I am an adopted Korean (AK). The concept never really phased me. I got a few "chinky eye" related comments throughout my formative years, but nothing that really scarred me. I look nothing like my very Scandanavian parents. Pretty sure that didn't phase either them or me. It was just the way of the world - white parents, Asian kids, and a host of white step-siblings. As a kid, my mom offered a few times to send me to Korean culture camps - but I was too busy playing the piano, going to swim camp, being a Girl Scout, etc. that I never really identified with my AK status. With the exception of my brother, I didn't have any Asian friends, I only dated white guys, I was only mediocre at using chopsticks, knew absolutely zero about martial arts and I figured I was your typical All-American girl. In fact, I thought it was so normal to be an AK that it never really dawned on me that there were actually Asian kids that were not, in fact, adopted until I went to college and I met my now-husband. Throughout college, I identified more as a swimmer than as an Asian and I definitely didn't join the Korean Student Association. I just didn't get it. I never felt the desire to only hang out with people that looked like me, figuring that I would just hang out with people that I liked regardless of what they looked like.
It wasn't until law school that I really started embracing my Asian-ness or lack thereof. As it turns out, those Asians, especially us adopted ones, are a pretty fun bunch with many similar war stories - like when people ask you, "how do you say 'hello' in your language?" I joined the Asian Law Students Association, the Asian Bar, and I even managed a position on the Board of Directors for AK Connection, a Minneapolis based non-profit for adopted Koreans. My "real" Korean husband also seemed to add to my legitimacy. He was very useful giving a kimchi-making lesson to the AKs. In fact, most of my close friends in law school were Asian, and even my white friends would joke that they were more Asian than I was. While I never really identified with the need to seek out my biological parents or live in a place where everyone "looked like me," I made some lifelong friends through these organizations.
These days, people see my last name and then are surprised when they meet me in person. They are even more surprised when they know my last name and see a family photo. A former boss even asked me, "how did that happen?" Well, it's kind of a funny story ... actually it isn't. My last name doesn't match my surficial ethnic background. I'm adopted, and as my good friend Wendy would say, deal with it.
In terms of being adopted, I can only speak on the basis of my experiences. And my experience tells me this - regardless of what color your parents (or your kids) are or whether you pushed that kid out or that kid came escorted via airplane the love between a parent and child is profound. The struggles and challenges that come with having children whether they be morning sickness or immigration laws, the parent-child bond in my opinion is the same. My parents would have done anything for me and I would do the very same for my kids.
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