I was born in central Seoul in 1985 and given up for adoption upon birth. I was the only daughter of the only daughter of a middle class conservative Buddhist family. My mother was unmarried. The choice of adoption was made before I was born and handled in silence by my grandmother. I spent one day with my mother before going to the KSS orphanage, where I was given a modernized version of my mother’s name. I grew up in a homogenous rural coastal town in Denmark.
They gave me a Danish name with no reference to my Korean heritage – and an upbringing to match it. I eventually changed my name three times over the course of 35 years – for various reasons. I always knew I would go back to Korea, and at 20 years old I wrote a letter to KSS, booked an open-ended ticket to Seoul and left for a one-semester college experience at a university near Busan; a Korean culture and language program. It was my first time on an airplane since that very first baby blue KLM airplane that took me away. It was an overwhelming, wonderful and bizarre experience. I remember meeting my roommate, Jin Hee, whose mother owned a noodle restaurant in Busan and who could consume a large bowl of bubbling jjambbong ramyeon in a matter of seconds, and who studied political science while aspiring to become a Korean Air flight attendant. I wanted to be a little bit like her; bubbly, beautiful and Korean.
I had been in Kimhae for a few months when I was contacted by KSS. As it turned out, they had been in contact with my mother for six months prior but she had been unsure whether she was ready to meet with me. They had told her that I was in Korea now which had swayed her to meet me prematurely. I got on a train to Seoul, where I met a friend who had agreed to be my translator. At KSS I was greeted by the very social worker, Mrs. Kim, who handled my adoption at infancy; my lifetime suddenly felt like a short leap. She took me to the next room to meet my mother. I noticed instantly that she was taller than I; porcelain skin, wearing a navy blue, buttoned dress. She looked young and old at the same time. She greeted me with a hand shake. No tears. She had brought me a box of jewelled hair pins and some gold jewellery originally gifted to her by my father. She was also surprised to see I was shorter than her and thought I looked more like my father. She said that with some disappointment. She kept referring to him as a ‘very ambitious person’ (I believe he abandoned her for that same reason). That summer I had just been accepted to medical school in Denmark, and when I told her with some degree of pride she became upset at my ambitions, which was an unusual reaction. Somehow she later recanted explaining to me that I must be very smart because she read so many books while pregnant; she explained how she was sent country-side and spent almost all of it in solitary confinement. It was a very formal meeting in spite of her Korean candidness. Afterwards she wanted to take me to lunch at Namsan Tower. She told my translator that she had married and her family knew nothing of my existence, which meant some bravery on her part for meeting me and taking me out. She never bore another child, but soon after went to raise my cousin (who is my senior by one year) after his mother died, and ten years later she adopted a son, who remains unaware of his own adoption. She wanted to hide this adoption from me as well and told my translator in confidentiality. She felt certain that all adoptees have happy lives and took much comfort in that. It was a lot to take in. I never contradicted her. I had an adoptee brother in Denmark who would go on to commit suicide two years later. Him and so many others.
We met two or three times that year (I stayed in Kimhae for four months and Seoul for two months). Then I went back to Denmark to study. That following year I returned to Korea for vacation, to revisit friends and to reunite with my mother. I had made a lunch appointment with her, which she kept postponing. Eventually she cancelled it and stopped answering my calls or messages. I stopped trying and have not spoken with her since. I wrote her a letter several years later when I had my first child. I had it placed in my folder at KSS in case she ever decided to contact me again, although, I was very conflicted when I did so. Perhaps meeting me was closure to her. It left me with a sense of abandonment; she was the gateway to all of my relatives and had denied me access for the second time in my life. She gave me no siblings or extended family and opted never to reveal anything about my father. I think I was more hurt at that time, then angry, then, I suppose, okay after all. I sometimes used to envy those whose relatives will never leave them alone or those greeted with tears and hugs, even though I realize that no reunion is simple. Some might envy me and in a way rightfully so; I found my mother. Although it would appear that the void I left behind in my mother seems to have been more of a vacuum to consume. Did she even out my adoption by adopting another child?
I sometimes wonder about the significance of the fact that I my back-up device failed shortly after our last visit causing me to permanently lose all my photos of her. Or the fact that someone broke into my apartment two years later and stole all of my jewellery including that box full of inexpensive hair pins. I have one butterfly pin left (incidentally left in a bag) and her image in my mind. I went on to live in Seoul for two more years but eventually returned to Denmark to resume and complete medical school. My time in Seoul was chaotic but life-changing. I am thankful to have met her but regretful of the things I never told her and the questions I thought I had time to ask.
Today, my children often ask me about my mother in Korea and I tell them what I know. I took them to Korea and am sometimes surprised to see how my oldest son (6 years old) is developing a stronger Korean identity than I ever had… Perhaps dealing with some of these issues early in my life enabled my children to develop an unbiased relationship to Korea.
When adoptees ask me about birth family search, I tell them
- Before you search, prepare yourself for multiple outcomes; adoptions are rooted in trauma. Not all families are ready to meet and in many cases you will find yourself in a situation of being the family secret
- Clarify what your own expectations are
- Prepare yourself for boundaries of culture, language and emotions. It may be advisable to gain some understanding of Korean society before searching for/meeting family as it may be overwhelming to tackle it all at once
I wish for Korea that circumstances for single mothers improve. I’m saddened to realize that even today it is more acceptable for a single woman in Korea to raise her orphaned nephew or niece than her own child. I am proud of my Korean heritage yet sometimes I feel saddened that there was no place there for me.
