I'm "yellow on the outside, but white on the inside". These extra names didn't help my self-esteem, nor did it make me feel proud of my background.

I also got criticized for trying to embrace my Chinese culture because I was "doing it wrong" by living in America.

My challenges aren't over.

These are things I have to live with every day.

I can't wake up one day and not be adopted, but I've learned to accept the fact that people’s ignorance can get the better of them and cause them to try to bring you down.

No matter what people say, they can't take away the fact that I’m adopted and that's something that I should be proud of, not ashamed of.

I’m sharing my story to let others know they're not alone.

Throughout my life, I've experienced some things that I feel no one else has experienced, but once I find people who know exactly how I feel or who have gone through the same thing, I always feel better.

I want people to know that they're not the only ones that have insecurities about being adopted.

Be a voice, not an echo, for those who may be scared to share their story.