As a queer Korean American adoptee, a lot of my life has consisted of me trying to figure out who I am, and in the process, realizing that patience and grace in the journey is more important than knowing what boxes to check. I’m grateful for every single person and relationship that has passed through my life because each and every one has impacted who I am today.
I’m a recent transplant to NYC, settled in Brooklyn with my wife (my person) and the cuddliest cat ever. After spending almost all of my life in upstate NY, I’ve finally found a place that feels like home to me. There’s so much life and bustle in the city, and so many different types of people to connect with, including a Korean adoptee community and a queer Asian community, two such groups that I was missing most of my adult life. I don’t think I could ever feel alone here.
My birth mother did a search for me and contacted me through a handwritten letter on Mickey Mouse stationary over 3 years ago. Two summers ago I had the incredible opportunity to travel to South Korea with a group of Korean adoptees for a month long language and culture program. While I was there I re-united with my birth family (my mother, 3 older sisters, and 1 younger brother). My birth mother has my hands—the thin curves of skin, the rounded nail beds, the shape of our slightly thick knuckles. My brother and I look like we could be twins, sharing dark leathered skin and the same toothy smile. My oldest sister and I share an unspoken connection and genuine bond. I’m incredibly blessed to have 3 families in my life; my stable adoptive family, my modest and kind birth family, and my crazy lovable in-laws.
I devour memoirs on identity and novels about relationships in a weekend. I cook Korean food and bake with chocolate to self-soothe and I could spend an entire day wandering a shopping mall. I write creatively, which has encouraged me to be more introspective about why I search for and seek love, approval, and self-worth from others and how I can begin to find those things within myself. I’m learning the NYC subway system one day at a time. I dream of biracial babies, a puppy named Bulgogi, and an open door home filled with a crushing sense of unconditional love.
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