Introduction
You may be surprised to learn that Minnesota has one of the highest number of adopted Koreans, per capita, in the world. in Here: A Visual History of Adopted Koreans in Minnesota, Kim Jackson and Heewon Lee set out to capture a visual history of some of the individuals that make up the 13,000-15,000 Korean immigrants in Minnesota in this rich tapestry of photographs and oral histories. Here are just a few of the individuals who are featured in this book.
We'd love to hear your stories, too. Please share them in the comments section below.
"There's good and bad stereotypes. I get the stereotype that Asians are smart, in math and science. I hated that. My parents didn't put any expectations on me. They didn't put any pressures on me. But, I think I've always put pressure on myself, to do the best I could, whether in school or in athletics." Read more »
"Going to school was just a normal thing for me. I mean, people would ask me, 'Why aren't your parents Asian?' or something like that, and I'd be kind of confused, like, 'I don't know.' But, finally I asked my parents why they looked different. And so, they told me, 'Oh, you were adopted,' and stuff like that, 'That's why you don't look the same.'; So . . . I just kind of accepted that." Read more »
"I was involved deeply with the Korean American church all the time, and a lot of my close friends are Korean American. I've always identified myself as Korean American. In fact, that's kind of an interesting thing, too -- my parents could never understand why I only date Korean Americans, or Asians, and why I decided to choose a Korean American church." Read more »
These oral histories and photographs from Here: A Visual History of Adopted Koreans in Minnesota by Kim Jackson and Heewon Lee appear with permission from Yeong and Yeong Books, St. Paul, Minnesota.
Credits:
Photographs by Kim Jackson
Book design by Heewon Lee
Oral histories conducted by Kim Park Nelson, Ph.D
Forward and Introduction by Jae Ran Kim, MSW, LGSW
Preface by Wing Young Huie, documentary photographer
Pat Gingles
Pat Gingles
Birthdate: July 5, 1973
Arrival Date: October 1973
Photographed in: St. Cloud
There's good and bad stereotypes. I get the stereotype that Asians are smart, in math and science. I hated that. My parents didn't put any expectations on me. They didn't put any pressures on me. But, I think I've always put pressure on myself, to do the best I could, whether in school or in athletics. You know, obviously growing up in a small town there weren't any minorities, all my friends were Caucasians, or whatever you want to call them. Going to college I wasn't ashamed of who I was. I always considered myself American, or almost, if you will, Caucasian. White.
In my senior year in high school there was a family that just moved into my hometown, and they had two Korean adopted sons. They were in ninth grade or something like that, so I never really got to know them. I was the senior, why would I talk to a freshman? And also I was embarrassed. That's what part of it was, I was embarrassed. Because with my friends, if I hung out or started talking to Asians, they'd say, "Oh, Pat's getting back to his roots," or something, and I don't want that. So I went with the crowd, you know, like most high schoolers. I didn't befriend those two kids. I don't know what they would've said, but back then, you know . . . I'd be embarrassed, if I did that. Maybe, if I would have done it, my friends would have respected me just the same; but I just had this -- maybe it's an irrational fear that they wouldn't accept me for who I am, who I was, if I decided to start being more "pro-Korea," or whatever you want to call it. So I just kind of kept that to myself. Now, I don't give a crap what they think; they wouldn't be my friends if they said things like that, obviously. And they respect what I do now. But back in high school, it's a small group and, you know, it's just peer pressure. That kind of stuff. So I didn't reach out, or I didn't really investigate, or get to know anyone, I guess.
Moving to the Twin Cities was an adjustment. It's kind of like the pot, or the kettle, calling the pot black? I was the only minority in my town, and I'd never been accustomed to seeing African Americans. Then going to live in Minneapolis, I'm like [laughing] "Wow! there's a lot of minorities here!" It's like, this is kind of funny. I'm the one that's saying it: I'm a minority and I'm saying that to other minorities.
I remember being at the University of St. Thomas with a friend, eating at the cafeteria. There were a couple of foreign students ahead of me, and they had really thick accents. I remember the lunch lady asking me if I was part of that group. And I said, "No," you know, with disdain, like, "How can she mistake me for that group . . . can't you tell? You know, I'm speaking English with clear diction," and so on. I guess maybe I had a chip on my shoulder back then. I didn't associate myself with Asians, I guess. It was like a "man without a country" type of thing--I was in America, but then if I go back to Korea, I wasn't Korean. Now that I'm older, you know, I'm proud of who I am, and it took me a while to figure out who I am. I didn't consider myself Korean, I considered myself American. My friends considered me American, I guess, just as one of them. They accepted me, but I didn't accept myself. I tried to push everything in my history, or where I was from, just in the back, because . . . I don't know if I was ashamed of who I was or what. I guess I didn't know enough information. About where I was from.
When I was younger, my grandparents had befriended a Korean student. He was getting his Masters in Lincoln, Nebraska. My grandmother may have been in some kind of group, or something; she was a professor at UNL. She kind of just befriended and was kind of the host type of family for this Korean couple. Probably back then--this was back in the mid-80s--they were probably 25 at the time. So on occasion, we'd visit our grandparents and we'd see them once in a while. And so, fast-forward to a few years ago. I had an old e-mail address for this Korean couple. So I contacted them, and they were more than happy for me to visit them in Korea. I think he got his doctorate in engineering. So they moved back, and they were living there for three years or so after he got done with school. So it was like, "Hey, I was just wondering if I could come visit?" "Yeah, absolutely." After living here for ten years, they could speak really, really good English. So I went there, just open-minded, and stayed with them for two weeks. That trip was kind of the beginning of me getting back to my roots, I guess. And by then I was old enough to know who I am and not follow the crowd. I can decide on my own and I'm confident in myself. And so I fell in love with Korea and, actually, met my wife there.
When I went over for the first time in 2003, I did contact the adoption agency here, LSS. They didn't have much. They just gave me their sister agency over there, KSS. The family that I was staying with, they were more than happy to help. The wife talked to the KSS rep. They looked at my case number and they didn't have anything. Their story is that the record-keeping back in the '70s was just crappy. I made, or she made, that one call, and it's like, "There really isn't much." The wife said, "We can drive there," but it's like, screw it, you know? We stopped.
Each person is different and that's just how I am. I don't know the reasons why I was put up for adoption, but I don't feel abandoned. I don't feel like I need to find my parents and ask them why. I have a good life, I got a great family, and there was probably a reason why my biological parents, you know, put me up for adoption. I'd be working in the rice field and . . . well, I don't know. So I'm saying, I have a hell of a good life here, I got a roof over my head, I got a job, and who knows what I'd be over there? And so, it's like, you know what? I'm happy, I got a great, great family support system, great friends. I'm content, I don't really need to feel complete. I flew 10,000 miles, I'll make a phone call. But after that -- that was it.
The only thing is, I would like to know . . . my personality. My [adopted] brother and sister, they're real quiet, and pretty conservative. And I'm the exact opposite: I'm Type A, I'm aggressive, I'm a go-getter, I talk fast. I'm loud, obnoxious. I say stuff that sometimes I shouldn't. So I'm like, "Where?" I didn't get it from my mom and dad, because they don't talk, and my brother and sister, they don't talk, so it's just one thing. How I did get my personality? It's kind of funny. But it's just kind of a what -- if, or a daydream kind of thing. So that's the only thing. Oh, and maybe a health history. Looking back to that incident in the lunch line, it's just one of those things that stands out, you know, about who I was back then, and who I am now. There's a reason why things happen, and that kind of got me out of my shell and made me reassess where I'm at in my life. It made me think, "Well, let's start exploring this." I always wanted to go to Korea, and now I'm not shy or embarrassed of what my friends will say.
These oral histories and photographs from Here: A Visual History of Adopted Koreans in Minnesota by Kim Jackson and Heewon Lee appear with permission from Yeong and Yeong Books, St. Paul, Minnesota.
Anna Boyd
Anna Boyd
Birthdate: February 3, 1991
Arrival Date: June 21, 1991
Photographed in: Eagan
Going to school was just a normal thing for me. I mean, people would ask me, "Why aren't your parents Asian?" or something like that, and I'd be kind of confused, like, "I don't know." But, finally I asked my parents why they looked different. And so, they told me, "Oh, you were adopted," and stuff like that, "That's why you don't look the same." So . . . I just kind of accepted that. But at school, the questions would keep building . . . They were asking "OK, so, if you're adopted, then who are your real parents?" or "Have you ever met your real parents? Do you have any siblings?" and stuff like that. Those questions that would be asked over and over again. It used to bother me, because the questions would be so repetitive. But now, I just kind of tune it out, because I've gotten it so many times. It doesn't really even bother me anymore.
There were a few African American kids in some of my elementary school classes, but the classes were mostly white. And then middle school was like, a variety. There was just mixed, mixed races. Now, in high school, there's a lot of everything. There's mostly whites, but I see a lot of other Asian people, and Hispanics, and African Americans. It used to feel like I was, like, the only one. But now, now that I see so many other different races, I don't feel that way anymore . . . I like it better now, because you're not . . . if someone wants to pick on a race, you're not the only person there that's representing that race . . . I have many friends that are Asian and African American and stuff. I think it's easier than, like, with white people, because they ask so many questions about your race. People who are, like, ethnic and stuff like that, they get those questions, too, so they don't ask you.
In school, sometimes people would be like, "Oh, you, you're a chink," and "She's Asian, she's not supposed to do this." Blah blah blah. "She's not supposed to be good at this." I got that in, like, late elementary school, fifth grade, fourth grade, and then kind of just through middle school. But now that everyone's in high school, everyone has matured a lot more and they just know better than to do that. Because that's "below" our grade, right now, and our maturity level. But they, those are the worst, just like "chink" and stuff like that, those are the ones that I get. When I would tell my parents, they would just tell me the same things, like: "Turn the other cheek, just ignore it" and stuff like that. But I would tell them, it's really hard to ignore it when you're sitting in a classroom and the person in front of you is calling you that. To just look them in the eye and have them call you that. My parents would just say, "Oh, if you just don't talk to them at all, don't even make eye contact, they're just going to stop, because it's going to get boring without getting a reaction out of you." So, I did that, but I just had a few of them just thrown at me. But it doesn't bother me any more. Because there's so many different people out there, that if they call me it, then they're calling basically like every Asian that.
I went to Korean culture camps for, I can't remember how long, but it was through elementary school and stuff. And I stopped before high school. I was too young then, I think, to really realize why I was there. Like, what purpose it was there for. I just thought it was just one of these camps that you go to . . . I used to think, like, "Oh yeah, the camp was fun and everything." But then I guess it just got boring for me because I get bored easily with stuff like that. And my parents, I guess, they just decided that I didn't have to go anymore . . . my sister was interested in it, but she was older at the time. So, she understood more than I did, and I think I was just, like, there to be there. I mean, I was learning a little bit of Korean each day, but it wasn't, like, making that big of an impact on me. So, it was just this little daily routine that I went through, I guess . . . I think it showed me that I was not the only Korean adopted person in the whole world, besides my sister. And seeing the wide variety of those other people, I guess, right now, thinking about it makes me feel like I'm not the only person here. There are millions of other people here.
When I was really, really young, I had a thing for dancing; I used to dance a lot. I joined a Korean dance group a couple of years ago. And the only reason why I did that is because I had made a bargain with my mom: if I joined the Chang Mi Korean dance group, I could get our dog. I was never really interested in going to dance every Saturday morning, having to get up early, not being able to sleep in. And on Sunday afternoons, doing performances that were here and there. I mean, I guess I'm sort of grateful, because, I have a bunch of friends there; but there's so much drama going on between the people, like "Oh, I think she hates me secretly" or something. I'm just getting tired of having to spend all my weekends at dance. And I can tell my sister is, too. Because she's getting more angered, easily, about going to dance and doing performances and having to help out other kids with dance. My mom knew I wasn't going to give up on the dog subject, and she probably just wanted me to be around other Korean girls and not to always have, like, one-race friendships. But, I have a lot of friends -- like, even more friends than and I used to -- and, like I said, the drama is unbelievable.
Out of all my friends, I'd have to probably say 25% of them are adopted but aren't from Korea. My Asian friends, we all kind of, like, have the same interests and stuff like that, but they're not all from Korea. Some of them are from, like, Vietnam, or China, or Taiwan--or they're Hmong or something like that. But, we all kind of act the same way. But adoptees who aren't from Korea, I mean, we still have a lot in common. And that's partly why we're friends, because we have stuff in common. So, I don't really separate them from each other. I look at them as equals . . . Well, with my friends I know that there are differences, even if they're still from Korea. I mean, they have different things about themselves and I have different things about myself. But, in the family, it just doesn't really matter to me.
My friend Tou -- he's Hmong -- he says, like, "So, you've never met your parents?" and all of those stereotype questions like that. But then he'll actually be interested in it. He'll be, like, "So, do you speak any Korean? Do you know when you were born? Like, what exact time? Or where you were born?" and stuff like that. And I'll say, "No," because I don't. But he asks more questions than anyone else, because he's actually interested in it. He's not adopted, but he has other friends that are. It doesn't bother me, because I know he's curious about it . . . But just being Asian himself, he knows all the racial comments. I mean, he's gotten a fair few of them, too. And I've been around him when he's gotten some, and I have to just kind of restrain myself from, like, jumping them. But, yeah, I get angry when I'm kind of put off to the side because I'm different. I mean, the last thing I want to be is selected out of a large group of other different races. I don't want to be, like, discriminated against. Or just picked out because I'm different. One of my fears of going to school is being chosen out of a group because I'm different. Like: I'm Asian, I'm adopted, I don't speak Korean, even though I'm Korean, and I don't know anything about my birth parents, and . . . That's the things that I think are different about me than other adoptees. I mean, a lot of my adopted friends have met their parents -- their birth parents . . . But I haven't, yet. And, it's not a big deal, because I know in some part of my future that I will. Because my dad promised me that I would, sometime. It doesn't really matter to me when, but, it matters that I do. So I can just, like, get that out of the back of my head.
These oral histories and photographs from Here: A Visual History of Adopted Koreans in Minnesota by Kim Jackson and Heewon Lee appear with permission from Yeong and Yeong Books, St. Paul, Minnesota.
Andrea Lee
Andrea Lee
Birthdate: July 2, 1973
Arrival Date: December 7, 1973
Photographed in: Brooklyn Center
I was involved deeply with the Korean American church all the time, and a lot of my close friends are Korean American. I've always identified myself as Korean American. In fact, that's kind of an interesting thing, too -- my parents could never understand why I only date Korean Americans, or Asians, and why I decided to choose a Korean American church. That's because they can never truly understand that racial difference, what it feels to be racially different, and why it might be attractive to me to superficially "fit in." And how the hard work of actually feeling like you fit in was something I had to force myself to do. But they couldn't figure out why I would want to in the first place. Since I had gone to Caucasian American churches all my life, for example.
It's kind of interesting because now the tables are reversed. For example, there were a few times when my family and my husband's family had holidays together. Phil's family lived in Chicago before they went to Mexico on their long-term mission, and we would get together. You know, it's just my dad, my mom and me, and then all of his family -- he has a big family, several siblings, his mom and dad, and whoever--and suddenly my family were outnumbered. They responded very negatively. We no longer ever have any crossover between the families, because of them. Because they feel so different and they feel...kind of the classic white suspicion of people speaking a different language. They feel it's rude and they can't understand why Phil's mom would speak only Korean. And when I explain she does that to everyone -- "Not just you! Me, too!" ‐ they still take it personally.
Religious faith is a very big part of my life. I feel like that is what kept me on course growing up in my very difficult home situation. It's because of my faith in God, and that I think God really protected me all those years from succumbing to the terrible dysfunction of my family. I'm thankful for God helping me to find the right people who would help me through my situation -- I think I could have spent a lot of my life as a highly dysfunctional person who would be unable to have any sort of relationship with anyone if it wasn't for the grace of God that pulled me through. And for different people who have gone out of their way to help me as I grew up, who were there for me as role models or who were there to encourage me. My first college pastor was very influential in my life. I feel like he was the first person that really knew anything of import about my family situation and was able to help me in that way. I also feel like my first boyfriend, even though things didn't work out, he was someone I clung to as I went through so much difficulty with my family. I believe that God brought these different people, including my husband, into my life, so that I could have a better life than the one that I experienced with my family.
For me, I think the true power of becoming Christian, or being Christian, is in seeing the changed lives that can emerge from people who really do believe in God. And who have made a decision to lead a different sort of life. I think that's the center of my faith, that God can change people and can take terrible circumstances and let good come from them. I feel that's definitely what has happened for me. I've always felt that my husband, and his family, and our children are a huge blessing from God.
My two children are just amazing. I always knew that I would probably become a stay-at-home mom when we started a family. I taught at Minnetonka for seven years as a middle-school English teacher, and I immensely enjoyed it, but I definitely walked away without a second glance once we started having children. I'm sure, in many ways, it was because of my experiences as an adoptee. Not only with my own dysfunctional family, but because if I was going to have children I didn't want to screw it up, nor did I want to leave it to other people. I wanted to be involved in their growingup process; I just saw my classroom shrink to two instead of 30 and I'm happy to have that happen. I would rather embrace these different seasons of my life than always wish for something different -- wish I was still teaching, wish the kids were out of diapers, wish the kids were walking, this and that. It's all just a season, or just a stage. It's not like I'll never work again, it's just that right now I'm staying home with them because I want them to be... I want them to know that we love them, and that they are very important to us. And I'm not going to leave that task to someone else. At least during the week. And I think a lot of that really does stem from my feelings that motherhood is really important, and that if I was going to have children, I wanted to really give that my highest priority.
I thought about my adoption much more when I had both of my children, going through the experience of birth and then thinking "This is the moment that my birth mother gave me up for adoption." That was very difficult to fathom. My daughter's birthday is one week from mine, so being pregnant at the same time, 30 years apart from my mom, was a very strange occurrence. A strange thought process for me to go through, thinking that we were walking parallel lives 30 years apart. It was sad to think that. But, again, having no desire to look her up. At the same time, you know, it does provoke a lot of thought. And that's the thing about being an adoptee: every time you think you have your issues worked out, you have another experience which brings something up, a new facet of yourself that you never thought to discover. And then suddenly the issues are there again. I never expected to have these thoughts, or to feel this kind of . . . random bitterness, or kind of . . . not anger, exactly, but just contempt, maybe, for her decision. But I did, when I had my children, because at that moment I couldn't understand. Of course, you can think there are many reasons why you would have to put a child up for adoption. But, at that moment, irrational as it may have been, I definitely had different feelings about it.
Overall in my life, though I came from a difficult family situation, I believe it did serve a purpose. The person I am today, even though a lot of it maybe is a result of doing things that were opposite of what my parents did, those challenges and those experiences really did shape who I am. I do believe my character was built through persevering through some of that adversity and, like I said earlier, through the grace of God. I'm very happy with my life, I'm very happy with who I am, that I am adopted, that I have two beautiful children, that I've made the decisions that I have. I guess I'm unapologetic -- I don't feel that I have to justify why I don't want to do a birth search or why I married someone Korean American. Because that's who I am and that's what I wanted to do and I've tried to live my life in that way.
These oral histories and photographs from Here: A Visual History of Adopted Koreans in Minnesota by Kim Jackson and Heewon Lee appear with permission from Yeong and Yeong Books, St. Paul, Minnesota.