“Perhaps part of belonging is learning to believe
that I already have a place at the table.”
The following reflection is my own. It does not represent the opinions or experiences of other adoptees. As with all of my reflections, I want the Haneul audience to experience my own thoughts and perspectives as I continue my adoption journey. These are simply my thoughts and feelings this week.
Good morning, Haneul Travelers.
This is my fourth trip to Korea. However, this trip feels different because this trip is for me. It is a journey of self-discovery, a chance to reconnect with my roots, and an opportunity to better understand the part of myself that began here 39 years ago.
As I continue on this solo journey, this past week has been quite interesting. Since it is my first full week back in Korea, I have spent a lot of time traveling through the streets of Suwon alone. Walking by myself has given me time to think—not only about Korea, but also about who I am when I am here.
As I walk through Suwon, I find myself thinking about questions that many Korean adoptees might also ask if they were traveling these same streets. We may recognize something familiar in the faces around us, yet still feel uncertain about where we fit. We may have been born here, but many of us were raised thousands of miles away.
The main thought on my mind this week has centered around one question: When do I stop feeling like a guest and start feeling like I am home?
When I talk to friends back in the United States, I often explain that I am traveling to Korea—my second home. I genuinely believe that. Korea is the country where my life began. It is where my birth mother and other members of my birth family live. It is connected to my identity in ways I am still learning to understand.
However, whenever I arrive in Korea, I find myself asking the same question: When do I go from feeling like a guest in the country where I was born 39 years ago to feeling like I truly belong here?
Some people might say I feel this way because I do not understand the language or fully understand the culture. Those things certainly affect my experience. Not being able to communicate easily can make me feel dependent on others. Not understanding every custom can make me question whether I am behaving appropriately.
However, I believe the feeling goes much deeper than language and culture.
The lessons and values I grew up with in the United States remain part of me wherever I go. My adoptive parents raised me to appreciate my circumstances and to be grateful for the things provided to me. I do not know whether this is entirely a good thing or a bad thing. To be honest, it may fall somewhere in the middle.
Of course, gratitude is important. We should appreciate the people who care for us and the opportunities that help us grow. However, what happens when gratitude begins to shape the way we understand every relationship? At what point does being grateful begin to affect our personality or our perception of what it means to receive love?
As Korean adoptees, many of us grow up hearing that we should be grateful for the lives we were given. We may be told to appreciate our adoptive families, our homes, and the opportunities we received through adoption.
I am grateful to my adoptive parents. They raised me as their own child and provided me with everything they could. They gave me opportunities and experiences that I may never have received if I had not been adopted.
I also recognize how fortunate I was to have good adoptive parents. After hearing heartbreaking stories from Korean adoptees who did not have positive experiences with their adoptive families, I am grateful for the life I had growing up.
But gratitude can become complicated when it begins to feel like a debt.
When you grow up believing that everything you receive must somehow be repaid, it can become difficult to accept care without wondering what you owe in return. You may appreciate what someone does for you while also feeling uncomfortable simply receiving it.
While being here with my birth mother, I have sometimes felt like a guest. This is not because my family makes me feel that way. In all honesty, my family here in Korea has done everything possible to make sure I feel like part of the family.
The feeling comes from within me.
Whenever someone gives me something or does something for me, my first instinct is to make sure I return the same level of appreciation. I do not want to inconvenience anyone. I do not want to take more than I give. I do not want to feel as though I owe someone something.
That way of thinking may make sense in many relationships, but the love between a mother and her child does not always work that way.
A mother does not necessarily care for her child because she expects to be repaid. She may simply do it because that is how she expresses love. Perhaps receiving that love does not create a debt. Perhaps gratitude is not about immediately giving something equal in return.
Maybe gratitude can simply mean accepting that love, appreciating it, and allowing it to become part of the relationship.
That is difficult for me.
I am beginning to realize that feeling like a guest may not be entirely about Korea. It may also be connected to whether I allow myself to receive love without feeling that I must earn it or repay it.
A guest appreciates everything because they know they will eventually leave. A family member can also be appreciative, but they understand that care is part of the relationship. They do not have to earn their place at the table every time they sit down.
“Perhaps part of belonging is learning to believe that I already have a place at that table.”
Honestly, I do not know whether all of this makes sense. Even for me, the relationship between gratitude, love, and belonging can be confusing. Understanding how these ideas affect our relationships can feel incredibly complex.
This brings me back to my original question: At what point does someone go from feeling like a guest to feeling like they belong?
Do I have to learn the language and become fluent? Do I have to fully understand Korean culture? Do I have to understand every part of my birth family’s life?
Or is belonging something that develops slowly, through time, trust, shared experiences, and the willingness to let other people care for us?
Honestly, I do not know the answer, and that truly bothers me. As someone who analyzes every detail of my life, it frustrates me that this question—which may seem so easy to answer—is so complex in my mind.
Do other reunited Korean adoptees feel the same way? Do they also wonder when they will stop feeling like visitors? Do they ever struggle to accept love from their birth families without feeling that they must somehow repay it?
Maybe, as I continue to grow and take more trips to Korea, I will find the answer. Maybe I will never find one complete answer.
I may also be asking the wrong question.
Instead of asking when I will finally belong, perhaps I should ask when I will allow myself to believe that I belong.
“Belonging may not require me to choose between America and Korea.”
Belonging may not require perfect fluency or a complete understanding of every cultural difference. Perhaps belonging means accepting that both places are part of me, even when my relationship with each one feels different.
Until I understand that more clearly, I will take things one step at a time. I will continue building my relationship with my birth mother and learning how to accept her love without turning every act of care into something that must be repaid.
I do know one thing: My families in America and Korea mean a great deal to me. They are both part of my story, and they are both part of the person I am still becoming.
Until I find the balance that brings me peace and happiness, I will continue learning, growing, and cherishing each moment.
Thank you for taking the time to read this week’s reflection.