I didn’t see myself as different, but others did. My twin and I were adopted from Korea as infants to a mostly white town.
Adoption shaped my identity early on, especially in a community where most non-white kids were adoptees.
My family always made me feel loved.
Each December, we marked our arrival with family celebrations.
As I learned about my Korean heritage, my differences became more apparent.
Family is about love, not genetics.
By middle school, I was more aware of looking different.
My Korean name connected me to my heritage but sometimes felt like a burden.
At times, I wished for a simpler name.
Dutch family traditions highlighted my Asian identity even more.
Comments about my background made me reflect on my identity.
In college, I appeared white but always felt like an outsider.
I wanted to fit in, yet my story was always with me.
Neither DNA tests nor visits to Korea connected me with my birth family.
I hope my birth family knows we are well.
Adoption and racial identity continue to shape my journey.
Writing helps me accept every part of my story.
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