ABSTRACT

On a hot day in July 1996, I stood outside of a Korean restaurant in New York City’s Korea town, anxiously waiting for people to arrive for the launch of an organization that a few other Korean adoptees and non-adopted Korean-Americans and I had begun planning six months earlier. I was 24-years-old and had grown up with only sporadic contact with other people who had, like me, been adopted from South Korea. My anxiety stemmed both from a concern that no one would show up, but also the realization that there were no visual markers that distinguished a Korean who had been adopted from those who had not. Despite my concerns, we found each other Korean faces with last names like Savasta, Glick, and Nelsonand for the first time approximately 40 Korean-born adult adoptees, adoptive parents, and supporters gathered in the heart of New York City.