Resurfacing

For the past few months, I haven't thought about adoptee stuff at all. 

I stopped teaching myself Korean. 

I dropped out of all adoptee group activities. 

I stopped reading books about adoption. 

I stopped therapy for the most part. 

I think it was a combination of things. 

The culmination of the work I had done on identity and my sense of self was going to Korea. After getting back, I was riding high on the rush of coming back from a life changing experience and when that died off I was left with a weird feeling of "And now what...?" 

Also soon after I got back from Korea, I dated an fellow Korean adoptee. We shared a lot in common about how we felt about identity and adoption. It was the first time I had dated someone who was adopted and that commonality is strong because no one else can understand what it is like. 

It was also the first time I had dated someone Korean and having that sense of identity mirrored back was a new experience. I grew up with white parents in a primarily white town. Boyfriends in the past have been different ethnicities but dating someone who looked so similar to me was a new experience. Living on the West Coast is the first time I have spent time with Asian Americans. I remember when I was younger, I could never see myself dating someone who was Asian because I had a lot of anxiety about other people discriminating against me more. I was afraid the instances of people speaking to me slowly in English or think I was culturally Asian would increase. It seems silly now, even offensive, but it reinforces how strongly I used to feel as if  "I am me, and those are Asian people. I'm not white but I'm not them- I'm something different." I also had this weird fear that people would think I was vain if I dated someone Asian because they'd look like me...Wow, that's embarrassing to type out loud...but it's painfully true. It was nice to know that I had put those fears to rest and that I had actually come out on the other side. It was comforting to date someone who had a shared identity and it helped me shape my view of my own. I can't explain in what ways or how or why, but it was transformative, even though that word sounds cheesy to me :) 

Ultimately, it was brief. He and I were in very different places and we parted ways. Afterwards, I pushed away everything that had to do with adoptee issues. Adoptee schtuff had become the center of my world- the filter that every other part of my life was seen through. I reminded myself that for 27 years it was a minimal part of my life- almost non-existent. I felt like I had to get back to a place to where being an adoptee was a part of my identity but not my whole identity. 

I focused on auditioning again, started an Etsy shop, visited New York, and I started dating someone who is lovely and amazing and while not an adoptee, shares the experience of being Asian American and navigating the gray area between being American and being prideful of being Asian. 

But adoptee ish has been rearing it's head once again- often times in ways that take me by surprise. 

I kind of (naively) thought. "You know, maybe I'm over all the adoptee stuff. I did the work, squared it away, and I can close the book on that part of my life. Now it's a part of my identity and I can move forward with no strings attached."  

But alas, that is not the case, and will most likely, never be the case. 

- I still feel awkward and kind of guilty when Korean people talk to me in Korean and I have to explain I don't speak Korean. 

- I had 2 Korean Americans say the other night, "God, I wish I was adopted. I would have loved to grow up with White parents." It wasn't pointed at me, but it made my blood boil. 

- I got into a drunken conversation with someone about how it worries me when people say, "If I can't have kids, I'll just adopt." Which made me question my own feelings on adoption. I realized later, I am pro-adoption but I want adopting parents to realize that adopting is more than taking a child in and making them your own. I was listening to a researcher on adoption the other day and she said that in America there was a cultural shift towards adoption- it used to focus on needy kids finding a home, orphans taken in by other community members, and then it changed to needy parents wanting children when parents facing infertility outnumbered children in need due to the rise of birth control and the social acceptance of single motherhood. 

- I get really bothered by adoptees who have different views on adoption than I do. I get really upset when I hear people describe themselves as bananas or twinkies. "I know I should like kim chi but it's gross." "Did someone order rice yet? Because, you know, we're Asian so we have to have some rice."

  Maybe it is because those comments all relate to this idea that because we are Korean we should socially perform in a certain way to prove to people we are Korean or that there are things that should be inherently in us, besides the way we look, that are Korean despite not having grown up in that culture. 

  It is a question that I have mentioned in previous posts: Besides looking Korean, how do we connect to Korea and Korean culture when it isn't a culture we were raised in? and what is the importance that we do? 

Little instances like the ones I just mentioned remind me that adoptee identity is an ongoing process, unique to each individual. For me, the pendulum swings back and forth. Sometimes I feel a strong draw to Korean identity and adoptee identity and sometimes I feel really disconnected from it. I guess the most important part is not to feel an obligation to either part- to not feel guilty when I don't feel connected to it and to follow my interests in it surfaces. 

I went looking for a podcast or something to listen to about the Korean adoptee experience and I found this: Adoptees and the Politics of Belonging

It is a presentation by a Korean American, that is not adopted, about research into the Korean Adoptee experience. She touches on a lot of really interesting adoptee issues. The population crisis happening in South Korea as a result of adoption, the culture surrounding the conditions of adoption in Korea, the culture of adoptees trying to form a sense of identity among each other. 

The question answer portion was tough to listen to for me. People were asking the presenter, with varying levels of sensitivity, questions regarding the adoptee experience. I had a hard time with the way some of them posed questions, referring to adoptees as a collective "they." "I've heard they end up having identity crises later in life." "Do they all want to find their birth parents?" "I met an adoptee who has no desire to know anything about Korea and I think that's weird because I find Korea fascinating." 

The presenter handles their questions with a great deal of sensitivity and explains that each adoptee's experience is vastly different. Also that adoptees often feel an instant kinship to other adoptees despite their different upbringings, but each adoptees' feeling towards Korea, adoption, and identity are different. 

I really recommend taking a listen to it :) 

This is real life.

Let me preface this story with- I am not saying I am surprised and outraged by the following conversation. 
I want to share it as an example of what happens to me on a regular basis. 
This kind of conversation has taken place many, many times before.
It connects to my previous post about the fact that this is how I am viewed by the culture around me, while feeling disconnected to the culture I am assumed to be. 

INTERIOR- Afternoon

An estate sale inside a house in Ballard. A young Asian American woman, 28, is looking through clothes, books, and household items. A man, Caucasian, late 50s-early 60s, approaches.

Man: Do you like New York?

Woman: I'm from New York.

Man: Really? Where? Brooklyn?

Woman: No, I'm from Upstate, Rochester.

Man: Ahhh...Ni hao ma.

Woman: I don't speak Chinese.

Man: What languages do you speak?

Woman: English.

Man sighs heavily, annoyed.

Man: Yeah, but you don't have an accent like New York. Where are you from?

Woman, who has been speaking with a perfect American accent answers confidently.

Woman: I was born in Korea. I grew up in New York.

Man: Bangapseumnida.

Woman looks at him quizzically and continues to shop.

Man: I spent some time in Korea. Seoul is a great city. Busan...eh, I didn't care for it much. But Seoul, if you were to go there today...well, you wouldn't even recognize it.

Woman ignores Man's comments and continues to walk through the house.
Man exits the house to the sidewalk.  Woman selects a few item, pays, and then exits the house.

CONT' EXTERIOR- Afternoon

Man: Bangapseumnida. Bangapseumnida. What do you do?

Woman: I'm a nanny.

Man: That's important work. I used to work with autistic kids- had a couple of savants. Now one works for Microsoft. He can look through data and find errors like  that-

Man snaps his fingers.

Woman smiles politely as she fishes her keys in her purse.

Woman: Uh- huh

She unlocks car then drives away.



So what's wrong with this conversation? 
- When I said I spoke English, I meant it. I don't speak Korean yet.
- He told me I don't have a 'New York' accent...implying I have what kind of accent?
- My reaction was cold and I totally shut down.

What is the most troubling to me, in the age of Facebook, is that we'd say, "That's racist" or "He's a jerk."

Facebook and HuffPo and Buzzfeed are constantly telling me to be outraged by things like that.

Racist is an inflammatory word that nobody wants to be called. 

This man was ignorant and presumptuous.

My reaction to the situation allows him to continue down that path.

I HATE being the advocate for diversity- I HATE IT.

But I could I have easily said to him, "I was born in Korea but I am American. I grew up in New York since I was 4 months old. I don't speak Korean. I speak English."

This is the dilemma: 

I look Korean,
I am American.

Often times, Americans want to prove how worldly they are by showing me how much they know about Korea- they know some Korean phrases, they love Korean food, they taught English in Korea...

This is meant as an offering- "See? I'm cool with you."
But it comes across as something different to my ears because it's a reminder that you see me as Korean, not American.

A: Where are you from?
B: I'm from New York.
A: Uh...But, I mean, Where are you from?

To me, my answer was clear: "I'm from New York."

In this 4 word sentence, I have just revealed how I identify culturally. The person who asks does not see that answer, and wants to entertain their own curiosity, not necessarily with ill intent.

I can give him the spiel of how I was born in Korean but was adopted, grew up in New York and have lived in Seattle for the past 2 years. It would be easy.
It's just one long run on sentence.

The problem doesn't lie in WHAT I have to do.
The problem lies in WHY I have to do it.

Why do I have to explain to you why I don't speak Korean?
When I tell you I'm from New York, why are you not satiated?
Why, when speaking in a perfect American accent, do you tell me that I don't sound like I'm from New York?

If a Caucasian American at a dinner party was asked, "Where are you from?" and they replied, "Well, I was an invitro-fertilization in a clinic in Colorado but then my mother, while pregnant with me, moved to South Carolina, where I was born. I don't have a Southern accent because my mother is actually from Colorado and my father, he's from Boston so sometimes when I say "car" you can hear it. Are you picking up on that?"
They would sound totally CRAZY!!!!!!!!!
But this is how I am expected to explain myself all the time. It's tiring.

We really have to stop using the word 'racist' so freely.
To me, 'racist' means- 'I believe one race is more superior to the other.'
What we're experiencing is insensitivity and ignorance along side misguided displays of acceptance.
Stereotypes that are perpetuated by the media saying- this is this and that is that.

It is frustrating being the teachers and advocates.
But we're going to create a larger divide with inaction.

Now what?

I look different to myself.

I can't explain it.
There was a moment when I was in Korea, I looked at myself in the mirror, and I looked different to myself.
We were in Gyeongju. It was halfway through our trip.
I can't tell you what changed or what appears different to me now.
It's not as simple as "I look more Korean to myself."
I know it's not negative but it's also not like, real touchy feely Eve Ensler type of "I finally came into my own to embrace my identity" feeling either...
I thought it would go away after I got back but it didn't. I still look in the mirror and I look different to myself.
I like it. It's just up my alley of woo-woo, "the universe is a magical mystical place" type stuff.

It has been two and a half months since I've been back. It feels like it was longer ago.

Everything is the same but slightly different.
I feel more centered. I feel more whole. A lot less anxiety. I've begun a bunch of different projects since I have been back- arts for children projects, teaching myself Korean, reading more. I have focused on relationships that are healthy and supportive, untethered myself from the unhealthy relationships in my life, and found closure with relationships that had loose ends. I am happy with work and am diving back into the performing arts.

Many people ask me if going to Korea answered all my questions or if I found what I was looking for or if it seemed like I could close a chapter of my life now.
In some ways, I did find answers. I was able to see a culture and a country that is connected to how people see me. Now when people say, "You're Korean? I love Korea." I can say, "Me too!" instead of thinking, "I probably know less about Korea than you do."
I was able to meet incredibly kind generous people who wanted to give me back my lost history.
I was able to better understand a culture, very different from my own, that thought adoption was the best answer. To be more assured that the words, "Your mother wanted you to have a better life," are more true than my dark fear of "Your mother didn't want you."

But it is not a chapter book, it's a long road that has a lot of distinct mile markers along the way.

Recently I've been trying to figure out the answer to "What now?"

There were 26 years of not feeling Korean at all and all of my adoptee "schtuff" was buried deep, deep, deep down inside.
There was a year of therapy where I talked and talked about EVERYTHING surrounding adoption and my feelings and my identity.
There were seven months of waiting between knowing I was going to Korea and going to Korea.
There were 14 days of being in Korea, for the first time, with a group of strangers.
There were 2 months of coming home and talking about my trip, writing about it, and processing it.

And now...(sound cue of air slowly hissing out of a balloon)

I am American but I look Korean.
Now I've seen Korea and met Koreans and it was a positive experience.
But what about me is Korean other than the way I look?
I will never be culturally Korean unless I go live in Korea.
How do I connect to the Korean aspect of myself and more importantly, why do I feel such a strong responsibility to do so? 

-I enjoy cooking and eating Korean food, but it will not make me more Korean.
-I have tried to watch K-dramas and listen to Korean music, and while it is entertaining, I can't relate to it.
-My skin is so dark now that I can't imagine it fading to the light olive tone that meets my bikini lines and the dark tone is a dead giveaway I am not a citizen of Korea.
-Learning Korean is a long road ahead which I'm working towards, but can see it being years before I can hold a real conversation.
-It makes me skin crawl when adoptees say, "I'm a twinkie" (yellow on the outside and white on the inside) or when adoptees say, "I'm so Asian because _____" (choose your own stereotype: I like Hello Kitty, I love sushi, I'm good at math)

A part of the answer is that I have the power to pick and choose how I want to incorporate Korea into my life. 
My problem is that I haven't found an answer that feels authentic yet.
I can't help feeling like it's a big display.
How to do it in a way that doesn't feel like I'm the girl who went to Paris for a semester and came back with a fake accent, wearing a beret and starting sentences with, "Well, in Europe we..." with a mouthful of baguette?

Of course the difference between me and the annoying girl from high school is that I am Korean. I was born there. I look Korean. Somewhere in Korea, there is a group of people going about their daily lives that have the same blood as me.

But it's a part of my identity that I was denied that I can't get back, while also being a part of my identity that is at the forefront of how I am seen in the world. 

How do I reconcile the idea that I'm not seen as totally American in America and not totally Korean in Korea? Is incorporating aspects of a culture I did not grow up in but is a part of how I am seen by the rest of the world important? How am I benefiting from that? How am I a part of Korea and how is Korea a part of me? 

Maybe I'll find more pieces when I travel back by myself next year. I know there isn't a concrete answer. It'll slowly grow and change and evolve and when it comes down to it, it's whatever I want it to be...but I just can't wrap my brain around it right now.

Adoption Books

I think I've ODed on adoption literature. Can't. Read. More...

That being said, they were great and I got something out of each one of them.

If you only read one, I recommend The Primal Wound.
The title and cover threw me a bit- it looked like it was a little too woo-woo and feely.
I hemmed and hawed over buying it. I thumbed through it three or four times at Elliott Bay Books before buying it. I'm glad I did.

Here's a list of what I've read. 
The book titles are linked to the book on Amazon.com.

1. The Primal Wound by Nancy Newton Verrier  

A mother of an adoptee has written a book that describes many facets of the adoptee experience. Interviews and examples.

• There is good focus on issues surrounding transracial adoption. 

• There were some effects of the adoption experience in her book I did not relate to but much of it I did. 

• It also gives the adoptee a well rounded outlook on what a reunion with birth family could hold- the good and the bad.

• My favorite concept from the book is that there is a triad of loss: The birth mother who gives up her child, the adoptee who is taken away from her birth family, and the adoptive mother who is mourning not having a child of their own (they are assuming that the adoptive mother cannot have children or have more children biologically). This idea is also suggesting that each person in the triad may not be consciously mourning these losses but that they're operating on some level within us.  

2. I Wish for You a Beautiful Life: Letters from the Korean Birth Mothers of Ae Ran Won to Their Children by Sara Dorow

Korean birth mothers at a center for unwed mothers in Korea write letters to their children as a part of their healing process. An editor has selected letters for the book. The book mentions that the letters are written in a very poetic style so they use a lot of dramatic and descriptive language.

• It was a great read- and a quick read- but after a while the letters are a bit repetitive. 
• Some letters resonated more than others. I felt like from reading the letters and knowing my own story, I was piecing together a fictional letter from my own mother to me.  

• Growing up in the US, I think it was hard to understand how women were seen having children out of wedlock. After reading the book, I have a greater understanding of the cultural context surrounding birth mothers and adoption.  I had been told me whole life that my mother gave me up for adoption because unwed mothers in Korea are looked down upon. She was also very poor with many responsibilities- taking care of her younger brothers. My mother wanted me to have a better life and requested that I go to the United States.   

• What surprised me about the book was how many birth mothers thought that their children would grow up and hate their mothers for giving them away. They were all fearful of the anger and resentment their children would hold for them. 

3. Once They Hear My Name by Ellen Lee 

Extensive interviews are conducted with Korean adoptees about their experiences and feelings towards identity and adoption. Instead of transcribing the interviews in a Q&A format, the author took their interview and wrote a first person narrative that each adoptee then approved.

• The content of the book is great in theory but there is a weird flatness to the way the stories are written that makes it tough for me to read. I think that it lacks depth from being told as if it was in the first person while not actually being told in the first person. It comes across as "I was adopted. Then I felt sad and alone. I felt like an outsider. I thought I was white. Then I met Korean people at Korean culture camp. Then I went to college. Then I learned Korean. Now I feel more like myself."   It would have been a great documentary film.   

• Many aspects of their stories are relatable- growing up as the only person of color, meeting Korean people for the first time, going to Korea, searching for birth families, etc.

• I would recommend this book to people who haven't had the experience of meeting other adoptees to talk about their experiences or are just starting to explore the impact of adoption on their lives.

4. Journey of the Adopted Self: A Quest for Wholeness by Betty Jean Lifton 

This was the first book about adoption that I read. The title is pretty self explanatory.

• For me, this book didn't cover a lot about transracial adoption which was my main interest.

•  It was a good book and gave me lots to think about. It kind of opened the door to me exploring more about the effects of my adoption. 

Asian American Experience & Entertainment

Fresh Off the Boat is coming to ABC. It's the story of Eddie Huang's family. Taiwanese immigrants that move from DC to Orlando so his father can live out the 'American Dream.' The story is told from the parents' perspective as well as the kids.

There have been a lot of polarizing posts about the show within the Asian community. Some say that it's the representation that the Asian community that has been lacking for years. Some say that it's perpetuating stereotypes.

I've thought a lot about it and I think there are pros and cons to the premise of the show.

1. It is one person's memoir made into a TV show. It is from a book he wrote. The title is the same title as his memoir. It is not meant to be the sole representation of Asian American life. It is his story. In his words. With a title that he feels comfortable with.

2. You hang out with a group of Asian Americans and they will tell you similar stories to that of Eddie Huang. The struggle to find acceptance. Being called racist slurs. Having to prove you are American when you aren't Caucasian.

3. The premise of the show is a fish out of water story and that makes me uncomfortable. They want to be American so badly- but can't quite blend in. Despite making jokes about the culture they've found themselves in, and some of that culture's absurdity, most of the humor stems from the fact that they don't fit in.

4. I can laugh at these jokes because I can relate to them. People who haven't been through similar experiences are laughing for a different reason. 'Laughing at' instead of 'Laughing with.'
    This kind of exposure, to these kind of jokes, encourages people to re-tell these jokes to me- which I don't find funny- and then they don't understand why it didn't make me laugh, it made me defensive. They are telling similar jokes to what they see on shows like these. Often times, it's a way of saying, "See!!! I GET the joke" but it doesn't come off that way. Why? Because they lack ownership of the experience.

So that got me thinking-

What would the perfect representation of Asian Americans in mainstream pop culture look like?

The show Traffic Light did it well- even though that show was short lived. One of the 3 main characters was married to an Asian woman and they had a baby. The baby was bi-racial. Her ethnicity never came up and they were happily married. She didn't have an accent. The husband wasn't taken to ethnic cultural ceremonies where he felt out of place as a Caucasian male. She was successful without making it seem like she was a smart BECAUSE she was Asian. The fact that they were a bi-racial couple was never brought up- like in real life.

I would like to see Asian Americans in mainstream pop culture without a justification of WHY they are Asian. It is that simple.

But then that denies the problems that exist within the Asian American experience...

Maybe I'd like to see a show that featured Asian Americans where, once their characters were established, issues that stemmed from race were explored without being exploited...

I don't know the answer. Thoughts?

I was recently at a open discussion about sustainability in the theatre community in Seattle.
The only people of color in the room was me and a Filipina woman. She brought up the idea of racial diversity and sustainability.

She voiced that sometimes people of color don't feel comfortable going certain auditions because of race. For example, a period piece or a show that revolves around a nuclear family.

She and I spoke to the fact that we were Asian American women that didn't want to be pigeon holed into doing plays that centered around Asian American or Asian issues. We wanted to have the same opportunity as everyone else to audition and be cast without attention being drawn to our ethnicity.

At this point, two young Caucasian males spoke up. One young man said, "Why don't we create a forum on TPS' website for minorities to get together, talk to each other, and create a play about their struggles?" The other young man said that he was often discouraged from going to an audition because the character description called for a person of a specific cultural and/or ethnic background other than Caucasian and he knew he couldn't audition for a part and that that was worse and/ or the same thing.

Were these comments racist? No.
Were they ignorant? Yes.

These young men meant no offense but they missed the point of what we were talking about in such a way that perfectly proved our point.

What is the answer? How can we build to a higher ground?

When I have ______ I will be happy forever.

We are so sold as a society to think: Once I have ______ I will be happy forever.
Founnd a husband.
That promotion.
A baby.
Beat cancer.
Enough money.
A house.
Found your birth parents...

In reality, we are constantly weighing the happiness with the sadness. The triumph and the defeat.
If you are lucky, the happiness surpasses the sadness, or you can hold both at the same time with equal amounts of pride and joy.  If you are struggling to balance or feel far from the equilibrium, keep fighting because when you struggle and succeed, you have earned it. Be patient, the pay off will come. The universe has treasures in store that are unforeseen.

I was reminded of that today. 
From Facebook, it seems like I am doing great being back from Korea. I posted photos of food I cooked, art I made, and my partner and I climbing a mountain.

The reality is that I am struggling. I wondered to myself- "Are you saying everything is ok because it is or because you want it to be?" I had a week home where close friends wanted to hear my stories, people patted me on the back for going, and I was high off of the buzz of being there. I started new projects and I was so busy I didn't feel anything negative.

Now I am back. I'm settling in. I feel good but changed. There are changes in my friendships. I am having weird dreams. I have had some interesting social interactions with Asian women all of a sudden coming up to me saying, "We're both Asian!" and expecting a comradery that I have never had happen before and I am wondering, "Why now?"....is it a coincidence that this has happened 3 times this week?

I am trying to navigate the waters of what has changed and how to adapt. How do I bring a changed self into a world of the old self- what stays, what goes, what's new?

Maybe one of my ways of coping, which worked for me for so much of my life is to say, "Hey everyone!!!! I'm fine!!!! Look at me! I beat the stereotype. I win!!!!!!" I didn't mean to. I didn't consciously react that way, but now I am wondering if that was what was going on.

I thought I was fine sharing my story. The reasons I thought I was fine was because I carefully picked the people I told it to. I met up with friends that were good listeners or struggled with identity in some other way and could relate to the thing I was telling them.

This week I realized 2 things: 
       1. I am not ready to share my story with people who are looking at me for help- who are looking at my experience and weighing it against whether they are ready to make a similar trip. This is not to say the people looking for help are wrong for asking. I am saying that I am not ready to offer that support. I am still sorting through it because I don't understand what it means. I don't know. If you ask me if you should go on a group trip, all I can share with you is my experience on my own trip. I am a totally different person with a totally different group on a totally different experience than you will have.
 If you are asking someone who just came back from their trip to share their story, listen intently, internalize it, and decide for yourself if you think you are ready. If you know you are ready, decide in what capacity you want to go back- a tour, alone, or with friends.
You could listen to 10,000 adoptee stories about going back to Korea and no one will have the same reaction, same opinion, or same experience that you will have. But I recommend it: listen to as many stories as you can because even though you might not relate to every emotion or moment in their story, you'll be able to relate to parts of it and better prepare yourself for your own experiences.
Other adoptees can clue you in on what emotions might surface that you can prepare yourself for. For example, I mentioned this in an earlier post: I didn't know how I would feel towards people in my group that found their birth parents. Would I be resentful towards them? Would I be sad? Would I be jealous? I went in prepared for all of those feelings but in the end I was so happy for the people who found their parents that I, personally, didn't feel any of the negative emotions I was worried I'd feel.  
I am hippie- dippie-woo-woo so take that advice with a grain of salt: You'll arrive at your own truth and realization. If you have the intent that you are ready to go to Korea, in mind, body and spirit, I believe the universe will guide you where you need to go.
       2. I am also not ready to defend myself. If people would like to listen and ask questions about how I feel, I am happy to share, but if they are looking at me to ask questions, have me respond, and then make counter arguments to my opinions about it- I am not ready. I'm overly sensitive. I had a discussion with a non-adoptee about adoptee parents' motivations to adopt. I tried to give a broad spectrum of different types of families that take in relinquished children, and they told me I was being small minded. I was voicing my concerns that not all parents but some, no matter how well intended their motivations are, sometimes miss the mark of the adoptee experience. I meant, I worry about adoptees in those types of situations.

I am also not saying that people need to be 100% politically correct with me for all time. People don't need to walk on eggshells worrying they'll offend me. I will tell people when I don't feel comfortable talking about something- but when I do say I don't want to talk about it- I mean it. I am not a debater. I am a listener. I am thinker. I will absorb it but I will not fight back to persuade. Don't try and push me to defend myself because I don't like it. It's not a part of who I am.

Right now, a week after being home, I am sensitive, confused, frustrated, and tired-so if I seem that way, I am. At the same time, I am happy to be home and with people I love. I am happy to be back in America and not just identify as a Korean Adoptee- to be able to remember I am a million other things as well. But I have thoughts racing through my head like firecrackers.

Going to Korea wasn't closure- it was an awakening that I am still trying to understand. 

Should I go to Korea in a group?

I have had a lot of people ask if they'd recommend going to Korea for the first time with a group on a tour or by themselves or with a group of friends.

That depends...

It depends on:

• Are you a group person? 
• Are you an itinerary person? 
• Do you need a lot of time to yourself and privacy? 
• Do you want to be with other adoptees that are experiencing Korea for the first time? 
• Are you ok with being with a group of people you haven't met? 
• What do you want out of the experience: to experience Korean daily life or see lots of things in Korea or both? 
• Where are you financially? (Many groups will sponsor or partially sponsor your trip)
• Do you only have a specific window of time to travel or can you go when the organization is planning a trip?
• If you're thinking of going with friends, are they on their own agenda or are they willing to be your guide? In other words, are they going back and you're going with them or are they going with you to help you or both? 

My apprehensions about a tour- before changing my mind and thinking it was a good idea.
"I don't want to be a tourist in Korea. I want to go with someone I know who is Korean. I want to stay with their family or in a hostel. I want to do what I do every time I travel- try to blend in the best as possible. Eat what the locals eat. Do what the locals do. Live the life I would have lived if I grew up there. I don't want to search for my birth parents. I just want to see what Korea is like. I don't want to go with a group of adoptees and stick out. Putting on a hanbok, making kim chi, and going site seeing is NOT going to make me feel more Korean."


My reasons for choosing a tour: 

1. I am impulsive. I spent 27 years not being ready to go to Korea. When I decided I was ready to go, I HAD to go. 
2. I had no money. 
3. After a year of talking to other adoptees, I knew being in a group with other adoptees going through the same emotions would bebeneficial. (Did I get along with everyone in the group? No. Were there times I felt like, "Oh my God, I can't be around you right now" to people I DID like on the trip? Yes. But I can genuinely say it was in a "You're a part of my family. I love you. But seriously, go away" sort of way) 
4. The trip that I ended up going on paid for everything but my airfare for a 2 week trip. (Seriously, everything. I spent money there but it was on coffee and souvenirs) 
5. They planned everything. I didn't have to think at all before I left except book my ticket. 
6. This tour included a birth parent search and a file review. 
7. I knew a trip like this would give me a good idea of how to approach another trip back by myself. 

I loved the tour I went on. 

My group was amazing.
Like I said, being in a group was not sunshine and roses and warm fuzzy thoughts every moment of the trip. We were 11 strangers from all over the world with different objectives of what we wanted to get out of the trip. We were different personalities all coping with high levels of stress, anxiety, and insecurities.
That said, this experience bonded us from the start. I looked around the room at the 10 other people and thought, "This is it. 2 weeks. Non-stop. These people are my people. Make it work." There is a level of comradery from the start. We all share the experience of being transracially adopted. We all had a level of bravery to fly across the world to share this experience. No one else will experience what we are about to experience.

Everything was taken care of.
Food. Itinerary. Site seeing and activities. Accommodations.
We saw a lot of Korea- Gyeong Ju, Jeju, Busan, Sokcho.
We did a lot of things that I would never have gone to on my own- folk villages, landmarks, etc.
I am not a history person but learning about Korea's history helped me understand the people and a culture that thought adoption was the right choice.
Participating in cultural activities that I initially thought were cheesy, made me feel prideful.


Things to consider: (This is based on MY tour. Every tour is different, so research)

• I was with my group members all the time. If we weren't on the bus together or site seeing together, we were in the hotel together 5 to a living space (sometimes all one big room, sometimes 2 bedrooms there was enough physical space every where we went but not a lot of 'space' space). 
• We were on a tight itinerary that allowed us to see a lot but it did not allow for a lot of down time, free time, or sleep. 
• Really look into what the tour's motivations and objectives are in bringing you back to Korea. Ours had a TV crew attached to it that was not mentioned to the full extent prior to the trip. It wasn't a big deal to me, I wasn't filmed, but it was an issue for other group members. 

What I would do differently if I could do it all again: 

• Learn more of the language prior to going on the trip. (Not necessary, I got around fine, but to quell a lot of my own insecurities, I wish I taught myself more before the trip. 
• I would have booked 4-5 days after the tour to myself in a hostel and traveled around to see things that weren't a part of the tour. 

I can't say what it's like going back with friends or in another capacity but these are some pros and cons to a tour. It's not for everyone.

In the end, I loved the program. I loved the people. I loved the food. I loved what I saw. I love what I learned. There were times when I was tired and crabby, but there was no point that I regretted my decision. I am truly grateful to the company that took my on the tour. I only know of one person from the group who walked away feeling let down by the experience but that was a result of a series of small issues that led to a big issue and a lack of communication and understanding.

Even though there were points of frustration along the way, I had a positive experience going with a group for the first time.