What if I am not missing a person, place, or thing? Rather, I am denied the words that are shaping my life. The absence of these words is no less heartbreaking than the loss of my first family, culture, and language. However, these words can interrupt, resist, and heal the undeniable sickness of adoption trauma. Therefore, in an effort to stop missing that which cannot be replaced, I am calling out ADOPTEEPHOBIA.

ADOPTEEPHOBIA [uh-dop-tee-foh-bee-uh] (n.) The irrational fear and hatred of adoptees.

Origin: White supremacy, patriarchy, class subordination, disability injustice, Christian hegemony.

ADOPTEEPHOBIA [uh-dop-tee-foh-bee-uh] (n.) The restrictive, pervasive, and deadly assumptions that are upholding a discriminatory system targeting adoptees.

Related forms: adopteephobic

Forgive or not forgive? – The wrong question!

The agenda of ‘forgiveness’ didn’t appear in Fang Lee’s adoption experience until she was 27 years old. Listen to this second part of her story. “The scenario isn’t that I am contemplating should I or should I not forgive my birth parents who sent me away for the sake of their vested interest in having a boy to carry on their family blood.”

See also this NBC video in which the Korean adoptee and rapper Dan Matthews gets back to Korea a few years after he met his biological family, and brings the two mothers together for the first time…

Back to Fang Lee: “To talk about this topic, I need to expose a painful experience. It is the single most significant event that occurred in my entire adoption history. That event marked the fallout between me and the biological siblings, forever. After that, one more secret was buried within the biological family (they have other skeletons in the cupboard, so to speak), one that was never revealed to my birth parents until 13 years later.

It started with me changing the family name back to the biological family’s on the suggestion of my birth mother. As soon as I did that, the three biological elder sisters decided to get together and asked me to sign an agreement that I would not inherit the family wealth in the event of my birth parents’ death. But instead of asking me to sign the agreement directly, they attacked and shamed me to justify their behaviors.

Covcel Review – Choosing GED Prep

Many adoptees face problems in their high school years. Puberty is often the time they start asking questions about their origins and consequently, many of them, later on, need to get their GEDs. I was recently asked for a recommendation for a GED course so I went on a shopping spree. I learned about several GED programs but so far, the best is Covcel GED prep. It’s effective, it’s designed with simplicity, it’s for adults (not some stupid cartoon). Here are the details.

Let’s start with general information about the GED test. When passing the GED test (actually four independent tests), you receive a credential that takes the place of a high school diploma. It is the equivalent of earning your high school diploma.

While you cannot take the GED online, you may very well take an online course to pass the GED. Taking a good GED preparation course can help you pass the test in one try. This will save you a tremendous amount of time, money, and stress.

Additionally, taking an online GED prep course means you can study during your free time instead of taking time off from work while commuting or trying to retain information when you’re tired. You can learn and study when it suits you best.

I checked 5 different courses and without any doubt, Covcel is the best. The price is friendly $27 for three months or $46 for months.

The Queer Korean American Adoptee

In the United States, we live in a society that often lacks love and acceptance. From the day we’re born, we’re told how we should live our lives. We’re surrounded by everyday messages through media, like advertisements, television shows, and literature, that explain to us how we should raise our children, how we should look, and how we should act in certain situations. Interesting is also this UW Tacoma video in which JaeRan Kim talks about adoptees as parents and Korean American adoptees are talking about Race, Ethnicity, and Adoption.

Our culture pressures us to embody a certain “norm,” and consequently, we frequently hold ourselves—whether consciously or not—to impossible standards. To this end, when we strive to reach these standards, we automatically set ourselves up for failure. It might be especially difficult for people who hold marginalized identities, or people who are often socially excluded for not personifying cultural norms, to exist and survive under these conditions.

Let’s listen to Erica Gehringer’s story. “When I was growing up, I tried my very best to assimilate to the norm. At four months old, I was transracially adopted by two white parents and an older adopted Korean brother into a 96% white, suburban, Midwestern town.”

The Path to Heal the Broken Heart

Adoption has a life-long impact on the child, positively or negatively. I have heard some adoptees who have loving adoptive parents supporting their search for birth parents and respecting their cultural origins. Others, like me, struggle to overcome the sense of incompleteness and different feelings and beliefs about who we are. But there is the path to heal the broken heart.

We don’t walk around with a broken arm or leg so we don’t appear to be disabled in some way. Likewise, no one can see the broken heart of a baby that was given up for adoption.

Does anybody think a baby would voluntarily leave their mother? “Well, how would the baby know anything?” I heard adults say to themselves as if they needed to be convinced that what they did was not going to impose the slightest thing on another human being.

What a baby can sense and know is already widely discussed. In this link mentioned, you will see perspectives from the birth mothers, adoptive parents, and adoptees. It is like all parties involved in the adoption come to this platform to vomit their pain.

The Other Side of Things

Today, I would like you to read Fang Lee’s story where she’s taking a look at the other side of things. “A few days ago, as I stepped into an air-conditioned Target to purchase some toothpaste, I was abruptly reminded that summer was coming to a close and fall was rolling around the corner. I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach, and I caught myself gasping for air. What is always synonymous with the beginning of fall? School, of course!

At my local Target store, I noticed the dollar shelves being lined with back-to-school junk and all of the bathing suits had red labels screaming, Buy me! Summer is ending!” As my summer vacation period comes to a close, all of my friends that will now go to college start to post on Facebook about how wonderful (or not) their summer has been and just how excited they are about school starting up again or how wonderful they think life on a college campus is going to be.

Most of my friends completed their regular high school education but I managed to meet all of California’s GED requirements and earned my GED diploma fast and with flying colors! I didn’t need to take any college admission tests like the SAT as my GED scores were top-notch. I’m “College-Ready”, they say!

My inbox is bombarded with messages about how ecstatic everyone is to see me back not at our old school bur now in college and I find myself drowning in invitations to join new projects for fall 2019. The considerate ones end their emails with lines such as “I hope your summer was wonderful.” At least they are acknowledging something that once was. As much as I want to partake in all this excitement about the beginning of a new school year, I struggle to do so. My studies come first and I don’t know yet how adoptees will be adopted in college.

Homophobia and Heterosexism to Adoptees

When Nancy Newton Verrier, an adoptive parent, suggests that adoptee lesbian relationships are motivated by the traumatic loss of their mothers in her discussion on “The Incest Taboo,” she does this within the context of homophobia and heterosexism to adoptees – a context where gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and queer people are marginalized as sick, wrong, perverted, and dangerous. LGBTQ adoptees may experience homophobia as threats to their physical safety, in addition to employment, housing, and healthcare discrimination due to sexual orientation and perceived gender identity.

Homophobia is a dangerous power dynamic of heterosexism – the values, beliefs, and behaviors that position heterosexuality as the norm, and ensure the subordination of married and unmarried women, lesbian, gay, bisexual, queer, and transgender people whose gender assignment at birth or adoption is not the same as their gender identity. Within homophobia and heterosexism, the biological parent and child relationship is the only socially acceptable example of same-gender love that is not shameful if elevated above married partnership.

My Reflection on Mother’s Day

Until the age of 29, I had never met anybody who looked like me. That is, until I met my birth mother. This is the memory I’d take with me to Mars, if I ever go there. This post is about my reflection on Mother’s Day.

In June, I attended the Allied Media Conference in Detroit for the first time. Described as a “collaborative laboratory of media-based organizing strategies for transforming our world,” it is an annual gathering of healers and rabble-rousers of all kinds that pays particular attention to centering the stories, experiences, and leadership of women, people with disabilities, queer and trans* folks, people of color, lower-income people, immigrants, and other historically marginalized and silenced communities.

To set the stage at one workshop, the facilitators told us that due to the post-industrial destruction of Earth, we would be evacuating to Mars. The only catch was that we would each lose all of our memories but would be able to listen to the three-minute story of just one, which we would be learning to craft, tell, and record as part of our session together.

For people who know me, it comes as no surprise that Mother’s Day is an emotionally challenging holiday for me. As a daughter, I carry with me the complex sadness of being estranged from my parents for reasons that are partially due to identity and conflict and partially due to my own survival and self-preservation.

A Grateful Adoptee

The last love letter he wrote to me was a thank you card. In every possible action, our love and gratitude were inextricable, despite the societal sicknesses that divided us by race, gender, and landscape. Ross, who I described as my anti-racist white boyfriend, did his best to love me, a grateful adoptee, for the three years in which I purchased three one-way tickets to Korea.

Each time, he drove me to the Minneapolis-Saint Paul airport, carried my baggage, and kissed me farewell on my journey into adoptee activism. One year ago, we finally tired of the ritual, and parted ways in love and acceptance of our separate, emerging paths. On the other side of that departure, I arrived at KoRoot–a small, but mighty guest house and NGO in Seoul, South Korea.

Once again, I passed through the creaking front gate into the garden, continued forward up the concrete steps, and reached the guest house entrance where I paused to remove my shoes. Little did I know, I was beginning my daily return to KoRoot, a labor of love and gratitude to serve the 200,000 overseas Korean adoptees to which I belong, on behalf of the organization that has welcomed me in both times of greatness and vulnerability.


Let’s listen to this Laura Klunder story. When a Timebender gets cancer, you may stop breathing. Your chest will tighten as her cells multiply. Your body will weaken as hers deteriorates. This is her magic, too. She is here and gone without warning. She ages you too quickly and bends you backward to meet in her youth. In the first seconds of reunion, she is truly extraordinary. While her strength may seem unprecedented in search, it is the threat of passing that reveals her reach. Wherever you run, her determination in both birth and death will chase you. My birth mother is a Timebender. When I learned that she has cancer, I felt betrayed by time.

I am one of two hundred thousand exiled Spacebenders, born into a world at war against Timebenders. In solidarity with each of us who has been relegated to the margins of society, I have learned to deconstruct and reshape space to hold intersecting, divergent, and shifting locations of home and family. In childhood, I sensed my magic due to the uncanny ability to adapt to the smallest places.

Nevertheless, I was isolated by violence and felt abandoned. I was disgusted by my outstanding qualities and wished to run away rather than just fit into the narrow minds that restricted me. By adolescence, I wearied of the game of hide and shrink and desired spaces that expanded with my growth. And so, I set forth on an adventure into the unknown territories of self and cultural landscape, while holding the loved ones that had shaped me thus far. On this quest, I encountered a Timebender, who happened to be my birth mother.