Bring Overseas Adoptees Home
By Choe Chong-dae
Encountering Korean adoptees in the streets of European countries has become a common, albeit disturbing, experience. Of the many Korean adoptees that I have encountered in my travels ― and there are quite a few ― one remains with me, haunting my soul.
During my first visit to a Nordic country in the early 1980s, I came across a little boy who was walking hand in hand with his adoptive father. As we passed, the boy looked back longingly over his shoulder and gazed at me. As he disappeared from sight, I surmised that he must have been adopted quite recently.
Among the Korean films and dramas I had seen featuring an oversea adoptee, one stands out in my mind ― a 1991 movie entitled ``Susan Brink's Arirang.'' The movie, which depicts the life of a traumatized Korean orphan adopted by a Swedish family, struck me as portraying the dark underbelly of Korea's march to modernity. The movie not only induced feelings of shame and guilt in many Koreans for sending children to countries and situations far from home, but motivated the Korean media to begin reporting on issues relating to international adoption.
Most Korean adoptees grew up unaware that other children like themselves existed, and they had no particular interest in Korea until they visited their birth home, and the land of their ancestors. Returning to Korea as adults and as foreigners, they discovered to their dismay that they were not welcome in their mother country, as they were living daily reminders of the dark side of a nation which ranks among the world's leading ``exporters'' of babies for adoption. The adoptees were even more surprised by the fact that such an economically developed and democratic country as South Korea still continues the practice of international adoption.
The initial reason for the high percentage of Korean adoptees has to do with the tragic modern history of Korea, which survived colonial rule, the mutilation of the land, the Korean War and postwar rehabilitation. It was during this period of economic and social hardship that many children were orphaned, due primarily to the loss of their parents.
However, five decades have elapsed since these difficult and tumultuous times. Korea is no longer a destitute postwar country struggling to survive. Nor is it a country with a sizeable population of war orphans. Yet modern Korea, on the contrary, and in spite of its remarkable economic prosperity, continues to permit orphans to be legally adopted by foreign families, creating severe psychological wounds in the adoptees. This is our national shame.
If we are so concerned about the welfare of overseas adopted Koreans and the low level of Korea's birthrate, we should refrain from sending our babies to Western countries as they could suffer from discrimination, racism, incurable psychological trauma and a lifelong crisis of identity. Even though, on their part, many adoptive parents love their Korean children as their own, the adoptees grow up in a culture that is very different to their birth culture, and invariably develop a mentality that is foreign to Korea.
When Korean adoptees came of age, their yearning for their biological home becomes increasingly intense, moving them eventually to find something that their hearts are forever seeking. They turn their eyes to their native country, and set out to locate something that, for the first time in their lives, will make them feel whole.
The word ``mother" contains a mixture of spiritual longing and warm nurturing images, which compel humans to seek the roots of their existence. Therefore, it is inevitable that overseas Korean adoptees will have a deep desire to learn as much as they can about their cultural heritage. It is for this reason that they return to their birthplace, not only to find their natal home, but to discover their own identity and their place in the world.
However, what returning Korean adult adoptees invariably face is discrimination and rejection by the very people they turn to for assistance. Although on the surface they may appear to fit into Korean society, they are, in actuality, not accepted by this society because of the wide cultural gap that exists between the mother country and the foster country. Thus, sharing their experiences in Korea with Korean families with members from diverse cultural backgrounds is vitally important, as such families carry within them a wisdom and an understanding of what it is like to live inside and outside Korea, and can assist Korean adoptees to establish authentic ways of learning from the past and living harmoniously in present day Korea.
Korean society, therefore, must make a greater effort to strengthen policy and practice in favor of adult adoptees so that we, as a nation, can encourage overseas Korean adoptees to return to their mother country to expand their understanding of it, and love for it.
It is my sincere hope that many prominent adult adoptees will return to their homeland in much the same way as an adult salmon returns to its home during the spawning season, to the area where it was born and grew up. For retracing one's roots and replanting them in home soil with the assistance of a sympathetic foster family is so much more important than the alternative.
Choe Chong-dae is president of Dae-Kwang International Co. and the Korean representative for Compagnie Cotonniere of Paris, France. A longtime director of Korean-Swedish Association, he can be reached at dkic98@chol.com