(gentle piano music)
- My name's Karl.
I'm from Central Minnesota.
And I was adopted to Central Minnesota
when I was a five month old baby
and grew up there, and eventually moved to Korea.
And now I'm a teacher.
My family was extremely loving.
And my mom actually, before she decided to adopt,
she ran like a residency program for teen moms.
Yeah, my mom worked really hard,
and was like pretty conscious
of a lot of like potential issues
that adoptees, that I would face.
It was very majority white.
I think my school district at the time
was like 97 or 98% white,
now it's like 95 or 94, or something like that.
I don't think a lot of like Central Minnesotan people
are like particularly disposed against Asian people.
I think it's just like,
you're Asian and that's different.
So, you know, Ching Chong, like that kind of thing.
In middle school it just became like pretty malicious.
And that's where it was like,
I hate this, like I don't wanna be me.
Like, I don't want to have a different face.
I don't wanna have different skin.
I didn't want to like burden my parents.
I didn't want to like
and there were times where I told my mom.
I remember in high school that I told her
about stuff that happened when I was younger.
She like apologized
'cause she was like, I didn't know.
I definitely remember a lot of times
like I'd like wish I just like fit in
or like I wish I wasn't Korean or something like that.
And like, I definitely developed
like some self-hate issues.
Now, like I wouldn't change anything for the world.
Then in college, I went to a pretty liberal state school
and I minored in like anti-depression
social justice work and then majored in social work.
And so, like that seriously was like huge for me
because I, as like a pretty emotional person,
like I felt a lot of things
and I just like, didn't know how to talk about it
or I didn't know who to talk to about it.
Yeah, I had a couple professors that helped me
like articulate and understand some things.
Like when things happen
it's not like some insulated incident,
like something created some kind of dysfunction.
And then as a result this happened for this reason.
You know, these people and these families
that go to the school
like they think that because, you know
they're like individually, they have these prejudices
but also like it's not just like a random person being mean.
And you're the only Asian kid at school.
And that's just why like
people are mean, like that's why like.
And it gave me a lot of different like language
and different ways to like
think about and articulate like why I felt certain ways.
And I just like internally always held
that like I wasn't good enough,
but understanding things like, you know,
this is a shame based culture and in Korea
like when women have babies out
of wedlock and when kids are like illegitimate
and this is like an honor, like honor based.
And if you don't carry the name and the blood,
then like, it's like seen as less valuable
or, you know, all of that stuff like.
Talking about that, like changes my perspective
of like my adoption is not solely just
because like my birth mother didn't want me.
After college is when I really started
like taking my mental health seriously.
I had a couple like pretty bad like anxiety attacks,
anxiety episodes.
And I started going to talk therapy.
It definitely had me confront like,
oh, like abandonment issues and attachment issues.
And so then getting back to like
my relationship with my biological parents, like.
I didn't have any information on my biological family.
And so like a lot of people, like I was dying
for like anything like, tell me like, what'd you look like?
Like, I really like this, did like my mom really like this?
Did my dad really like this?
I remember as like a elementary aged kid
I wanted to be a cartoonist
because like I was creative and my dad had like
just shown me some like doodles of like oil pastels.
My dad was also creative.
And so, I was like, I don't know
like maybe my like birth father
and my birth mother, like, were they creative people?
Like I was dying for like any kind of information
but having like the ambiguity of like,
I don't know what happened.
That just creates so much space to like make up stories.
And for me as a child, having thoughts, like, you know
nobody wanted me or, you know,
what happened there or why, like, why wasn't I good enough?
Those insecurities had like a lot to take hold
of with that ambiguity.
And so I definitely would say that I had some resentment
and honestly for me it was like a lot
of just like really raw like despair and just like longing.
I have to understand too, like there's still people
and like I have to empathize and like, I have to, like
I don't know, like they're still worthy to like be loved
or to just like, again, like live their own lives.
And so, as I got older, like I definitely understood that.
Like, can't take it back.
And also like, I don't have anything to gain
by holding that against, you know, my birth mom.
I know everybody, like everybody just wants to be known.
And, I think that like very much so a pretty like
deep or primal or just like human, like need for love.
My hometown is like 12,000 people.
And then my mom, which she grew up like 45 minutes north
of where I grew up, her town has like 250 people.
And so as much as it was a culture shock
being in a different country, it was also a culture shock
of just like being in a big city.
Communicating with my like biological family.
I like went through the adoption agency
and they contacted my biological mom.
Can't find father.
She had like married a different man who is not
my biological father, has her own fam family.
And yeah, she said, you know, don't contact me again.
And a lot of anxiety and emotion.
And I mean, as you can imagine,
like you like live your life
and then this person comes and is like, I'm your kid.
That was also like a significant of like
kind of coming back to that.
Like, she doesn't want anything to do with me.
Like, that's not like, that's not fair.
Like that sucks.
And like I'm here, and I've come all the way
across the world, and I've changed my life,
and you're not putting out anything.
And that was, it was like February 21st, like 2020.
Like that's when I like got the email
and then I like really battled for like next couple days.
And I was just like,
had to come back to that.
Like, I can't change it, you know.
No matter how hard, like I try, like
I can't change something like that.
For me, I could either
like labor really hard, like emotionally
and like physically and put a lot of energy into it.
But I don't think that there's a lot
of like leeway that I can get from from my birth mom.
So, I met my foster mom.
She had like fostered like 120 babies
or something like that, which is incredible.
I like met her, and I was like,
are you my grandma?
And I'm like, just started crying.
And so that was really cool.
Any part of the story that I feel
like I could like experience or like reclaim
was like really important for me.
As a Korean American in Central Minnesota,
like, I was not like everybody else
because everyone is white
and I am obviously not white
but also like any interaction that I had
with like someone who was a different culture
or someone who like represented their culture in like
like a significant way.
I was like, where is that for me?
Because I'm also not Korean because like
I don't speak the language.
And you know, I went to like an adoptee camp
and so like I've had the food, but I don't know what that,
like, I don't feel like I own
that part of culture for me.
I don't know, I've never really like identified myself,
like I'm a Korean person.
For me, just because like of the spaces
that I had like struggled in and out of.
It was like, I just want to be me.
The qualities that are like intrinsic to me
that like, aren't like cultural or like racial
or like those kind of identifiers,
don't hold as much weight compared to like,
you know, like I value empathy
or like, you know, those kind of things.
A Korean American identity to me
is like really, like pretty intersectional.
Like, it's like me, and the things that I love.
And yes, I pull from like all different relationships.
But like in the end, like I'm the one
who has to determine, like this is who I am.
This is what Koreanness is for me.
This is what it means to be like a transracial adoptee.
This is what it means to be a person of color.
And so, it's like very connected to like so
many different things for me.
The adoptee experience is extremely individual
and there's a lot of like common themes
and like recurring things that happen
like from person to person,
but really like every adoptee you meet from wherever
like their story is so, so individual and personal.
Like, I am also like Korean Americans
or Asian Americans are asked a lot
of things that just kind of like fall into this, like
like muttering of questions of like, you know
where are you really from?
Or what does your culture mean to you?
Or sometimes like, it's more important
than it has to be, I feel like,
because like so many times I'm just like,
I don't know, I'm like just Karl
or like, you know, like, yeah
like that is important, but I also do this or and so.
This is called baa baa yellow sheep.
Baa baa yellow sheep
have you any wool?
In this story, what's the difference between
the sheep and the wolf?
I grip my yellow label.
Like I'm drawing with golden colored pencils.
I'm creating with a foreign utensil
on the surface of my reflection.
The silver sheen mirror is my canvas.
And I'm trying my best
to put nuchi in my eyes
and aegyeo on my skin
to walk like halmuni's walk.
The black in my vision, tell stories of shame
and pain and pride that you can't see,
sometimes that I can't see,
but I feel it.
And I never even asked for it,
but I got stuck with it
and had to adjust and discover
that I'd never asked for any other life,
because this is me.
And that's a sour, twisted fact,
like a lemon full of lime juice,
peculiar and unique, but still wrong.
And that's what it feels like every time I hear
I'm sure she loved you.
My mothers and I, I'm their everything,
yet I am loss upon loss
like baa baa yellow sheep.
The wool is a wash.
They sheared the sheep and dyed me yellow.
They dyed me yellow,
yet I feel everywhere asking baa baa yellow sheep
have you any wool?
It depends on who's asking,
the shepherd or a wolf
because I have none to offer you.
My wool, my skin, my Asian eyed grin,
my food and cuisine or idol clad magazine
fashion and models, music and bottles.
There's an imperative to be Korean
to be something that I'm not.
My friends insist,
I must be living this grand journey to find myself
and to soul search.
A Facebook friend just told me
that I must be growing so much.
And I must feel like a whole Korean.
Like I must have acquired the secret, fully Asian ritual.
I am full Korean, and I have acquired the fully Asian ritual
but I'm chanting something different.
It's a chant that goes baa baa yellow sheep,
have you any wool?
And appropriate response because, yes sir,
yes sir, three bags full.
Baa baa yellow sheep.
It wasn't to begin.
Scrape the language from my tongue
and take a mother from her son.
This sheep stuff comes from within.
I'm selling out for my spot in line for the shearing.
Like I deserve this place in line,
but I'm not like the others.
Ben went to a poor neighborhood.
Emily's mom wished she never went through with the adoption.
Ben ended up in the hospital with slashed wrists.
It's toxic.
What I have is more than gold or trade or weight.
It's a real wealth, like a real wealth of issues.
Like having parents that don't want me,
like asking if I'm even meant to be here.
Not like here, but like here as in existing,
like belonging somewhere,
but never ever knowing where that is
because I've been told so many times to go back
to where I came from.
So I did, and again
I was told to go back to where I came from.
It's like having a map to nowhere.
It's like wanting answers that I don't need,
like any other adult in their twenties,
like being dramatic and feely,
and I just need to take a deep breath.
What I have is more than gold or trade or weight.
And I know it.
And even if I ask myself still
baa baa yellow sheep, have you any wool?
I know that I'm worth it.
My name's Karl and this is my Korean American story.
(gentle piano music)