Mistakes are one of the most common occurrences of human nature, and I felt I was the living embodiment of an unwanted one. I was born a traveler. Four months into my life, I had embarked on a journey that consisted of over 6,300 miles to an unfamiliar home after being abandoned by my birth parents at infancy. Going against convention, I was not raised in a culture of blood; the links which connect me to others are not based in biology, but in relationship.
Despite the fact that living as an interracial adoptee is all I have ever known, I have spent an overwhelming amount of time continuously speculating about my biological family in Seoul, what my life would have been had I been raised there, where I would be now had I been adopted by a different family. Although I have happiness and fortune as I realize it was a possibility I might cease to exist, my good standings do not cancel out my curiosity and disconnect to the world. I am a bridge lacking in
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I have gone through life associated with ownership and being talked of as if I am property. My childhood years of education have consisted of alternative assignments to those in regards to family history or the heredity unit of science classes. Within the faces of young children who stand with their adoptive families, I see a piece of myself and hope they will not struggle to endure the insensitivity to the culture of adoption and that their sense of identity will only be strengthened. I lacked an understanding of what would come of being a trans-racial adoptee and grew blind to ignorance at a young age, never gaining insight on the subject at hand. Although the culture of adoption has created uncomfortable and unfamiliar years, it also led me to challenge convention, embrace individuality, and find unconditional love from an early