Frank Li has a problem. He wants to date a girl his parents would never approve of. She’s white and they’re Korean. As luck would have it, his friend, Joy, has a similar problem. The solution? Frank and Joy will pretend to date each other so they can continue seeing their respective partners behind their parents’ backs. I was not expecting this YA romantic (and comedic) novel to touch me so much. While I am not Korean, I am Asian-American. David Yoon masterfully intertwines necessary conversations about race and not being “enough” into a story about high schoolers just trying to get accepted into their top colleges. Be aware that there are some conversations that could be triggering to POC and Asian-Americans; such as: dialogues that are accurate representations of the ignorance and hate shown toward POC and Asian-Americans. It was startling to read offensive slang that has been directed at me in a YA fiction, but I believe it was entirely necessary for the dialogue to be there too. Aside from providing an absolutely accurate portrayal of the internal structures of being POC and American, Yoon delivers even more thought-provoking plot lines that center around discovering oneself while remaining loyal to one’s family. His novel is nuanced and incredibly emotional. The overall story is funny and heartwarming. I fell in love with the characters and their complexities. I felt connected to all of them, and actually slowed my reading pace so I could savor the story for longer. "Frankly in Love" made me laugh and cry. It may be classified as YA fiction, but I truly believe this is something everyone should read.

Easter Silly Rabbit hops about Leaving eggs that children scout Pretty colors that decorate Making cookies on a date Easter time is coming round As Peter Cottontail comes to town Stop the hate For us, this is nothing new We’re sick and tired, angry too Why must we live in fear No matter if we’re far or near Not a joke, nor a rat We are not your doormat Why can’t you leave us be Our elders are our family Be prepared because we will fight For equality and for our rights. Lauren is a regular contributor for The Universal Asian. To learn more about her, check out her Contributor’s Page here.

A Spring Thing Why does the wind blow 'round Gentle quiet or roaring sound What happened to the warm breeze Where are the leaves on the trees Soon they will be here It will all be clear The warm spring will appear Baby animals will run about Cute as a button without a doubt I love the warm as I love Spring A sunnier day is everything The Carousel Round and round we go Going high and swinging low Cotton candy in my hand In the back, a merry band Grab the ring made of brass Get it quick and get it fast Funny horses spinning away Let’s go to the fair today Lauren is a regular contributor for The Universal Asian. To learn more about her, check out her Contributor’s Page here.

I was placed on the steps of the Baby Green Meadow Home on May 26, 1957. It was estimated that I was less than about two months old. I was named Gwi-ae, but it was translated to sound alike “Ki-Ai Lim,” which is on all my official documents. I started researching the background on my adoption around 1996. I felt so guilty because I felt like I was betraying my family that adopted me. However, with both parents passed by the time I was 35, I just had to do something for me. My mama and I had talked about this very day, where one day I would want to find out who my birth parents are if I could only find them. “What would I say and do and what were all the scenarios?” For example, “What would I say? Why did you adopt me out? Did any other family members know about me?” Eventually, I went to Korea and went to where my orphanage once stood, as it is no longer there. The trip was so overwhelming. To know that is where my life was for almost six years of my life; yet, I could not remember a thing! I wish I could! I wish I could of kept my native language; though my parents had tried hard to find a Korean person who knew Korean. When I was in Korea at the daycare facility, I asked my translator if he could ask the lady, “Are there any pictures of the orphanage?” She said, “Yes.” I then asked, “May I take pictures with my phone of the photos in the album?” She said, “Yes,” and so I clicked away! When I took a shot of the photos of the dedication of the orphanage, and saw that they were dated with 1957 and the month, it suddenly hit me that I had been there not too long after that. If it wasn’t for the lady and translator, I would have burst into tears. However, I held it together, which was so hard to do. I have learned and accepted that life will be what it will be. We can’t make things happen when we don’t have the resources. Those of us who belong the generation of first wave Korean adoptees, we had disadvantage of what our younger generations have today. The majority of the younger waves of adoptees have the internet at their disposal to assist them in finding and searching for their birth parents. We didn’t have computers, which only came around, in the early nineties. For much of our lives we didn’t have support systems, such as the Korean adoptee (KAD) groups on FB, that we do now. (I am grateful that I have been able to bear witness to how accessible to both information and community has evolved over time for my fellow Korean adoptees.) The stories below, which have shared with me by my mother, brother, and other family members, are about my life after I came to America. Missionaries from my adoptive family’s church were instrumental in connecting my parents with my orphanage in Korea. They also provided some helpful hints so that my adoptive family would be able to better prepare in helping me to adjust to my new life in the States. For example, they said that I would not be familiar with Western things like the type of bed, the style of food, and non-Korean people. They also explained that just the general environment would be a shock for me. Due to the cultural shock, the missionaries predicted that I would either remember my past or just shut it out of my mind. The psychologist whom my parents spoke with said that if the past were memorable then I would remember, but if not, that as a child I would push it back into my subconscious and make the decision to not remember. My subconscious told me my memories were not worth remembering. I was born on April 1, 1957. I was left on the doorstep of the Green Meadow Baby Home Orphanage (I entered the facility on May 26, 1957). I was almost six years when I arrived in the United States on March 17, 1963. The orphanage people sent a picture of me to adoptive family. They asked them if I would be the one, and if would they like to adopt me. My mama had to support me with clothing, and had to give the orphanage monthly payments for the next two years. During these two years of supporting me, my mama would write to the orphanage and ask about her little girl, what was I doing, and so forth. The orphanage kept in contact with my parents about me and would always thank them for the money and the clothes. The Republic of Korea’s Child Placement Service would correspond and write back to my parents on very delicate and fine rice paper! Once all of the paperwork was completed, the money was sent for the airline ticket. The adoption agency sent an escort with each child that was on the flight to Seattle, WA. I came with a blue bag with some clothing. I traveled from Korea to New York, and onto Seattle, which is where my life started. Mama told me that she was in tears when she saw me in person for the first time. She said that she was so scared. She was hoping nothing bad would happen, and she hoped that I got there safely. Mama came by herself. I guess the adoption agency had suggested that one person from each family member come to greet their new child, as they thought it would be too overwhelming if everyone came. I just wished someone had taken photos of that moment. When I arrived in Seattle, I was very sick. The escort lady said I had been sick the whole trip. I was very malnourished. I had rickets and a vitamin D deficiency. Before any foreign children or babies leave their country to enter into the United States, it is required that the child has a full examination and has all of their required shots. This is how they found out I had rickets. My health got better as time went on. I was learning to like some of the American food. Since, to my parents' knowledge, my diet consisted mainly of rice, having a variety of food was overwhelming. It was a lot to take in at the age of almost 6 years old. How well did I receive the rest of the family? I guess I liked my dad and my older brother, Jim, who was 19 at time. Byron was 10 years old. He gave me a present, a full-sized doll, which was the same height as me. I loved the doll but I did not receive him as well as he had hoped. I was afraid to sleep in a regular bed. Mama gave up the comfort of her bed for the floor for about a month. I was still sick and they had to give me some good ol’ Pepto-Bismol (Yuck!). I remember I would let it drizzle out from the corner of my mouth. I would hear my mama say, “Don’t let it drizzle out, you need it so you can get well.” Mr. Sheets, a member of our Pentecostal church, gave my family a Korean dictionary. They thought they would try to say some words from the dictionary, but I just laughed at them. I’m sure they weren’t saying things correctly. My brother Byron didn’t know what to think when I didn’t like him. However, I did like the doll he gave me. My mama told that I made some jesters [sic] about him. I would have bad dreams that boys at the orphanage around Byron’s age were hurting me. My parents finally figured out that I was mistreated by boys around Byron’s age. They had pointed guns at me and put lit cigarette out on my back, which also explained why I hated guns and cigarettes. I also hated war movies. I guess I would hide my face and not watch any type of violent movies. Eating was a challenge for my family. They tried everything, but they had to be careful about how much they gave me. They would give me rice, which I hated. The orphanage fed us rice every day and that was our main diet. They assumed that I liked it because that was what I got in the orphanage. However, I must have done something to let them know that I hated it! Byron said that I did not eat rice for about four years, and that it took me a long time to eat it again. It’s funny that when I look back, I recall how I hated eating rice. It is weird that I only remember that. I had some habits that I had a hard time breaking. I actually still do them to this day. For example, I would hide non-perishable snack foods in my dresser drawers. I never thought about why I did it, but now I understand why. Food was important to me when I was little. My family said that when I got any kind of food, especially non-perishable food, like crackers, I would take them and hid them and save them for weeks! Mama caught me one day, and when she caught onto what I was I was doing she saved 15 shoe boxes (from the dozens of pairs shoes she would buy me). She lined them up along kitchen floor, and I would put my food in them. One day, I caught her going into the boxes (she was putting in fresh bread, crackers, canned food and cookies); I thought she was going to take my food supply away from me. Obviously, this was a result of my having been on food rations at the orphanage. I did finally start liking American food, though I was never sure of the food on the first try. For example, I tried ice cream, and every time I tried it, I liked it more and more until it became one of my favorite foods when I was little. I turned six two weeks after I first arrived in the States, and mama made me my first birthday cake. I didn’t know what to do with it! So, they had to show me what I was supposed to do. I got to blow out my first candle. It was like being a baby with experiencing so many firsts! My family said that one day I started to sing two songs. Byron said he still remembers me singing them, which surprised me, as I couldn’t believe he would remember them (he thinks one song was addressed to the soldiers). The other song seemed to be for an audience of kids and grown-ups. Song 1: (These are spelled phonetically as I don’t know the correct spelling) Hunga, u-jay-me-jay, mi-jay, com-i, me-she-shy-daaa Song 2*: Key-fallda, keya wanda, key-fallda (Repeat.) *I would pantomime as I sang this song for my family, and they said I must have performed it at the orphanage. My mama would say to me, “It’s so funny how we think alike and how we do things so much alike.” She sometimes said to me, “I see you and I look past you being Korean, I don’t even think you’re Korean sometimes. I don’t see it unless someone brings it up or points it out to me. I get mad at them when they do.” These stories are dedicated to my loving family who raised me with unconditional love. They will always be in my heart and their spirits will live on in me.

What Does It Mean To Be a Man? Ohh boy, that’s the question, isn’t it? I even hesitate asking it, because maybe part of being a man is not questioning or overanalyzing your manhood, right? You just be tough; it’s not that hard. Well, to be honest, it was for me. There’s increasing evidence showing that the root of many of our social issues today are because men (and some women) haven’t been taught how to access our emotional intelligence. (Especially me!) I didn’t know it was called “emotional intelligence” at the time, but reflecting back, I was incredibly unintelligent when it came to dealing with emotions. I had no self-awareness, self-love, empathy, or social skills. I suffered from anger, annoyance, frustration, rejection, loneliness, embarrassment, and insecurity—all of which I was not allowed to express. Others said it was not “manly”—that I was being “too sensitive.” In the past, I had no avenues to express what I was feeling, bottling up, getting all tangled with each other, and now it’s extremely difficult to sort it all out. Emotions and Intelligence Don’t Go Together Every man around me was always tough and never cried. I’ve been taught that intelligent people don’t let their emotions get in the way of what is “real” or what’s in front of them. Intelligent people don’t show weakness and vulnerability. Intelligent people ignore the negative emotions, because having them means you’re unstable. This was something that was both purposefully and subconsciously taught to me. I know the men around me were well-intentioned, but they were one of the driving forces for stunting my emotions. Maybe it was a cultural thing, or a generational thing, but I saw the same thing happening with my friends, their dads, and granddads, and in mainstream media. I Wanted To Be One of the Boys I knew I was a boy, I identified as a boy, and I wanted to be one of the boys. So I kept my feelings to myself, because that’s what all the other boys were doing. But for some reason, I was still unable to connect with anyone. I went to predominantly white schools, so I don’t think anyone was used to seeing an Asian kid. The rare ones they did see were on TV and they were either quiet, unromantic martial artists, or effeminate, awkward math nerds. I was already playing the game with extra weights on my ankles. My Experience with Masculinity “I was an emotive boy confused in a culture where I was told not to feel.” Ooh man, even sitting by myself and writing this out is weird to me. I never talked about this as a kid. Growing up, I would always lock up around anyone who showed too much emotion–positive or negative. Even saying the word “feelings” still makes me feel weird or exposed. And any time I was able to express my own emotions, it would seemingly be at the wrong times. Others Didn’t Know how to Communicate with Me I laugh or smile when in serious or uncomfortable situations, which comes off as insensitive or awkward. I cry when there’s even just a tiny bit of sentiment, which comes off as being a “crybaby.” My brother even recently said that when we were kids he would get confused every time I expressed a strangely-timed emotion. It was all because I was (and am) very emotive, but didn’t really see that in other boys who were displaying tough, nonchalant, neutral expressions. Lack of Emotional Intelligence, Lack of Confidence Seeing all of that around me and on screen influenced how I thought everyone else was perceiving Asian men. And because of that, I struggled with my masculinity. I would overthink what others judged about me, which led me to doubt myself, to feel low worth, unattractive, and not “cool.” I crushed on so many girls—none of whom would give me the time of day. And when someone did like me, I was either oblivious, emotionally out-of-tune, or didn’t believe that they were genuinely interested. I was shy and awkward, especially around girls and anyone I deemed to be one of the “cool kids,” which was basically everyone. I thought they were all better than me in every way. I let it get in my head that women probably think Asian men are terrible romantic partners because it’s what everyone sees in the media. That lower self-talk consumed my whole being. I would never cold approach anyone if there was no natural reason to. This wasn’t because I thought I would be awkward, or weird, or not know what to say, but because I projected onto them that I was never good enough. I thought they would never find me attractive because I’m Asian (even to other Asian girls!). The Consequences of (Not) Talking About Emotions It’s Unfamiliar to Most Men Being emotional is probably one of the last things you would associate with “being a man.” The older Asian men around me didn’t go deep with their emotions, with me or anyone else. You’d have to get them wasted before you’d see any signs of vulnerability. I understand that, especially with family, you want to show strength and solidarity—to show no weakness—so that everyone can take solace in and trust you. However, what this taught me was that I was a lesser man if I did show any sign of vulnerability. I see now that things are starting to change, men. are. talking. about. it. It’s been amazing to witness, AND we still have a long way to go. Talking About “Soft Stuff” with Parents Talking about the “softer stuff,” like what we were feeling, and our emotional and mental health, never happened. My dad would sit us down, quite often actually, and tell his life stories, and, don’t get me wrong, there was definitely a lot of emotion in there, but I felt like I couldn’t find a way to connect to his heart. Nor did I feel like he wanted to connect with mine. Sure, maybe I was too young to understand. Or maybe it was too selfish of me to expect anyone to know what I was feeling. But back then, I would have never even thought about expressing anything that could make me look “bad.” I didn’t have the trust to expose myself without judgment. I love both my parents to death and what they have done for my brothers and me, especially for all that they’ve sacrificed to come to America to give us a good life. I am so deeply, enormously, and profoundly grateful for them. Being a parent is definitely the most difficult job, and because of that, I do feel so “extra” or “privileged” to write about something as “silly” as our feelings. I should be studying, working, planning, supporting my family—none of this expressing myself! Saying I love you? Oh, no way, not gonna happen—too weird. Again, this is not me complaining or holding a grudge against anyone. Everyone did the best they knew how to and my parents have instilled so many other great values in my brothers and me. It’s kinda why we’re all, like, suuuuuper cool and like, really fun to be around… However, I realized that I’d been missing out on my own growth from not being able to talk through these deep feelings with people. Feelings such as, what it feels like to trust, to have human connection, a better sense of self, confidence, clarity with expression and communication, and meaningful relationships. Hiding my emotions was isolating. What’s Next? This piece was originally written in 2018 and since then, I’ve created a safe space in partnership with the Badass Asian Dudes, for self-identifying Asian men to practice their emotional communication and authentic confidence. Save the date for the free men’s circle meetup every first Thursday of every month. About Victor Ung After burning out from the tech industry and going through a quarter-life “remodel” of my career and relationships, I realized how much I was lacking one thing in my life: emotional intelligence (aka EQ). As an Asian American, I absorbed the myth of the “model minority” and what it meant to be a man, which was to never show emotions or vulnerability. This limited my ability to be confident, assertive, creative, and communicative. After finally allowing myself to receive help from others for my personal development and seeing so much more fulfillment in my life, it became my calling to help others find their own version of it. Now I specialize in using EQ to help people uplevel themselves as human beings and adapt to the fast-paced advancement of technology. I founded the Emotion DOJO, a gym membership for the heart and soul of growth-minded Asian men to exercise creativity, stress management, emotional resiliency and communication, decision-making, and risk-taking. In my journey, I’ve shared my story on a stage in front 1000+ people, my written work is published on The Good Men Project, ThriveGlobal, P.S. I Love You, Publishous, and more. I’ve released 75+ episodes of my podcast, "Human Up," and co-host the "Badass Asian Dudes" podcast in a Facebook group of over 1,300 members. I shared my self-love journey with cannabis at Crushing the Myth and have been featured on Asian Americans for Cannabis Education and Asian Mental Health Collective. As an Asian American man, I’m fully aware of the lack of representation in the Western world, in media, in leadership, and especially in the wellness industry, and I aim to fill that gap by breaking the stigma that emotions need to be kept behind closed doors.

Quarantine I’m sick of being a teen in quarantine The past year has been so mean Stuck inside all by myself To be cautious of mine and others’ health Afraid of the world, so many reasons why Because of this virus it’s easy to hide Away from the hate and prejudice that’s spread It’s so much easier to hide in my bed Come Together This virus is harsh and outwards it spreads Just like the hate that lives in their heads The racists and bigots who call us their slurs Who hate and blame us and hurt us with words Rise against hate it’s all that we ask Be your brother’s keeper it’s not a hard task Work together with me and stand above all Because together we rise and separate we fall I am my own Why do you care About the color of my skin Or the places that I’ve been Why do you care About the things that I do To myself, not you I am me and you are you Why are my choices So upsetting to you Why do you care about what I do My body belongs to me and me alone It is not a thing or an object for you to own Lauren is a regular contributor for The Universal Asian. To learn more about her, check out her Contributor’s Page here.

Jo Kuan works as a lady’s maid by day, and by night she moonlights as Ms. Sweetie, an advice columnist for a local newspaper. As her column becomes more popular, Jo must work harder to remain hidden or else face the punishment for writing for the newspaper as a Chinese woman. While some work to uncover her, Jo works to uncover her family’s identity and secrets. She must decide if risking her safety for the newspaper and finally learning about her family is worth it. As a Chinese-American and adoptee, I went into this story a bit wary of how it would impact me. I immediately fell in love with the protagonist, Jo Kuan. Her spunky and independent spirit had me rooting for her the entire time. Like many of us, Jo was able to find her individuality and strength through writing. Her journey of investigating her family resonated with me. One particular quote stood out and I was impressed that the author, Stacey Lee, could describe the longing to know your parents so well. “Wondering about my parents is a strange kind of agony, an itch that I can’t help scratching until it causes pain.” The story continued to resonate with me as it describes a time in the South when people of color were experiencing segregation and racism. While the Chinese characters were considered “colored,” some people still saw them as more “in-between” than anything else. Despite being a fictional story, "The Downstairs Girl" reminded me of the struggles and challenges Chinese-Americans faced. The plot twists and reveals about Jo’s family were a bit surprising to me. Although unpredictable, I thought a lot of the story was wrapped up too neatly. Jo toed a dangerous line by writing under a pen name and her confidence could have gotten her in a lot of trouble, yet there was not much fallout for any of her actions as the story continued. As a result, everything felt resolved, but a bit unrealistic. Overall, "The Downstairs Girl" was a really powerful story. I found myself represented as a Chinese-American in this historical fiction; but even more so, the story resonated with my adoptee identity in ways I hadn’t expected.

Boba or Starbucks? Sweet little pearls Or a caffeinated high I drink your sweet nectar And spend so much to buy Just a little bit of happy For a moment I sigh One or the other I need to decide Starbucks or Boba I can’t make up my mind Winter Icy and cold  Are the long winter months Feels like the North Pole Where the polar bear hunts White is the snow that falls on the ground Small little flurries float all around Take me away  With the bitter snow I want to play I want to go Lauren is a regular contributor for The Universal Asian. To learn more about her, check out her Contributor’s Page here.

*Trigger Warnings: Mental Illness, Suicide Anna Chiu is a typical high schooler to everyone else. Only she and her family know what’s really going on at home. Her mom hasn’t gotten out of bed in months and her dad spends all of his time at their restaurant, leaving Anna to take care of her younger siblings. Anna’s father hires a new delivery boy, Rory, and Anna finally thinks she can have some semblance of a normal upbringing. However, when her mom finally gets out of bed, things go from bad to worse and Anna is left with more responsibility than she can manage. "The Surprising Power of a Good Dumpling" was surprising indeed. I went into it without reading the book jacket summary, and was immediately drawn into the depth of the story. I was expecting a typical young adult romance about a girl who struggles to balance school, her family obligations, and a budding relationship. Instead, I read an enthralling story that examined loyalty, identity, and mental health. I could relate to Anna and her need to protect her family. I felt for her as she watched her mother’s condition worsen, and had hope for her when she found a solid support system through Rory. The romance aspect was a bit lacking and I would hesitate to call this a young adult romance novel. Rather, it was a bittersweet story about a young woman who has been thrust into a new role of responsibility and her journey to recognizing she cannot do it alone. I appreciated the use of Jyutping throughout the novel. While I am not a Cantonese speaker, I enjoyed getting to read the Cantonese words and phrases used by Anna and her family. It added to their dynamic and helped me understand their relationships. I also appreciated the depictions and discussions of racism and microaggressions. There were only a few and did not overpower the story, but did add another layer to show what Anna and her family endure as Chinese-Australians. Lastly, the conversation and theme of mental health throughout the story was incredible. Wai Chim showed multiple layers and perspectives when it comes to mental health. Not all of the characters were willing to even acknowledge that mental health was important while others were acutely aware of the power of mental health and therapy. Like in the real world, the story didn’t have a nice, fairy-tale ending. Instead, it reminded me that life can be hard, and we must persevere and keep fighting for what we love. Overall, this was a great story about mental health and support that also offered representation and validation for Asian readers. Get your copy here!

As we rang in 2021, hopes were rising due to the vaccine being rolled out, the fact that a new U.S. President would be sworn in, the idea that COVID-19 might become a thing of the past, and the majority of the world just wanting 2020 to end. However, shortly after January 1, 2021, travel and lockdowns around the world became only stricter with the new variants of COVID-19 emerging; all bringing 2021 into question and if it would actually usher in the end of COVID-19 and the unique and extremely difficult challenges we’ve been facing. 2020 for me, as many readers may know, was a tumultuous year with, just to name a few things, the confirmation through DNA with my Korean father, a paternal lawsuit filed and won, and his passing. I have a hard time just calling him “my father,” as I legally have two fathers. However, only one of them (my adoptive father, whom I hate to give that title) truly feels like my father, even though my other father actually created me. Feeding into that thought process; now imagine mourning this man who created you, without ever intrinsically knowing him. I’ve seen him from afar, and met him up close whilst hidden behind a mask, sunglasses, and a hat. However, I do not know him and now I never will. This man who created me, who knew my mother’s identity, and who abandoned me twice is still someone I have had to mourn. It’s not easy to describe nor for an outsider to understand. Those around me tried to, and would, comfort me with words such as: “He wasn’t your real father…” or “Just think of your immediate family and be thankful.” The list goes on of inappropriate words meant to be of comfort for someone who has just lost their father. In reality, for an adoptee, or any child, who has been estranged from their parent, losing them is not something you should or can just forget about or carelessly disregard. This person is still your parent who brought you into this world, and you have the right and even the need to mourn that loss. It may not be the same feeling of loss or grieving you may go through if you knew them your entire lifetime and built good memories with them. Maybe that is what makes the loss even greater, because you don’t have that foundation of good memories, or any memories for that matter, to carry you through the weight of the loss and pain you feel at that moment—it’s just emptiness and a deep sense of despair as you think about and wish for it to have been different. Just as 2020 had started with the hope of being only steps away from knowing whom my mother is and confirming whom my father was, it ended with the hopelessness of my father’s family secret being scattered under a tree in a fancy park in Seoul. 2021 brings lawyers in Kakao messenger chats yet again as inheritance is being negotiated, and with that the hope once again that I can gain the information I seek by leveraging my inheritance rights, and yet another lawsuit. The only way this family will be in any form of contact with me is through a lawyer it seems, so I’m left with no choice but to navigate uncharted territory. Throughout this continued fight, I’m still a wife, mother of two precious children, and business owner. Even during this pandemic and lockdown where time seems to be at a standstill for many, there still aren’t enough hours in the day for me. My heart is divided as the yearning to find the answers I seek is still so strong, yet to keep myself sane, and for the sake of my family I must focus on life in the now. It’s a constant battle, as an adoptee, to balance these two important facets of life. Since the trial and media explosion, I’ve been doing my own small part in adoptee advocacy by sharing my story, and also giving advice to adoptees in their search journeys. It’s been rewarding to even help reunite a couple adoptees with their birth families, and settles some of the restlessness I feel as I cannot go to Korea to search as I desire. However, the deeper I delve into adoption advocacy and the actual truth behind adoption, it all becomes so depleting and depressing to see the evil that continues to exist in the exploitation of helpless women, children, and the poor. I have read countless true stories of the illegal practices of adoption, and about how the West practices colonization around the world, by using wealth, education, and health care to exploit the most vulnerable all in the name of “the best interests of the child.” In doing so, the West overlooks the essential basic human need of keeping a child in their birth country and the preservation of first families, to the point that it pains me to have any hope for change. I keep speaking the truth to my small audience, but yearn for a larger one to rip apart the lies that surround the adoption narrative. Advocates have come and gone before me, and it seems that the lies continue to be stronger than our truths. Why is that? How do we get the power to change it? How many more decades, or even centuries, will have to pass for people to see past the sugar coating that surrounds the bitter truth of what adoption, especially inter-country adoption, is? In the Netherlands, where I live, an investigative adoption committee was formed in 2018 due to a Brazilian adoptee who filed a lawsuit against the Dutch government in regards to his illegal adoption and their role in facilitating his adoption. His wasn’t the first story to make headlines, but it was enough to pressure the Dutch government to set up an independent committee to investigate adoption procedures from 1967-1998 in five different countries: Bangladesh, Brazil, Colombia, Indonesia, and Sri Lanka. The report was delivered to the Dutch government on February 8, 2021 and they advised that inter-country adoption be immediately stopped, to which the government followed! It has caused quite the uproar in the adoption channels as no one expected such “drastic” measures to be taken so quickly. However, if one reads the report, how can one not expect the Dutch government to respond in this manner? The report concludes that “abuses and their consequences are not a thing of the past; they are still relevant today.” The committee recognized that adoptions have decreased and reform has been carried out to various degrees to prevent abuse, “but that has not removed the system’s financial incentives, and there is still a demand for children. This gives rise to a ‘waterbed effect’: the channels for adoption shift to countries—at the moment primarily African countries—which do not have controls in place.” The committee screened an additional 18 countries for abuse before and after 1998 and abuse was found in all of the additional countries before and after 1998. It’s validating to read what adoptees have been speaking about for decades. However, this time it’s an independent report giving advice to a governing body who “seems” to be listening. I emphasize "seems," as just with any political headline that circulates, it’s important to read the fine print and actually see the practical reform measures put in place. First, the Minister of Legal Protection, Sander Dekkers, recognizes the Dutch government’s lack of responsibility taken in these illegal practices, which for adoptees is a gigantic step of finally being heard. Initial measures include the establishment of a center for “post-care” servicing, as recommended by the committee, to facilitate birth family searches, and access to adoption files. Furthermore, the statute of limitations will no longer be invoked in proceedings of adoptees against the Dutch government. This is relevant to Dilani Butink, an adoptee who filed a lawsuit in 2020 against the Dutch government due to her illegal adoption, but whose case was thrown out of court due to this very statute of limitations. However, if after a year of investigations an independent committee has confirmed that these illegal practices have occurred, why should the victims then be forced to file a lawsuit in order to receive justice for the crimes committed against them? Isn’t this, yet again, a lax response  by the government shirking responsibility? Will this result in just an explosion of headlines, only to fizzle out and disappear, leaving children to continue to be exploited by the inter-country adoption process? Only we, as adult adoptees, can determine this fate. Just as the report also recognizes that the reason why public sentiment has slowly been changing in regards to adoption being seen as “doing something good,” is largely due to adult adoptee voices. As adopted children have become adults and have been voicing their truths (oftentimes after searching for their origins and uncovering illegal practices) and fighting for justice; truth is prevailing and becoming louder than the lies surrounding adoption practices. Suspension of inter-country adoption in the Netherlands is due to the committee’s recommendation and conclusion: “The system of inter-country adoption with private elements cannot be maintained in its current form. The committee has serious doubts about whether it is possible to design a realistic public-law system under which the abuses identified could no longer occur. Pending the outcome of the decision-making process, the committee recommends suspending inter-country adoption.” This suspension is due to adoptees having the courage to use their voices and fight for current and future adoptees. I will continue to speak, even if my voice and audience are small. However, if we collectively speak, then the noise can only become louder. Then, it won’t only be the Dutch government listening, but every country in the world that hosts adoption. From one adoptee to another, we’re two million strong, so please unite and join the movement: #NotAThing.

Mermaids do exist…. A free diver can swim underwater without the aid of a breathing apparatus. They hold their breath for as long as possible and explore the ocean. There are different communities of free divers around the world. Some of them participate competitively, while others do it as a source of livelihood. One example of the latter is a group of divers who are often called haenyeo. A haenyeo is a free diver on Jeju Island off the coast of South Korea. They are mainly elderly women with the capacity to swim up to 30 meters. They catch a variety of sea life, including shellfish and seaweed. Their catch of the day is their life source. They eat it, sell it, and sustain it. Writer Tina Cho and illustrator Jess X. Snow collaborated to tell a wholesome story that displays love and respect for this Korean tradition in "The Ocean Calls: A Haenyeo Mermaid Story." This children’s book depicts the daily life of a haenyeo while telling a story of a young girl named Dayeon and her bonding experience with her grandmother. Her grandmother teaches her how to become a haenyeo with lessons about embracing the ocean despite many fears. Dayeon also examines the many joys and beauties in the ocean. The beauty shines in bold colors of orange, yellow, blue, and purple. The orange and yellow rays of the sun are present on every page. They constantly give a sense of warmth and abundance. This sensation makes the haenyeo lifestyle look welcoming, even though it is laborious. Shades of blue accentuate the freedom and the depth of diving in the water, which looks like home for the women. Purple counterbalances the force of the other colors with a calming sentiment. A sentiment, which is important for the divers to have because of the dangerous nature of their work. To complement the colors, the pictures often celebrate the meaning of community. Multiple scenes have the group of women either huddling together or assisting one another. Of course, there are also scenes of the divers harmoniously swimming with the creatures of the ocean. A wealth of knowledge is also available in the back of the book. The brief, factual context helps to tell a bigger story that goes beyond a family tradition. Like many other traditional lifestyles around the globe, such as the golden-eagle hunters of Mongolia and mountain climbers of Nepal, the traditional lifestyle of the haenyeo are diligently protected and supported by a few organizations. Their culture is worth preserving. Haenyeo have priceless experience with the ocean and humane fishing. As the author explains, their impact is vital for “indigenous businesswomen and indigenous marine biologists.” "The Ocean Calls" can instill a sense of pride for tradition, and it can also provide appreciation for marine life. This is worth reading out loud with a child or alone; try whistling like a mermaid: Hoowi!

Ivy Lin was taught how to shoplift by her grandmother and uses her skill to acquire the necessary items to fit into suburban America. Perhaps, her biggest reward was grabbing the attention of Gideon Speyer. Years later, Ivy is an adult and runs into Gideon’s sister, Sylvia. Their serendipitous meeting sparks a new relationship with Gideon and his family, but when someone from Ivy’s past also reappears, she is faced with new challenges and decisions as she works to uphold her new, perfect American life. "White Ivy" by Susie Yang was a slow burn for me. While I could relate to Ivy as a Chinese-American working hard to fit in, that was where my connection to her ended. I didn’t find Ivy to be that likable of a protagonist; however, Susie Yang did a great job of making me feel for Ivy despite not liking her. While I didn’t always agree with Ivy’s behavior, her struggle to rise to the top as an immigrant was raw and gritty. For much of the story, I would classify this as an immigrant story and literary fiction. Towards the end, it began shifting more towards a thriller. I predicted one of the twists, but was still deeply engrossed in the aftermath that Ivy experienced. The final twist wasn’t exactly of the thriller genre, but was still big enough to potentially change the entire course of Ivy’s life. Again, I’m not sure I agree with her choices, but do appreciate how they remind me that life is complicated, and humans are complex. "White Ivy" was a unique and raw look at a coming-of-age, immigrant story that shows just how complex and manipulative people can be. The question is: “How far is one willing to go to make it to the top?”

Boxes I’m trapped feel trapped in a box There’s no way out There’s a door but it’s locked I’m filled with doubt I need to get out Let me spread my wings There’s no correct route The silence still rings People will leave And people will go But I’m trapped in this box And no one will know What is your Problem What is your problem With the color of my skin It is different than yours You act like that’s sin “Racism was long ago” “Leave it behind us” You say this to me Then blame me for a virus What is your problem What did I do I may not be from here But neither are you Who Do You See What do I wear How should I do my hair So much to decide But do I really care? Who do I dress for Is it me or is it you All of these choices I don’t know what to do What do you like Versus what I prefer No matter what I do You will only see her Lauren is a regular contributor for The Universal Asian. To learn more about her, check out her Contributor’s Page here.

Recently, two major events happened in South Korea that hit world headlines. The first one was about a single mother who put her child up for sale on the Korean form of Craigslist for 200,000 KRW (approx. 175 USD). The media went crazy, and adoption lobbyists staked their claim in justifying her actions because the Korean government has made child registration mandatory, thereby creating an “obstacle” for women to anonymously give their child up. As a result, adoption lobbyists have championed for changing laws in order to make adoption more accessible, and have demanded that mandatory child registration be retracted. The South Korean government sent out a somewhat positive message as they promised to reform support for single parents. However, tackling the issue of how a 27-year-old woman came about to having to resort to listing her child for sale still has not been addressed. The media confirmed that the father was unwilling to take responsibility. However, the following questions remain unasked/unanswered: “Where was her family or at the very least social services, to support her in the helplessness she felt?” “What kinds of resources were at her disposal for her mental health?” News reports have stated that she resorted to these desperate actions three days after giving birth at a postnatal center, and that she had planned to enter a single mother’s facility after being discharged. It is not difficult to imagine, if even only to some small degree, as to the utter despondency she was experiencing. The lack of societal understanding, the immense amount of stigma surrounding unwed mothers, and the lack of social welfare support to provide her with the financial and mental health resources to be able to care for her child are what pushed her to making this this cry for help. South Korea has been exporting children since 1955 due to social stigmas. It was first due to biracial children who were fathered and abandoned by foreign soldiers during and after the Korean War. However, in the 1970s and 1980s, at the peak of adoptions, it was due to unwed mothers, which to this day remains the main cause of international and domestic adoption in South Korea. When will this structurally change? When will the stigmas surrounding unwed mothers end? When will the preservation of first families be prioritized over a culture that places hiding shame and practicing exclusion as its emphasis? Then, something so tragic hit the headlines that social media, both in South Korea and around the world, is abuzz with #sorryjeongin, where, Jeong-in, a 16-month-old girl was murdered by her adoptive parents, only eight months after being adopted. Her injuries were so severe that when SBS (Seoul Broadcasting System) tried to replicate, in their investigative documentary, how she died, only a boxer landing a full heavy blow could achieve the force required to get the degree of pancreatic rupture she had experienced. SBS also showed how the police failed to investigate Jeong-in’s case after several people, including daycare center workers, had filed reports months in advance. Holt Children Services, who were in charge of her adoption, made an official apology, but shirked any form of responsibility stating that they had followed all procedures mandated by the government. There were three house visits, including two that had been immediately conducted after child abuse reports were claimed. According to the Korea JoongAng Daily, Holt only asked the adoptive parents to take better care of the child and made multiple phone calls afterwards for another visit, but were rejected. Holt asked the Gangseo Child Protection Center, which has investigative power, to get involved and take action, but nothing was done. To this day, agencies within the government and private sector continue to point the finger of blame at one another, but for Jeong-in it is all too late­—her precious life snuffed out. As the uproar continued via petitions posted on the website of South Korea’s seat of government—the Blue House—in which demands for a harsher sentencing of the adoptive parents and for someone to be held accountable have been made with more than 200,000 signatures in a day, President Moon Jae-in made a statement. During his New Year’s press conference he stated in response to a reporter’s question and to the chagrin of many: “Even after adoption, the adoptive parents need to check if the adoption is working out for them. So there should be complementary measures allowing them to cancel the adoption, or if they still want to adopt a child, they should be able to change the child.” This has resulted in another societal uproar as his comments were streamed live on Youtube, and the majority of people have recognized the fact that exchanging a child in the adoption process is wrong no matter the reason. If an adoption has led to this path even being considered, then there many errors were clearly made from the beginning. President Moon’s party defended his comments stating that they were taken out of context and that he was referring to what those in the States know of as the foster care system. However, even if this was the case, how could a former human rights lawyer, politician, and the President of South Korea be so inarticulate? Adoptees, adoptive parents, and everyday citizens have been outraged at the mere notion that he could relate a child in an adoption process to a commodity that can be exchanged. All of this has given rise to a campaign started by a small group of adoptees consisting of Allison Park, Cam Lee, Patrick Armstrong, Kevin Omans, Brenna McHugh, Valerie Reilly (graphic designer), Richard Peterson, Sarah Monroe (videographer), and myself (Kara Bos). None of us are doing this as members of a specific organization. We are individuals who have been brought together under the cause of speaking out against these insensitive comments. We are each doing our part in trying to open the road to change in the decades-long struggle of securing adoptee rights in South Korea. We make up the core team that has launched #NotAThing #물건아니야—a social media movement that seeks to create online viral support from all of the parties involved in the adoption process in recognizing adoptees as human beings and not commodities. We aim to use our righteous anger about adoptees being viewed as commodities as the momentum to facilitate and demand an apology from President Moon Jae-in along with a meeting that includes decision-making leaders in his government to collaborate with all of the parties involved to create effective change. We are doing so in the form of creating support for our petition at: www.change.org/wearenotathing. We recognize that an apology isn’t enough to prevent another horrific tragedy like Jeong-in was cruelly subjected to from happening again, which is why a meeting with President Moon and those who can facilitate structural change is the real reason behind the campaign; thereby, creating an opening that will allow local advocacy groups and adoptee voices be a part of reforming the current adoption system. The Korea Herald and The Korea Times are both interested in sharing our campaign and in elevating our voices. Online and front-page headlines may bring our campaign to the forefront, but will it be effective? Will it garner enough support to get the attention of President Moon? As of today, January 27, 2021, we only have 1,100 signatures on our petition. There are more than 200,000 of us spread out around the world, and only 1,100 signatures of support… How can we expect the average person to care about adoptee rights or the fact that we shouldn’t be seen as commodities if even our own don’t support us? Time is of the essence, so I can only hope and pray as #NotAThing #물건아니야 continues to spread, and as more adoptees and other individuals share and make their own videos of support that the fears of being ignored will be quelled. Will you please join us in ensuring that current and future adoptees are seen, heard, and protected? Will you help us create an open doorway in ensuring that if an adoption is processed it is done correctly the first and only time? I would encourage you to not just “like” our movement, but to become our movement by making your own video and letting your voice be heard. Too many of us as adoptees have been silent long enough. Jeong-in had her voice silenced because of the silence of others. Let us raise our voices together and let us be heard, so that no other adoptee is ever silenced again.

All original images by A.D. Herzel. Do not copy or use without direct permission from the artist.