Am I Korean? – My latest question as a Chinese Adoptee
This month, I went to the library and asked the librarian to guide me to the “spirituality” section because I’m on this “What is God?” kick. I was immediately drawn to a book called “The Holiness of Doubt: A Journey through the Questions of the Torah” by Rabbi Joshua Hoffman. I’m not Jewish and I’ve never read the Torah before, but I liked how the author explained that “more than an opportunity to solicit and receive information, a question is posed to communicate a desire to connect to deeper truths and to discover sacred connections.” In his conclusion of the book, Rabbi Hoffman states that “good questions will always forge stronger bonds than didactic proclamations of certainty… The reward for a good question and even better answer is an encounter with holiness, even with the divine.”
Oooh. I was sold! First, rhetorical devices are fascinating. Second, I’ve been meaning to learn more about the Torah. Third, I thought maybe this book would help me ask better questions. Or, at least understand what I’ve been seeking.
For example, lately I’ve been asking: Am I Korean?
It’s a short question that implies a binary answer: yes or no.
As an adoptee, it doesn’t feel simple at all.
I always assumed I was ethnically Chinese because of the facts:
- I was adopted from an orphanage in China
- My passport says: “born in China”
- You look “Chinese”
- “You are Chinese”.
I never thought I could be anything else, until recently, over the past few years, Koreans from Korea have been mistaking me for being Korean:
- A young man from the Korean military at a hostel in Basque country.
- My two friend’s moms who are both from Korea.
- A Korean-American guy on a dating app who tried to guess my ethnicity (eye roll) and was confident that I was, indeed, Korean. Yes, why don’t you guess and tell ME what I am.
- The other day, I also stumbled upon a Korean Tiktoker and thought to myself: Wow, we look similar.
Are these people biased? I wonder if they could pass this test: https://alllooksame.com/app/quiz.php?tid=1.
Am I making things up in my head?
For many people, it seems like the solution is so simple. You just need to know who your parents are. Have you tried searching for your parents?
When I explain that this information is not so readily accessible for me, they always seem so shocked. Confused. It doesn’t seem to compute. How do you not have ANY information about where you come from?
Next, they blurt out the next question that pops into their brain: Have you tried a DNA test? It can give you a breakdown of your ethnicity (and tell you what you are). Maybe you can even find your parents!
I understand their well-meaning intent, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the ignorance.
You are speaking to an adoptee who has zero information about her biological family, health history, and where she comes from… AND has a deep desire to know more. Of course I’ve taken DNA tests (and uploaded them to domestic and international databases).
In my experience, I originally thought the DNA tests would provide a satisfying answer.
It has and it hasn’t.
As datasets become bigger and more “accurate,” my ethnic composition has evolved. A few years ago, I was ethnically Chinese, Korean, Japanese, and a few other things. Recently, I’ve become more and more Chinese.
I suppose this should be affirming because it seems to confirm the facts. But I find the changing results to be confusing and disorienting… to feel like you can ground yourself in an identity… and then have the ground shift and morph again.
When I trace the shadows of my cheekbones, the lines around my eyes, and the shape of my nose… It feels kind of “Korean.” But it’s all just a feeling. And like my feelings, the answers keep changing.
It’s quite strange to grieve what I don’t know… and then to grieve an identity I thought belonged to me, but perhaps no longer does… with no way to really know for sure.
I recently watched the movie, Joyride, on the plane. The main character of the movie was adopted from China by a white American family. She always thought she was Chinese and felt all the guilt and inadequacy that comes from not being Chinese enough until… plot twist… she learns that her mother was Korean and secretly gave birth to her in China.
I guess it was nice to add some drama to this comedy, but it felt a little too real.
Could this be my story too? Am I Korean?
I’m not sure the answer is super important. I’m more curious about why I’m asking in the first place.
What am I seeking?
In therapy, I’m reminded that I am an adult, so I have a choice. Choice in the questions that I ask and explore. Choice in how I approach this question. Choice in who I am and who I become.
Choice.
I am working on choosing. It is so simple. My only responsibility is to remember: Now, I can choose.