I'm Proud to be Korean—Thanks to My Daughter

I’m finally proud to say I’m Korean—thanks to my daughter

I am finally embracing the skin that I'm in, and it is all because of her—and she doesn't even know it yet.

My daughter saved me in a way that I didn’t even know I needed to be saved. Let’s start back in the beginning.

I’ve never had to be told that I was different from my family growing up. When you’re a Korean girl raised in a Dutch family while attending a predominantly white school in an even “whiter” town, you tend to draw attention to yourself. Which is the exact opposite of what you want when all that you desire is to be like everyone else.

It goes without saying that I never needed to be told that I was adopted. I was (of course) told the amazing, self-sacrificing story of the choice my birth mother made when she put me up for adoption. However, I also endured the dark side of being a transracial adoptee.

It became normal for me to be riddled with anxiety when confronting anyone new. It wasn’t a question of if they were going to ridicule me in some way, but how they would do it.

Having my daughter changed me in the most unimaginable, unexpected and beautiful way.

My average day of school consisted of classmates pulling their eyes into a slant and speaking fake Chinese to me.

Long story short, it was easier to either: beat them to the punch and mock myself before they got the chance to (I mean, that’s how the saying goes right? If you can’t beat them, join them) or completely repress any feelings, curiosity, questions, comments or concerns relating to being Korean.

Surprisingly enough, this post is not about looking back and feeling sorry for myself. It’s a thank you that I strongly hope reaches my daughter someday. It’s a message that I hope reaches adoptees all around.

Having my daughter changed me in the most unimaginable, unexpected and beautiful way.

As many of my friends and family had already stepped into the world of motherhood, I felt as though I had at least a few things that I could expect. I anticipated the lack of sleep, the hormonal ups and downs—the ones I couldn’t even keep up with (let alone my husband).

But in reality, the first thing I thought that went through my head was even a surprise to myself. I looked at my daughter and said, “WOW. I have someone in my life who looks like me.”

I will never get tired of hearing people say how much we look alike. I have heard it about everyone—moms and their daughters, dads and their sons.

I have embarked on not one, but two amazing paths simultaneously: the journey to myself and the journey into motherhood.

Ever since then, it was like a switch flipped inside of me.

I am proud to be Korean.

I am proud that I am taking the emotional risks that are needed to ask the difficult questions that I’ve avoided for my entire life.

I am not afraid or embarrassed to try Korean food or to watch Korean TV shows. I have embarked on not one, but two amazing paths simultaneously: the journey to myself and the journey into motherhood.

I am finally embracing the skin that I’m in, and it is all thanks to my daughter—and she doesn’t even know it yet.

I look at her and I can’t help but think that she is perfect. And because of that, she deserves a mom who can teach her to be proud of the color of her skin and proud of who she is.

Related Stories

Life

7 months pregnant on the campaign trail: How motherhood has changed the way I view politics

Motherly Stories

What is the ‘gratitude trap’? How gratitude can keep us stuck

Getting Pregnant

What to know about using supplements for fertility—and when to start taking them in preconception

The latest