The Journey: A Personal Search
by Kendra Belvins-Barton
Originally Published in TransCultured Magaine Winter 2000-1

I wasn't able to find any birth family while in Korea. People ask me if I'm disappointed, and honestly feel if they had spent countless hours and dollars into a search only to com up with no proof that you existed past the made up date the adoption agency placed on your record? Of course I'm disappointed. I'm also frustrated at Korea's lack of proper record keeping, and angry at their cavalier acceptance of giving up their unwanted children as if we were just another export from their country. I'm downright pissed at the social attitudes that prevail and keep Korea from making the changes to eliminate the need for orphanages and international adoptions. I'm relieved that I didn't have to deal with the shock of finding someone. I'm scared that someday I will. I'm sad that I wasn't able to experience growing up in a family that looked like me. I'm happy that I finally experienced the culture and food of my people. I am filled with a sense of pride at being able to walk down the street in downtown Seoul and look like I belong there. For the first time ever I was able to see myself reflected in the eyes of the people I passed by.

Right now I am trying to process things. Instead of finding answers I now have more questions. How do I incorporate the new me into the old me? How do I try and transition the newfound sense of pride of being Korean with my pride at being American? The blurring lines make me uneasy. Like the bibimbop served on the flight to Seoul a few weeks ago, my life had always been compartmentalized into separate sections. There was the orphan, the daughter, the wife, and the mother; the Korean, the American, the assimilator, the rebel. But you can't enjoy the dish by eating it in its separate piles. To truly experience it you need to add some rice and some heat and stir.