The Universal Asian had the opportunity to chat with Monte Haines to hear about his incredibly painful adoption story that sadly ended up with him being left houseless and penniless upon being deported back to the country he was originally stolen from. Having only come across Monte Haines through all the noise surrounding "Blue Bayou (2021)," we were not quite prepared for the full story that he was about to share with us. He sat in his small apartment, which is provided by the Korean government, and took us through his story of tragedy after tragedy to the present moment. A 4- or 5-year-old Han Oh Kyu, now Monte Haines, was outside playing in South Korea and somehow got disoriented trying to find his way home. While lost, he was snatched off the street, and taken to a police box where he was subsequently sent to an orphanage as he didn’t know the names of his parents to be able to go home. He stayed in the orphanage for about six months before being sent to the U.S. in 1978 to be adopted through Holt International, for which he says they received USD 45,000 for his abduction in 1981. Haines also states that throughout his ordeal, Holt International has been absent and has denied that any wrongdoing occurred related to his adoption origins. Without knowing where he was going, why he was on a plane, or who the people were when he arrived, his nightmare in the U.S. began. Upon arrival, the people who were meant to help and take care of him put Haines in a closet, fed him bread and water, and regularly gave him a beating all over his body with a tree branch. One particular recollection he shared was a time in the winter when he was taken out of the closet, stripped down, chained to a pole with the dog allowed to nip and bark at him. This inhumane treatment went on for over a year. Although allowed to go to school, Haines was warned not to say a word about what was going on at home, and to make excuses about falling down or getting bit by the dog if it ever came up. So, he spent most of his time on his own without friends trying to hide everything going on at home; until one day, when a teacher touched him while he was sitting and he jumped, which caused the teacher to raise the alarm. The teacher had also noticed that he wasn’t going out to eat with the other kids. So, when another touch on the shoulder by the teacher caused Haines to jump, they raised his shirt to see all the black and blue marks all over his body. As he had been instructed by his guardians, he said that it was the dog and all the other excuses he had been told to say. Despite his claims, the teacher and school did not believe him, so Child Protective Services (CPS) was waiting for him when he arrived home after school that day. Haines was transferred to a foster family immediately. Even as a 6-year-old, he was confused as to what was happening and was still afraid that he would get in trouble if he said anything even though CPS was there to presumably help. His stay in his first foster family lasted five months. Then, Haines thought there was some hope when his second foster family wanted to adopt him. Cruelly, fate was unkind and they weren’t able to adopt due to an unfortunate coincidence of their biological son sharing the same name as Haines. Even so, he stayed for about a year and a half, during which time he was happy and comfortable. Sadly, he was sent to another foster family where he stayed for another year and a half and then was moved again to a third possible adoptive family in Nebraska. Finally, on July 15, 1981, Monte Haines was officially adopted. Relief at finding a perfect lasting home did not stay long. By this time, Haines was about 10. It was five or six months after his adoption that his adopted brother (A-brother), who was going to college and also an adoptee, got kicked out of the house by his adoptive father (A-dad). It was later revealed that his A-brother was being abused by their A-dad. Once his A-brother moved out, Haines’s A-dad moved on to him with the physical, sexual, and mental abuse. For seven years, he endured being beaten. He recalls getting hit over the head with a board and having his head slammed against a concrete wall when he went to help out at the family restaurant. This led to a hospital visit for a concussion where he would go in and out of consciousness. The situation continued until 1988 when his parents divorced. At that time, despite having the chance to live with his adoptive mom (A-mom), Haines chose to stay with his A-dad out of fear that he would get worse treatment if he wasn’t living with him. Unfortunately, “I made the wrong choice," as it was even worse when he and his A-dad were on their own. Some days he couldn’t walk because his A-dad would break his toe or put out cigarettes on his feet. Haines showed us the scars on his arm from being cut open by twigs with thorns that his A-dad would rake across his flesh. Haines escaped from the abuse when, one day, the police came to the school to tell him that his A-dad had been arrested for child abuse. He was sent on a plane to his A-mom’s, but even though he still loved her, he blamed her for being taken away from his A-dad. So, he rebelled until he realized that the reason his A-dad had been arrested was for abusing him. Once he learned the truth, he apologized to his A-mom. Despite all that was going on at home, Haines continued going to school and channeled his energy toward his studies, which resulted in him graduating early and starting college ahead of his peers. However, around the time of the first Gulf War, he decided to drop out of college and join the military instead. He said that he was moved to fight for his country. Haines went to basic and advanced individual training (AIT), where he gave it his all and did well. However, he soon regretted his decision to drop out of college. Despite his success in his training, Haines faced racial discrimination and bullying once he entered his unit. He was the only one getting hazed, pushed around, and spoken to with anti-Asian racial slurs. Although he believed that those in the military were supposed to be equals and not see color, he was never included in social activities because he “didn’t look like them [the others].” Haines never said anything about the racism and bullying since it was something he had faced from a young age. Instead, he endured the military conditions for three and a half years all the while wondering why it was happening to him. Still, he did his tours in Kuwait for his country believing he was a U.S. citizen—after all, he had a social security number, driver’s license, etc. The only thing he didn’t have was a passport since serving in the military meant he didn’t need one while he was on active duty. After getting out of the military in 1996, Haines worked in security for a while. Eventually, he moved onto a truck driving job. It was through this job that his bad luck worsened and he found out that he wasn’t a U.S. citizen. According to Haines, he was going through a border control checkpoint on a truck driving job. Upon handing over his manifest and paperwork, the guards requested to open his truck. He refused, as was in accordance with company policy. The guards insisted, but he continued to state he needed permission. By the time he was able to get down from the truck, the border patrol had opened the truck and arrested him claiming they had found 1,750 lbs of weed in his truck. Caught completely off guard, as he had only picked up the truck from his company yard with no knowledge of what was in it, he didn’t know what to do. He went to county jail on a drug possession charge for the night. The next day, he went to court where he stated that the border patrol lied to the judge claiming that Haines had said it was okay to open up the truck. Despite his rebuttal, his public defender did not succeed in keeping him from being sent back to jail. After three or four days inside, immigration officers came to inform him that he wasn’t a U.S. citizen. He was confused as to how that could be since he had all the paperwork and had even served in the military, and they refused to accept any of it as proof of citizenship. After two months in county jail, Haines was then sent to federal penitentiary for three years to serve his drug possession conviction. Then, he was transferred to an immigration detention center. When asked how he felt at what seemed to be the lowest point of his life—even more so than surviving abuse in his homes—Haines replied that he was just asking himself over and over: “What did I do to deserve this?” “I didn’t even choose to come to this country, but still served and put my life on the line for it. I felt betrayed by everyone who was supposed to be supporting me.” Even still, this wasn’t the worst of it, Haines said. He was kept in an immigration detention center in Haskell, Texas while waiting for a court hearing with an immigration judge, and was told that if he left voluntarily, then he could return to the US in 10 to 15 years. He agreed to do so. However, unbeknownst to him, his A-brother had hired an immigration lawyer, which ultimately prevented him from taking the deal to leave voluntarily. Although his lawyer argued that he fell under the Child Citizenship Act of 2000 and should automatically be considered a U.S. citizen, the judge denied the claim. Regardless of any arguments presented to his right to be considered a U.S. citizen, the judge refused to accept his status and said “this is his [the judge’s] country and [Haines] didn’t belong there.” This made Haines question if he would ever find anyone to be on his side as everything and everyone so far was against him. Finally, in December 2005, he was released, but was required to check in every month with immigration to report on his progress in getting the necessary travel documents to return to Korea. When Haines went to the Korean consulate in Houston, he was told that they didn’t know who he was as he was not registered anywhere in the Korean system. In response, the U.S. Immigration Office told him that he either had to go to Korea or find another country to go to. Throughout everything, he continued working to earn money. He found a job in construction and continued checking in with immigration as he was figuring out what to do. Furthermore, all this time, Haines and his A-brother had kept in touch and talked openly about what had been going on with their abusive A-dad. One day, his A-brother decided to confront his A-dad about the abuse. Although Haines had offered to go with him, he went on his own, so Haines went to work the next day. Before he had a chance to talk to his A-brother, he got a call from his A-mom with the news that his A-brother had shot himself. His only ally in his life had killed himself. This was a crushing moment when Haines questioned if he was cursed, that bad of a person, or jinxed to have all these things happening to him. Again, he asked himself: “What did I do to deserve this?” He questioned what he did wrong and what he should do now that his closest and only ally in life was no longer there. Haines, left with PTSD and depression, isolated himself from everyone and everything. Finally, he pulled himself out of it by thinking about what his brother would have wanted. It was during his grieving period that he missed his monthly immigration call. As soon as he returned to work, ICE agents came to his workplace in full gear to get him. He thought that he was going to wind up killed as they told him that he was being charged with threatening an ICE agent when he asked them to leave him alone to deal with his brother’s death. On October 27-28, 2009, he was taken to the immigration office in handcuffs and put into the Dallas Ft. Worth County jail for a couple of days. Then, he was told he was being deported. Somehow, ICE was able to give him a temporary travel document to return to Korea. On November 4, 2009, Haines was escorted at gunpoint by five ICE agents to the airport check in and left dressed in only shorts and a t-shirt with USD 20 in his pocket, and the travel document they gave him. Upon landing in Korea, Haines again wondered if anything good was going to come to him. He couldn’t speak Korean and he didn’t know where to go. He hadn’t eaten anything other than “nasty” airline food for two days. He wandered aimlessly around Incheon airport for almost a week without eating or knowing what to do and having nowhere to turn. Somehow, Haines managed to get a ticket on a bus, but didn’t know where he was going or where he would end up. He got off the bus with no idea of where he was or what to do. In his shorts and t-shirt and travel document in early November in South Korea, he walked around, slept in a subway station, and finally bought a subway ticket to Yeouido. By this point he had depleted his USD 20 and did not have the means to eat nor a place to sleep. So, he found enough boxes to put on the ground and cover him. He rummaged through trash cans to eat and survived for three weeks sleeping under a bridge in the cold wearing only his shorts and t-shirt. After a while, Haines realized he could call collect to the U.S. and told his mom what had happened. She gave him a church contact. Somehow, he found the church and got his first reprieve. He recalls that he had water and steam coming off of him as he literally defrosted on the ondul (floor heating system). The contact gave him warm clothes, some money, and a temporary place to live in a missionary apartment. From there, he was able to open a bank account with his travel document and put the money she had given to him in it. Haines was also able to get a cell phone and started looking for a job despite not having a resume. Luckily, from that point forward, he has been able to work. First, he managed to get a job teaching English over the phone for about a year. He happily moved on to working in a restaurant in 2012 at a Korean-Mexican fusion restaurant with no resume needed. Later that year he was contacted to be interviewed by SBS, who had found out about him through someone at the church. His was the first that SBS had heard of such a story. Haines was a pioneer in raising awareness around deported Korean adoptees. During his interview with SBS, Haines said that he unloaded everything. He was able to unburden himself because someone was actually listening. Although he had held out hope for more help from this interview, even now, nearly 10 years later, in 2021, he is just surviving and trying to figure out how to make it with no help from the U.S. side, and little help from the Korean government. While he gets some help with his housing, he lost his restaurant job due to COVID-19, which has sent him again into a downward spiral of wondering if life is ever going to improve. His outlook at 50 is bleak. He shared that he lost his sense of humor years ago. His health is failing from PTSD and stress. He said that he has nearly given up a couple of times, but he continues living because he now finds strength in being able to spread the word about deported adoptees. Through it all, Haines’s strength and conviction to stay the course as a responsible and honorable human being shines through despite the adversity he has faced. When asked how someone could help him, he replied that he needs financial aid to help him pay his bills and eat. If he were able to get himself financially situated, Haines expressed that he would work to bring the struggle of deported adoptees and the reality of the lack of support from the States and their home countries to light. If you would like to financially help out Haines, you can contact him directly on Facebook or email. If you would like to learn more about the Adoptee Citizenship Act of 2021, you can follow Adoptees for Justice for how to take action.

Andy Burdin is a Renaissance man. He’s a Korean adoptee, graphic designer, and nationally registered EMT (though we didn’t have time to talk about that last one). His thoughtful creativity and playful personality jump out from everything he touches, from his website to the projects presented throughout. His Instagram is full of vivid images that highlight some of his biggest loves: the outdoors, design, his wife, and dog. Perusing his website, with projects ranging from "Honda Head2Head" to Marvel to a collaboration between Adidas and Ninja (one of his favorite projects), one might think design was a path he always knew he’d pursue. However, Andy stumbled into his career by chance. During high school, he discovered Photoshop, started learning from free online tutorials, and fell in love with this medium that allowed his creativity to bloom. When he got to Boise State University, he didn’t know what major to declare. All Andy knew was that he loved Photoshop, so he looked for a major to further develop that skill. That started his trajectory into graphic design. After a year at Boise State, he transferred to another small school in Idaho and studied print design, learning everything from book design to billboards. His love of movies drove the goal of creating a movie poster for a blockbuster film one day. Giving and receiving constructive feedback is essential as a creative. A film instructor told Andy that he was good, but he had to be even better if he wanted to work in the entertainment industry. He had to hone his skills technically, creatively, and artistically to achieve his goals. Andy entered several design contests in Idaho. Then, as chance would have it, an L.A. advertising company ran a key art competition for an "Iron Man" movie that he entered. While Andy didn’t win the competition, it was his first foray into working with professional photo assets, which confirmed that this was the path he wanted to explore. When Andy was about to graduate, a creative director discovered his work and asked him to join his team as a junior designer. He moved to L.A. and learned the ins and outs of professional production design in entertainment. Andy’s love of movies, video games, and design came together to shape his unexpected career. Throughout his 10 years as a designer, Andy has learned that one of the most challenging aspects of creative work is that it’s highly subjective. What one person likes won’t be the same as what someone else does. Humility and flexibility are key when balancing what a client wants while still injecting a personal touch. “It’s a different formula and playbook every single time,” he explained. I asked Andy if he ever ran into creative blocks and, if so, how he works through them. Without hesitation, he said: “Oh man, all the time. My best looks different every day.” Working through these blocks involves surrounding himself with people he respects who can give honest, constructive feedback. While the work is extremely challenging, it’s equally rewarding. Collaborating with incredible creatives on projects he really likes keeps him excited and continuously growing. One of the best parts is when his hard work pays off, and his clients are happy with his design. “I’m very, very grateful for the opportunities I’ve been able to have a hand in,” Andy shared. Another area of Andy’s life that has proven to be both challenging and rewarding is delving into his Korean adoptee identity. He was born in Seoul, and adopted by a white American family when he was around 6 months old. He has an older sister he’s close with, who was also adopted from Korea. They grew up in Washington state. His family moved to Idaho when he was 13. Like many adoptees, Andy and his sister didn’t have much contact with other Asians growing up. Their parents were supportive and encouraged them to do whatever they felt they needed to do, whether that was celebrate Korean holidays, explore Korean culture, or initiate a birth family search. But as kids, they didn’t have much interest. “When you’re kids, you don’t realize the dynamic of looking different from your parents. It’s easy to forget how you look when you’re surrounded by all white,” he shared. Andy went on to explain how as kids, it was clearer that their parents were their parents; people could figure it out. As adults, that changed. When he was at lunch with his mom, the server asked them if they wanted separate checks because she thought they were separate parties. His mom was confused because to her, it was obvious—Andy's her son. Situations like those have led them to have conversations about the ways others perceive the difference in appearance and how it affects how he and his sister are treated in America. Another situation that magnified how he stands out happened in college. The resident assistant (RA) in his dorm had seen Andy with his parents at the beginning of his freshman year. At the end of the year, she asked him if he was adopted. When he told her he was, she got excited and said, “Oh my gosh! A real-life adoptee!” and told him her family was considering adopting a baby from China. “It was kinda jarring because I was like, I’m not a zoo animal, I’m a person.” While he knows she wasn’t trying to be offensive, it distinctly showed that others see him as different. The rise in anti-Asian racism accelerated his exploration of Korean culture. He realized that, culturally, he’s the same as all his white friends, but how he looks puts him in another category in many minds. He experiences the same racism as other Asian Americans, but without the cultural upbringing. “I can’t culturally identify with first/second-generation Asian American culture, but I receive all of the same negative stereotypes. It wasn’t until I started to process that in the past year that I realized I should have every right to be proud that I’m Korean American. It’s not something I should have to hide. At this point in my life, I feel proud not only that I’m a Korean American but that I was adopted, and that in itself adds a huge dynamic.” He continued: “Sometimes it’s easier to assimilate with what’s around you. When I was younger, I felt like I was rocking the boat or trying to stand out as a Korean American. Frankly, I had little to no knowledge of Korean culture at the time. I didn’t have a pedestal to stand on to be proud of being a Korean American because I didn’t have the cultural upbringing. It was easier to just assimilate into white American culture and ignore that. Now, as an adult, I have a sense of pride. I’m Korean American. I’m an adoptee. And there are others out there like me that I can reach out to, and we all have shared experiences.” Diving into Korean culture has helped him learn to be willing to take risks, be wrong, and not feel a sense of shame as he learns. “I’m okay struggling through this. It’s easy to get discouraged investigating these parts of a culture we’re a part of and getting judgement from Koreans and non-Koreans alike for not knowing what it looks like we should know. I think that’s why I avoided Korean culture before.” While finding a sense of pride as he learns, he also admits that it can get emotionally draining trying to understand unfamiliar customs and traditions and stumbling over communicating in a language he doesn’t know. He also invests a lot of himself when he introduces people to Korean food because he feels it’s a reflection of him if they do or do not enjoy it. “To experience Korean culture through food may be one of the only entry points a lot of people have to Korean culture. For me, there’s a weight of hoping they enjoy it,” Andy stated. On the flip side, it’s incredibly rewarding when people do enjoy it. He said: “You always have a good time introducing people to something you love and seeing them enjoy it as well,” with the understanding that sometimes, it doesn’t matter how great it is. Some will not like it anyway. Recently, Andy initiated a birth search. So far, he has very little information, and like so many adoptee records, the information may not be accurate. “It’s easy to watch documentaries of adoptees finding their families and think, ‘that’s the benchmark for success.’” He likened this process to the California Gold Rush when people invested huge amounts of time, money, and resources to go dig for gold. Along the way, they’d hear stories ranging from it being a major success to it was a massive waste of time. As his story unfolds, he’s working to maintain a balanced perspective as he hears other search stories. As we wrapped up, I asked Andy what advice he has for other adoptees. He empathetically said: “Be kind to yourself. I think it’s easy to look at pictures of gold: you’ll find your birth family and be reconnected, and it’s this big family reunion. That’s a lot of people’s pictures of gold. To me, I look at it more like that picture’s a little bit blurry, and it looks different to every person. Whatever that looks like to you, is right for you. There is no right or wrong answer. How you feel about processing these things, how you unpack it, how you go about it, how much you share or don’t share is completely up to you and completely right. There’s no right or wrong way to feel emotionally about this, despite whatever social media and documentaries may show you. Don’t let anybody else’s successes or failures change how you personally feel. It’s an easy thing to verbalize, but it’s difficult for a lot of people, including myself, to put into action and weave into your picture of emotional and mental health. Be kind to yourself. Be forgiving and understand that this is a difficult, nuanced subject to talk through and process. There’s no right or wrong way to feel about it.” Connect with Andy and explore his work on Instagram and his website.

The Universal Asian had the wonderful opportunity to chat with Senior Foreign Services Officer for the United States State Department, Robert Ogburn. While there were several different areas that could have been shared due to Ogburn’s varied experiences, both personally and professionally, we are honored to be able to start the conversation with him here. Robert sits casually in his chair with pen and paper in hand. Throughout the interview, he jots down notes or thoughts for reference later. Ogburn speaks in a thoughtful, calm, and compassionate way as we traverse through various topics related to his background and life. Although he humbly appreciates being described as a visionary, we find just how apropos this assignation is to Robert’s character and inclinations which guided his childhood interactions into his seemingly perfectly-suited career path. Robert Ogburn was 2 years old when he was “picked out from a set of pictures” of children available for adoption by a U.S. military couple stationed in Okinawa, Japan who wanted to start a family. A couple of months after adopting Robert, the family moved to northern New Jersey, USA where he had his first taste of public attention when he was highlighted in the Trenton newspaper as a newly naturalized and adopted child from Asia, specifically Korea. Upon recalling his early childhood memories, he shares that before he was old enough to go to school, he used to be outside and the school children across the street would often come over to talk to him during their lunch break. It wasn’t until he was an adult that he realized that this might have been odd, and the reason they may have given him so much attention was because they had never seen, nor interacted, with someone from such a different background given the limited exposure to minority groups in the area he lived. His awareness of other minority groups came when he and his family moved to Maryland where he lived from age 9 to 13. Ogburn made friends with those from all the different groups in the neighborhood, but realized they didn’t necessarily interact with each other much. This was amidst the riots of 1968 and the social/political activity that was happening not far away in Washington D.C. Still, growing up in the time of the moon landing, Ogburn felt a sense of optimism believing that “the sky’s the limit” despite the unrest that seemed to be around him. This positive attitude helped him to avoid potential trauma in dealing with identity development as a youth. In fact, he admitted to pretending that he knew kung fu as a way to combat any kind of bullying or tension with middle school–aged kids, who questioned his identity or belonging—as any kid that age might face. Further, he mischievously laughs at his use of the Asian stereotype to his favor to get through high school math and science classes so that he could focus on the subjects that interested him more. While Ogburn was not immune to being asked the inevitable "Where are you from?" question, he replies that by not having the vocabulary to answer the real question behind the words it didn’t really feel that it was much of an issue for him. Perhaps his high school being 60 percent white and 40 percent Black helped, as the students were encouraged not to develop biases—although they still tended to hang out with like for like—which afforded Ogburn the opportunity to mingle between the two groups and gain more awareness of the various issues each faced without any prejudice of his own. When the issue of being adopted arose in a family conversation when Robert was about 8 years old, he recalls his mother said, “Don’t worry about it—you’ll always be my son,” which he felt was handled well for him. In fact, Ogburn’s adoptive mom played an important role in how he viewed his adoption experience and how his life would go. Despite the fact that there were no programs or infrastructure available to help adopted children stay connected to their heritage, Ogburn’s mom put up a Korean flag up in his room and would remind him that it was the country in which he was born and suggested that perhaps someday he could go and visit there. She even encouraged him to possibly study at the University of Hawaii to be closer to his roots and experience the hybrid of Asian and American culture. Although he didn’t study there, it was an interesting thought that she put out there to direct his future and can probably be directly linked to his chosen career path. Still, it took a while for Robert to become aware of his own Asian-ness. One of his early memories of becoming aware of the fact that he was a person of color was when an African American man drew him into a conversation about the color of their skin and pointed out that Ogburn was also a person of color. At the time, he didn’t understand the significance or meaning of this, but later it became an important moment in his acknowledgement of being of a different race. Further, his first engagement with being Asian was in college when he began to interact with first generation Asian-Americans. One particular incident was when a comic strip was printed with two dogs as the speaking characters pointing to a Korean restaurant and saying that they couldn’t eat there because Koreans eat dog. Ogburn got picked to use his "white American" status to be the voice for the Korean American students, who were outraged by the comic, to reach out to the paper and explain why this wasn’t a culturally sensitive thing to print. This was his first proper diplomatic action in bringing together two sides to discuss an issue resulting in a positive outcome with a deepened understanding of new perspectives. He naively believed that that would be the last incident he’d face related to cultural and race issues—back in the early 1980s. Thanks to his background and family being involved in government positions, Ogburn was interested in studying International Studies, which was a rare, or mostly unheard of, area at the time. Fortunately, he was able to self-design his own path in Latin American and Asian studies through his tertiary and graduate education, respectively. Although Ogburn initially did other jobs, his entrance into the foreign service was an ideal fit as it matched his interest in being involved in different areas and working with a variety of people. Ogburn’s first overseas experience was to Korea during the 1988 Olympics—making his mother’s foreshadowing come true. In reflecting on his adoption and further into his career in foreign services, Ogburn expresses his full appreciation for his freedom to “muck around” in finding one’s identity and how far one is allowed to dream without being told who or what one is. Despite having the challenges that can arise with the diversity of democratic societies, it affords us the chance to define who we are as individuals on our own terms through our own experiences, Ogburn reflects. Still, he believes that it requires a bit of a sense of humor to maneuver through some typical experiences where one’s face may not meet expectations. In response to the anti-Asian hate movement alongside Black Lives Matter, Ogburn states that he thinks this sentiment has always been there and was severely under-reported before. The sense that Asians are the model minority or naturally successful and that our experiences haven’t been impacted is starting to come to light as not necessarily true. Robert suggests that if people start to practice open-mindedness, then they can find that teams, businesses, and organizations can be stronger and more positively impacted just by having a variety of skills and viewpoints. Upon reflecting on adoption, in general, Ogburn feels that it has been an immensely positive experience during his time. It can also be an interesting opportunity to learn what it means to be “Korean” (or any native Asian heritage) for both an adoptee and those in the native country who interact with adoptees or #hyphenatedAsians. Wearing his foreign services hat, Ogburn reminds us that countries do indeed pursue national interests, but allies pursue issues in common as partners. “A willingness to challenge each other to do better is what makes lasting partnerships and most effective changes.” Ogburn believes that his being adopted and seeing the flag in his bedroom contributed greatly to his career path and perspective on the world. Although he fully acknowledges that there are many less than positive adoption experiences, for him, being adopted allowed for him and others to see beyond various challenges and deep-seated notions as individuals, as a society, and in the world. He further thinks that adoptees are a natural fit for considering public service and even international service, since their backgrounds and their imaginations stretch around the world. If the name Ogburn sounds familiar, The Universal Asian shared his daughter, Calista Ogburn's, book of poetry last August.

The Universal Asian got to know Linda Rounds, President of 325KAMRA—a non-profit organization dedicated to helping Korean adoptees reconnect with their birth families. Tell us a bit about your background! I am a Korean adoptee born in Nopae-dong near Paju in South Korea. I was raised by a mixed-race Korean couple in Itaewon (Seoul) until I was nine. My family moved to San Diego in 1973. I moved to Texas in 2013. I did not find out I was adopted until I was 28 years old. It was quite a shock. I have a B.S. in Business Management from Pepperdine University and a certificate in Human Resources Management from Phoenix University. My professional responsibilities include finance/accounting, legal/compliance, human resources management, recruiting, real estate investing, and property management. I have three adult children; one is married, so I now have a 1-year-old granddaughter. I also have a German Shepherd. As my children got older and started driving and hanging out more with their friends, I began volunteering my free time to my community and several non-profits. I actually currently hold board positions for three non-profits. I believe in giving back and paying it forward, as I am very grateful for all I have and my experiences in my life. What was the inspiration behind 325KAMRA? The founders of the organization were mixed-race Korean adoptees. They found paternal birth family members via DNA testing and came up with the idea of DNA testing birth families in Korea. In the beginning, 325KAMRA was an acronym for Korean American Mixed Race Adoptees (KAMRA) to represent who the group of founders were. The number “325” was the hotel room number where their meeting took place while attending a weekend conference in San Francisco. Over time, the dynamics of our organization changed, and we also realized that our acronym was not inclusive to the community we serve. So we updated our name. While our acronym remains the same, we decided that the following better represents who we are and what we do: Korean Adoptees Making Reunions Attainable. How does the DNA testing work? We provide free kits (after vetting) from FTDNA, which has one of the largest databases of people from around the world. These are autosomal tests, so they can provide a range of close to distant relative matches. The DNA tests available in Korea are processed differently. For example, the ones that the Korean Embassy distributes for the Korean National Police Agency is, simply put, more like a paternity test, a one-to-one test. Those will match you to a specific parent or sibling. Half siblings typically do not match. Neither can cousins or grandparents match. DNA tests are administered by either a cheek swab or saliva collection into a small tube. Then, it is shipped off to the DNA company lab, and results are usually available within six weeks. With autosomal tests, shared segments of DNA are measured by centimorgans (cMs). When there is a match of 200 cMs (typically second cousin range) or more, our birth search angels (volunteer genealogists) get to work. Their knowledge and research skills help us narrow down who potential close family members are if there isn’t an immediate family match. We also end a birth search case with DNA testing to confirm the family relation. If you’re willing to share, what was your experience like searching for and reconnecting with some of your birth family members? It took over two years for the search angels to find my birth father. Sometimes it can take a while; so we say it is a journey and patience is needed. Actually, he and his immediate family had not been DNA tested. It was a cousin just under 200 cMs who was a DNA match to me, which is why it took time for research from the search angels. I had just about given up on finding him when I got a phone call late one night that there were two brothers where one might be my father. It took about another week or so to get in contact with one of the brothers. He admitted by phone that he had a baby girl in Korea in 1964. We were connected by phone later that evening. It was so surreal. I told him that I could not get emotionally invested until he took a DNA test to confirm that he was my father. He agreed. Being the patient person that I am (lol), I flew to his house the following day with a DNA kit. We spent a couple of hours chit-chatting and having dinner. He showed me a stack of old photos from his service in Korea, with a young Korean woman. He also showed me many pictures of the Korean woman with a baby that she’d mailed to him after his tour ended and he returned stateside. One of those pictures was the only baby picture that I had ever seen and had in my possession. It was the same picture of a 2-month-old baby. For us, that was plenty of confirmation he was my father. And, of course, the DNA test that was processed also confirmed it as well. My dad’s wife had always known about me. As did his best friend, his brother, and his daughters so I wasn’t too much of a surprise to them. They have been so warm and welcoming. We have a great relationship. We visit a few times a year and it’s always so much fun. I will always spend Father’s Day with my dad (except when COVID-19 prevented us last year). What advice would you give to someone who is on the fence about searching for their birth family? It is all such a personal choice. I didn’t start searching until both my adoptive parents passed in 2015. I actually didn’t think it’d be possible to find any birth family since they never gave me any adoption paperwork or information about my early life. They had always intended to keep my adoption a secret and so I never wished to make them feel badly about me searching or being curious. I started out just curious about my ethnicity and heritage. And then when I had a third cousin match, plus other distant relative matches, the birth family searching bug bit me. It was amazing to see blood relatives on paper (website)! Sometimes, an adoptee feels that they don’t want to be rejected a second time, as many have adoption paperwork which says that the baby/child was abandoned. We have found that adoption paperwork is not always accurate and that “being abandoned” was used more frequently than it actually happened. We have also made birth family connections where it’s the adoptee who chooses not to pursue meeting or having a reunion with the family. So, it’s just all a personal choice. But, I think we start wondering about our birth family when we start to have families of our own. Or, if we have a medical condition because we have no family medical history. DNA testing does not require travel or money. My advice would be to DNA test. Once the results are in, then they can decide whether to pursue finding family or not. However, another point about DNA testing is that your matches may actually help another adoptee who is searching to find family! We have had that happen. That’s why I say we are all in this together. How has the pandemic affected the way 325KAMRA operates? At the beginning of the pandemic, we weren’t sure what would happen. We felt that things would slow down. And it did for in-person events we had for DNA testing. However, we actually had an increase in requests for DNA kits by mail! We also got very busy doing research and matching family members. It felt like we were averaging birth family introductions and reunions every 3 – 4 weeks. These were handled by KakoTalk or Zoom. What would you like to see in 325KAMRA’s future? I would love to see every Korean adoptee learn and know about their true family heritage/background whether they wish to reunite with family or not. I think that’s something that every person has a right to. For instance, medical history becomes important when an adoptee begins having medical issues. I would love to see every Korean family searching for a lost family member be reunited. Many who were lost were taken to orphanages and adopted to the US or Europe. So, what I see in our future is a more concerted effort to distribute 240,000 – 500,000 more DNA tests. It is estimated that there are up to 250,000 Korean adoptees. We are only working with close to 7,000 testers to date. That’s only a drop in the bucket for how many adoptees and families we are currently helping. We need donations to help us achieve that goal. We have no paid staff at this time, so donations go directly to purchasing more DNA kits. While we have a major donor who has made it possible for us to purchase our kits thus far, more corporate sponsorships and government grants would be wonderful. What advice would you give your younger self? There was a perfectly good reason why I didn’t look at all like my parents! I did not resemble them in looks or personality at all. I am very similar in personality to my birth dad. Anyhow, I’ve always felt like something was missing. “Missing” isn’t even accurately describing it. Longing? Acceptance? Whatever it is, I’m sure it has to do with being separated from my birth mom as a toddler. So my advice to my younger self would be: “Don’t try so hard to be the good girl, the smart girl or the pretty girl, or to be perfect. You are perfect just the way you are and you are loved.”

Life is not what you alone make it. Life is the input of everyone who touched your life and every experience that entered it. We are all part of one another. — Yuri Kochiyama Before talking to Nick, I heard his name from his podcast cohost, Jon Oaks. The way Jon described Nick and their friendship made me want to find out more about the other half of this dynamic, community-building duo. Nick’s easygoing and compassionate personality stood out immediately. As we dove into his life and what drives his desire to support adoptees in their journey, I could see why people are drawn to him. Like many adoptees, Nick’s exact history is hazy. He was told he was born in the Gyeongsang Province (he generally says Busan since that’s more well known). Immediately after birth, he was swept up into the system and adopted by a family in New York when he was a few months old. Growing up in a white family and predominantly white area, he didn’t have any Asian role models. He learned how to be a social chameleon to fit into the unspoken expectations. In 2017, he wanted to find out more about his birth family. At that time, he wasn’t as connected to the adoptee community as he is now, so he had no idea how vast it is or what kind of support existed for his journey. “You could’ve told me there were five million of us or 1,500. I would’ve believed either.” Nick initiated his search through his adoption agency. Unsurprisingly, the search didn’t yield much. The adoption agency said his birth father passed away a couple of months before Nick was born and that he had a few older siblings. None of the information is complete or verified: “It could all be right, it could all be wrong, or it could be somewhere in between.” He sat on the newly discovered information for about two years and decided that if that’s all he would be able to find out, he was ok with it. Around that same time, he got the itch to explore his Asian/Korean/adoptee identity further. He expressed this to a few close confidants. That led him into the adoptee community, which eventually led him to meet his now close friend, Jon. “What Jon told you about how we met in his interview was spot on,” Nick said. He went on to give a glowing review of Jon’s character and courage, stating that due to Jon’s influence, he mustered the courage to explore his own identity and take pride in his story and background. “Jon never pressured me to tell my story. He deserves a lot of the credit. He’s so unashamed and proud of his story and background. Having an influence like that encouraged me to be open about my own story. You can positively impact those communities (Asian American and adopted) when you’re so comfortable with being a part of them. Jon really lives that. Seeing that helped me get over the precipice to be more public about my own story.” Over time, Nick got more involved with the adoptee community. He’s made incredible progress with overcoming his fear of exploring his identity. “I was afraid, because it was something I subconsciously, sometimes consciously, avoided most of my life. I could look in a mirror and know I didn’t look like my family or most of my network. On the outside, I never showed I knew there was a difference. But how I interacted with the world was different from my adoptive siblings and others around, who were primarily not Asian. It was an emotional soft spot I didn’t want to reveal. There’s the expectation to be a man and not show emotional vulnerability, so I avoided that as much as possible. A few adoptee friends recommended I go on "The Janchi Show" to talk about my story. I was terrified to do the podcast and put it out there. You can’t hide things on the Internet, and I knew my family would eventually come across it. I wondered, ‘Can I do this? Should I do this? Do I want to do this?’ I finally came to grips that I’m ok with what I know about myself, so I needed others to be ok with it too.” Revealing this part of himself to his family was one of the hardest parts of the journey so far. After his appearance on "The Janchi Show," Nick posted the podcast link on his social media, knowing his family would eventually find and listen to it. Terrified of their reaction, he avoided their messages for a week until he gathered the courage to open them all. Thankfully, his fear was for naught. There were no negative reactions or misinterpretations. His family, especially his dad, surpassed the expectations he didn’t have. An unexpected benefit was that "The Janchi Show" plugged him into the adoptee community on a whole new level. He started meeting adoptees from around the country. “Hearing other adoptees’ stories has so many positive impacts: it helps bring more awareness to issues and addresses misconceptions about adoption and what adoptees experience. It’s very rewarding.” I asked him what he does when the journey becomes too overwhelming or if he starts judging his journey against someone else’s. He noted the importance of tapping into the adoptee community. “There’s always someone in a similar position in their process. Running the situation by them doesn’t necessarily give clarity or an answer, but it provides the reassurance that as long as I’m ok with where I’m at, it’s ok. It doesn’t have to match what anyone else is doing or has done.” Nick takes pride in supporting others the way Jon supported him. “Any time I can help someone be more comfortable exploring their own story and past, I feel incredibly accomplished.” Since he’s become invested in the adoptee community, he’s felt more pride in his Asian identity. “I didn’t used to pay much attention to the advancements of Asians in society, but now that matters to me. I enjoy watching Asians, Asian Americans, and adoptees get elevated for their accomplishments. What matters to me has evolved.” Wrapping up our time together, Nick offered a little advice for adoptees: “It’s never too late to start your journey. I was over 30 when I started. There’s no line of when to begin or end. There are a lot of ‘I don’t knows’ throughout  the search, so you’ve gotta go into it with a certain level of acceptance for uncertainty.” He added: "Don’t feel as though you have to follow suit with whatever societal stereotypes there are of Asians. We’re good and bad at different things because of the environments we’ve been in and our efforts, not because of our race.” I asked him what support looks like on his journey, and he shared, “Therapy gets slung around a lot. One thing I didn’t recognize for a long time is the misconception that therapy is only going to a therapist. It’s not. Therapy can be whatever is therapeutic for you as an individual. That can include hearing other adoptees’ stories, successes, struggles, and what they do to navigate them. Each person needs to figure out for themselves, ‘What help do I need and how do I get that?’ The form it can come in is about as varied as we are as individuals.” During this interview, Nick demonstrated how community is built: through authentic, open conversations, where vulnerability is a strength and path forward. Connect with Nick on Instagram, Facebook, and his podcast, Funny Is Part of My Name.

“The only way to survive is by taking care of one another.” — Grace Lee Boggs As I waited for Jon to log on for our interview, I perused his website to get more familiar with him and his work. What struck me most was his clear desire to create inclusive environments, from his classroom to adoptee spaces, so that everyone who comes in contact with him can find a sense of belonging. Before getting lost in thought, Jon appeared on my screen. His kind authenticity made starting the conversation effortless. Jon is a man of many talents: he’s the Korean American Adoptee Adoptive Family Network (KAAN) webmaster, an award-winning math professor, a podcast host, and a community-builder extraordinaire. But, life wasn’t always as full of community for him as it is now. At around 3 months old, Jon was adopted from Korea by a white couple in a rural area of Michigan outside Flint. When he was around 5, his parents moved into the city so he would have access to a better school system. Jon reflected on how blessed he was to have gone to a school where he could take language courses, which helped him better understand the world around him. Growing up as an adoptee, he felt a disconnect with his adoptive parents because they didn’t understand his attachment issues from being torn away from his birth parents and culture. It was a struggle growing up without any Korean or Asian influence. Reminiscing about going to a Korean summer camp when he was a child, he asked his parents why he never returned. They said it was because he didn’t like it (though he doesn’t remember that). He wishes they would have understood the significance of having his identity reflected back to him and encouraged him to try again. He delved into describing what felt like such a familiar situation. In high school, he knew two other Asians, one who was also an adoptee from Korea. Though, they never connected about it. Jon mentioned that he tended to avoid situations where he might be singled out as different when he was younger. He’s come a long way from where he was to where he is today. One of Jon’s first epiphanies happened on his 13th birthday. He painted the scene: his trusting parents provided food, told him he could have a party with his friends, and left for the evening. Arriving home, they found him curled up, crying in their bed—no one showed up. He recognizes that perhaps some parents weren’t comfortable with an unsupervised party. But as a child, it was difficult having “friends” say they’d show up, then not. That’s when he realized he didn’t belong to a community. “You can choose your friends, but not your family.” From then on, Jon knew he wanted to do something that would allow him to form the community he didn’t have and help people build friendships, connections, and networks. I asked Jon what inspired his career in math. Without hesitation, he began telling me about when he was in kindergarten. Jon is colorblind. So, when his class was doing coloring lessons, he would peek over at the first graders’ math lessons. He believes that gave him a head start, finding what he could do in the midst of what he couldn’t. Additionally, the 1980s movie "Stand and Deliver" inspired him. He saw how Jamie Escalante’s dedication to his students not only brought out the best in them but also created a tight-knit community. He showed them they can achieve more than what their environment told them. “Once you’re out of where you are, you can come back to give to your community,” Jon said. He explained that’s why he wanted to teach in an urban environment. Diving into his dream career as a math professor, Jon began cultivating the community he had always dreamed of. Jon’s compassion for his students extends well beyond the classroom walls. He discussed how teaching is so much more than conveying material. The most successful teachers invest in their students’ lives and stories because it also influences their classroom work. He wants his students to know they don’t have to choose between their lives and education. When they struggle, he does everything he can to show the support he wishes he would’ve had growing up—from helping them find language learning resources to offering his own space heaters when the heat is out in their homes. “If a student comes in feeling like they don’t belong anywhere, I don’t want them to leave feeling that same way. The phrase ‘there’s strength in numbers’ is quite real.” Jon’s colleague, Bill (who had a Korean adoptee roommate), often asked him if he wanted to go to the Korean barbeque his roommate hosted. Jon always declined, but when Bill retired, he finally agreed to go as a retirement gift. That opened the door for him, and he got connected with the Michigan Korean Adoptees (MIKA) group. From there, he made more connections with other adoptees in the area. One night, he went out for drinks with a friend and woke up the next morning to a text that said, “Are you excited about your trip to Korea?” Puzzled, Jon thought, “What trip to Korea?” His memories are hazy on when and how the trip got booked. He felt a bit anxious since it would be his first international trip and the first return to his birthplace, but he decided he couldn’t back out. He determined that he wanted to see the orphanage he stayed in and compare the records there against the ones he already had. Jon began the arduous process of requesting a visit to the adoption agency. He learned that he needed to initiate a birth family search even just to visit. One day on the subway in Korea, Jon received a call from Holt saying they made contact with his birth mother. They said they would fill him in more the following day when he visited. He broke down on the crowded subway, trying to conceal his emotion. “It was a surreal experience. I wasn’t expecting them to find any birth family, especially not quickly or while I was in Korea. At best, I thought I’d find out months later.” The next day at Holt, Jon learned that his birth father refused to respond and didn’t want any contact. His birth mother wrote a letter saying she didn’t want contact because she was married now (she wasn’t married when Jon was born). He also learned that he had a half-brother. In a quick turn of events, his birth mother called Holt before he arrived, saying she had changed her mind about not wanting contact. He could contact her, but she couldn’t guarantee she’d respond. Her husband didn’t know about him, nor did his Japanese grandfather, whom she was the most afraid of telling. Frustrated, he struggles with not being able to meet his mother and half-brother, largely because of his grandfather. Jon’s first visit to Korea gave him a deeper connection to his birth country and opened the door to find his birth mother. One day, he wants to get dual citizenship to spend more time in Korea. He hopes he can further explore the culture and convince his mother to meet him. Currently, Jon teaches in the U.S., spends time with the adoptee community, and hosts a podcast called "Funny Is Part of My Name" with his good friend, Nick Ha. Jon and Nick met through a mutual friend, went to a Red Wings game together, and the rest is history. Some of that history involves a Saturday evening of Korean barbeque, a good bit of soju, and a casual mention from Nick about a podcast. Jon being a go-getter (especially after a few drinks), said, “We can start a podcast Monday at 10 p.m.” Waking up the next day, Jon thought, “Oh no, I told Nick we could do a podcast. I better come up with something.” The podcast name was inspired by Nick’s family name, “Ha.” They build their topics around math, current events, jokes, trivia, and guest appearances with the hopes of building a community that can feel a little less alone as they tune in on Monday nights. Building community is woven throughout everything Jon does. In addition to his other activities, he’s also the KAAN webmaster. He volunteered for that role as another way to be involved with the adoptee community, honing his skills to further support a community he loves. I asked Jon for a final piece of wisdom for adoptees who might be struggling and feeling alone. He said: “No matter how hard things are, give yourself the right to self-care. It’s so important. For many years, I felt like I had to just work, so I neglected things in my personal life. I missed opportunities to make connections. At some point, I realized these connections matter. Surround yourself with people you like, take care of yourself, and remember the work will be there later.” He added, “Remember, you’re only alone to the extent that you lock the things and people out who want to be in your life. Be open to new experiences and people.” Learn more and stay connected with Jon on his website, Instagram, and podcast, "Funny Is Part of My Name."

As the screen flickers, Mila appears in front of me. Her dark hair is pulled up in a sleek side-parted bun. Her long turquoise chandelier earrings graze the pink collar of her white '80s style Power Ranger t-shirt. I’ve known of The Empress Han, on Instagram, for some time now. But, this is the first time I’m having a conversation with the person whose work and message metaphorically slapped me out of my white savior-glorifying, self-diminishing, adopted puppy coma. So, when I see her face blink onto the screen in front of me, with a smile that’s warm with a hint of mischief, I know it’s going to be a great first interview. Her slender hands tell a story of their own as she passionately explains how compelled she felt to speak up as an Asian-American after the Atlanta shootings. Living only seven miles from one of the targeted salons, it literally hit too close to home for Mila, and she began sharing her story and being featured on media outlets such as CNN, National Geographic, and the LA Times. As a Korean adoptee, she recognizes the shared experience of racism between herself and a community that has become so racially targeted. Because adoptees are so under-represented, she was encouraged by her dear friend, Kavi Vu, to share a narrative that’s valid and vital in order to expand what it means to be an Asian American Pacific Islander (AAPI). Mila is among the many adoptees who have struggled to find belonging throughout her life. She became more involved in activism in the hopes to also explore her Asian-ness. But, Asian adoptees trying to speak up against the hate have sometimes been met with rejection by some members of the Asian community due to the duality of being an Asian person living in a predominately white environment and growing up around people who constantly isolate us in our Asian-ness. Yet, we are also somehow not “Asian enough” to be considered part of the Asian community by some. Mila has clearly risen above all of this as she explains that she realizes she can’t “become” Asian. “The world simply needs to expand what it means to be Asian. And,” she continues, “while adoptees will never have the context of Asians who grew up in an Asian home knowing about their food, traditions, and culture, I can define what being Asian means and what that looks like.” Using her platform on social media, Mila expresses herself creatively as a form of self-therapy. Lately, she’s been performing in a series of TikTok videos as a way to regain some of her power back. Many Asians can relate to the dismissive and gaslighting comments she uses in her videos titled, “If I spoke to white people the way white people speak to me.” Through recreating micro-aggressive moments experienced, this is her way to push back against aggressors that she wasn’t able to find a retort for in the moment they occurred. These light-hearted videos pack a punch! Not only are they extremely comical, but the raw, in-your-face message is relatable by so many on a variety of levels. In other words, it’s funny because it is true. Mila believes in the value of finding ways to express yourself as a way to feel seen. However, I have to confess that I feel like she’s perfected using humor as a tool for insight and education. “Comedy is rooted in pain,” Mila shrugs. She goes on to explain that her art saved her life. Being a lifelong sufferer of emotional and mental health symptoms, she said that she found a home in the concept of Han. The Empress Han is the title Mila goes by creatively and within the online community. In Korean culture, the concept of Han is explained as an emotion that is a form of resentment, grief, and hatred. As Korean adoptees, often our identities are diminished and erased, leading to traumatic difficulties in finding where we fit in the world. Mila boldly states, “We’re tired of being told how we’re supposed to feel, and how we’re supposed to think, and how we’re supposed to frame our adoption story. I’m sovereign over my story. Over my pain. Over my trauma. I get to decide what it means to me. How I’m going to process it. How I’m going to live through it. How I’m going to embrace it.” She is trying to find meaning and empowerment through her experiences and gives gratitude to Han for helping her realize she doesn’t need to be ashamed of her sadness. One of the most important things to know about Mila is that she is magical when it comes to expressing herself. Her most recent accomplishment is the release of her musical poetry album, Shrine. It’s the first installment of her three-piece collection. Mila explains that the idea of a shrine can represent a person or a history. And, her poems are her objects offered to honor her journey. But, she hopes that all other adoptees traveling their journey can see their reflection in pieces of her poetry in Shrine. Mila best expressed healing as being like the Japanese art of kintsugi: taking something broken and fusing the pieces back together with gold, making it more precious and honoring the broken parts. That’s an important message to process because everyone living—adoptee or not—has been broken whether in big or small ways. And the world has told many of us that it makes us imperfect and that makes us unacceptable. But, when we can find the strength to put ourselves back together, we should recognize and honor the fact that our value is greater after. That’s what I find so incredibly inspiring about Mila. She always finds a way to radiate positivity. Even when the trolls in her comments section are reporting her, her response is a simple: “I feel so affirmed.” In return, I smile, knowing the amount of strength she has in her that she continues to radiate to others, whether through her work or through simply being herself. She’s raw. She’s fearless. She’s unapologetically herself. She is The Empress Han! You can follow Mila Konomos as The Empress Han on Instagram, her website, and TikTok.

The Universal Asian got to know Makayla Gessford, an engineer as well as an admin of the Asian Adoptee Community on Clubhouse. Tell us about yourself. My name is Makayla Gessford. I’m currently living in Boston, Massachusetts, and by day I work as a process engineer in a biotech company. I work on products that serve patients with sickle cell disease. And then, my side projects—I do a lot of volunteering. Currently, I’m volunteering with Asian Hustle Network as a team member and moderator, and I also volunteer for an organization called Ascend, which is a pan-Asian professional life cycle development organization. A big piece of my identity, which I haven’t mentioned yet, is that I am an adoptee. I was born in China, and then adopted at the age of 2 to a single white mother who lives in Oregon. The other part of the volunteering I do is spending a lot of time in the adoptee community; holding space for people to talk and share and navigate what they may be going through with regards to their own experience. What was the inspiration behind the Asian Adoptee Community Clubhouse? So I got on Clubhouse back in early January, and I got on from [sic] Patrick Armstrong, who is a fellow adoptee who I met through Asian Hustle Network (AHN). I was actually interviewing him for something for AHN. So, we were both on Clubhouse and we both shared a feeling that there were a lot of AAPI-focused spaces and rooms, but we didn’t necessarily feel included in them. A lot of that is our personal feelings of acceptance in Asian spaces, but we also wanted to curate a space that was specifically for adoptees. We held a room back in January and invited all the people that we knew on Clubhouse who were adoptees to just come together and get to know each other and just talk. Then it turned into a little community there, and we decided to make a club so that people could have a consolidated location to come back (to) and have other people and other support when and if they needed it. I didn’t have any adult adoptee friends until quite recently, so there were all these things that I wanted to talk about that I just never had a place to, or people to talk to because I didn’t know they existed for a really long time. Through Clubhouse, I’ve found more of that community. In addition to the model minority myth, what are some stereotypes that harm Asian adoptees? Definitely the predominant adoption narrative. That’s something that I have been doing a lot of work to understand and learn more about myself, and just acknowledge that adoption really is an industry that is for profit. When you look at who created that industry, who has power within it, where our understanding of adoption comes from, and who’s telling the story, you start to realize that maybe there are all these facets that are missing. For example, one of the things that I grew up always telling myself because the people around me would say it, is “Oh, you’re so lucky to have been adopted,” “You were chosen,” and all this bullshit, honestly. People mean no harm by that, but it is coming from a very ignorant place because it feeds into this narrative that says adoptees are happy; they were saved. There’s a saviorism [sic] complex feeding into it that really diminishes the trauma, and doesn’t allow any space for grieving the loss that adoptees feel. That can create a lot of harm later. And it also, again, is just feeding an industry because you can’t have successful adoptions that make a profit for a company unless there’s this image of how successful and how happy and how wonderful adoptees are. No one talks about how adoptees are at higher risk of committing suicide and things like that because it’s not good for the industry. It also goes against adoptive parents, and their singular, narrow view that they’re doing a good thing by adopting. That’s not to say that they’re doing a bad thing, but I think that there needs to be more depth to the conversation. When you even say things like “the predominant adoption narrative,” people get confused. Well, what do you hear about adoption? You hear a single story of a poorer child in need of a home swept up and saved by some well-off white family—not always white—and suddenly they’re plopped in this home, and they’re then expected to forget who they were before, forget their culture, and then they’re expected to be well-adjusted. Like, look you have a loving family now, so everything is great, right? That’s so harmful, again, because it just doesn’t allow for any safe space for conversations that fall outside that box, and that’s what we need to be having. How do you deal with people who, knowingly or not, invalidate your pain as an adoptee? I really try to remember that ignorance is not something people should be blamed for, but instead it’s an opportunity to teach and inform. Of course, not everyone can nor should force themselves to do that all the time. But I think in moments when I feel I’m safe enough and I have the emotional and mental capacity to educate about why a statement or a comment is hurtful or harmful, I will take that opportunity to just share a little about what I know within the historical context of adoption practice, and also just share a little bit about my feelings and lived experiences growing up. I try to never make it an attack against the other person. It’s not their fault if they don’t know, but it becomes their fault if they’re given an opportunity to learn and blindly choose to reject it. What are some things you want potential adoptive parents and allies to know before adopting? I just wish they knew it’s a very complex issue, and that it’s rooted in a lot of trauma. I think there’s a lot of information and that the roots of adoption that are seated in very dark origins. For example, just with international adoption from China, we have the one child policy that occurred in the '90s. There were also things like the international adoption laws and domestic adoption laws, and very long-running cultural preferences that contributed to an environment of child abandonment and human trafficking. I think a lot of people don’t want to acknowledge that adoption is considered by many a form of modern-day child trafficking, and it just depends on the circumstances and who you talk to. I would just want people to know that it’s a very traumatic experience, and it’s not up to you to tell an adoptee how they should or could or will feel about being adopted. But it’s for you as the potential adoptive parent and friends and allies of the adoptee to just create a safe space for the adoptee to express what they may need to, regardless of if it goes against whatever your personal view of adoption is. Adoptees straddle the line between two worlds, which can be difficult. Sometimes, we lose touch with an entire culture. How can we reconcile the distance between our heritage and where we grew up? What advice do you have for adoptees who may be struggling with identity? First and foremost, it’s up to each adoptee how much they want to re-engage or how much they want to get involved in their birth culture. Because, definitely for myself, I wasn’t interested in it too much when I was younger, and I think if it had been forced upon me in some kind of way I would have rejected it. I do think if you’re curious and want to get involved and start learning, there are resources—starting by talking to other adoptees is a safer route. For example, I’ve experienced a lot of imposter syndrome in trying to engage directly with AAPI-specific community groups or spaces. A lot of that comes from a lack of confidence in my own self, so kind of a me-thing. I also think that, externally, being subjected to the model minority myth and not having any racial mirrors or anything growing up—not even knowing how to be Asian and then suddenly trying to later as an adult but not feeling genuine about it can be really tough. I get concerned it can discourage adoptees from leaning in more, because it discouraged me a little bit. I think just acknowledging that there’s no one-size-fits-all approach to anything, and that it’s really hard, but you have to tell yourself that you’re no less Asian or no less American because of your identity. Theses are pretty tumultuous times to be alive. How do you take care of your mental health? How do you practice self-care? I actually go to therapy. Therapy is a huge part of my self-care, and working with a therapist one-on-one virtually. It’s not quite the same as in the office, but I think if COVID has taught me anything, it’s that I can build just as deep and genuine relationships with people over virtual calls as I can in person. Sometimes it’s almost easier, in a way. It just depends on the person. So therapy’s a big one; also journaling. I’m pretty heavily a verbal processor, so for me, getting to spend time one-on-one or with a very small group of people that I really trust and just talking about our lives and what we’re going through is very healing for me. Also, spending time with my partner and being outside as much as possible. The weather is getting a lot nicer now, and any time we can do something outdoors, that really helps my mental health.

The Universal Asian got to know Kristen Meinzer, an award-winning podcaster, culture critic, royal watcher, and author. Named 2020 Woman of the Year by The Women’s Center in Washington D.C., Kristen Meinzer has also served as a panelist, consultant, and speaker at conferences, in classrooms, and for private companies. To learn more about her and her work visit her site here. Tell us about yourself, your childhood, and your experience of growing up. I’m a Korean adoptee, raised in Minnesota by white parents. My older sister is also adopted from Korea. My mom’s mom, whom we all called Nanna, was always the family member I was closest to. She lived a few blocks from us, and I spent a lot of time crashing at her apartment, going to movies with her, or just hanging out together. She was a resilient, kind, and funny gal. And like me and my sister, she was also orphaned at a young age—but unlike us, she was raised in the foster system, not adopted. What inspired and motivated you to start a podcast of your own? I’ve hosted ten podcasts over the past 12 years. The first was WNYC’s "Movie Date" (2010-2016), and I was pretty much assigned the hosting job, alongside the station’s film critic Rafer Guzman. We reviewed new movie releases, interviewed movie stars, and had an occasional segment called “movie therapy,” in which listeners would write in with their quandaries, and we would prescribe them movies and TV shows to help them feel better. When I left WNYC, the show ended and I went on to host "By The Book, When Meghan Met Harry," and other hit shows for other networks. But in March 2020, old "Movie Date" listeners started reaching out to me and Rafer asking if we would bring back just the “movie therapy” portion of our old show, since they were stuck at home because of the pandemic, and feeling more anxious and frustrated than ever, which is how we launched "Movie Therapy with Rafer & Kristen" in April 2020. It’s the first podcast I’ve hosted that’s all ours, not a network’s, and we wouldn’t have done it if it weren’t for our old, loyal listeners asking us to. Thank you, listeners! You have several award-winning podcasts up until now, and in a lot of ways you’ve been telling people to follow their dreams and passion and to never give up. I’m sure you went through challenging times yourself. Can you tell us about the inner challenges you faced and what helped you to stay motivated in the hard times? I’ve had loads of challenges in my podcasting career! For example, early on, some people wrote in and criticized my voice. They didn’t like my Minnesota accent. They hated that I laughed so much and was so animated. They thought I sounded unprofessional. And truth is, compared to other public radio podcast hosts, I did NOT sound like the norm. But, I didn’t know how to tone down my enthusiasm or change my accent. And when I talked to our digital producer about it, he insisted: “Please don’t change a thing. You sound exactly like yourself and that’s what makes you so fun to listen to.” I give the same advice to other podcasters all the time: Embrace what makes you uniquely you. There’s only one of you in the world, don’t deprive the world of your voice or your story. Your funny accent or quirky personality or unconventional upbringing might just make someone out there feel less alone and more seen. You’ve done a podcast about self-help books and if they really are effective. However, if you had to, which one book that you read during or outside the podcast would you say was the most impactful for you and why. On "By The Book," my friend Jolenta Greenberg and I live by the rules of a different self-help book in each episode, following the rules down to the letter for two weeks straight. Along the way, we record ourselves at home and in the world so that listeners can hear how each book enhances or destroys our lives. [Note: Jolenta went into this project wanting to believe the promises of self-help books]. As a culture critic, I went in as a big old skeptic. And so, full disclosure: there aren’t a lot of self-help books I’m fond of. But, I will say that I have enjoyed a few over the years, notably: "Dream More" by Dolly Parton (her optimism and work ethic are contagious); "How to Win Friends and Influence People" by Dale Carnegie (his advice to treat people like they matter never goes out of style); and the "Year of  Yes" by Shonda Rhimes (the book was more memoir than advice, but it was so much fun to hear her story of trying to embrace life for a year, in her own words). You’ve also spoken about various social issues like feminism and inequality. What is your belief system about equality and how do you think it can be achieved? We can’t just change hearts and minds if we want to change the world (though it’s absolutely important to aim for that, as well!). We also have to change systems. That means passing laws to protect the marginalized. It means public education that gives as much weight to the literature and history of women and people of color as it does to white men. It means college admission policies that eliminate favoritism for the wealthy and well-connected. It means employment hiring practices that look beyond “culture fit.” It means taxing those at the very top the same percentage that the rest of us must pay. What advice would you give to someone who wants to get into starting a podcast, or become a writer? Ask yourself two questions: 1) Why do you want to start a podcast/write a book? 2) Who is it for? If you know your “why,” and your “for whom,” you’ll have something to drive you, and someone to share it with when it’s done. During times like these, we all are facing a lot of issues emotionally and physically. What is your advice or message that you would like to share in order to be productive and healthy? No one is more of an expert on you, than you. So, I can’t tell you what will work best for you. But I can say this: Life is easier for most of us if we don’t go it alone. Over the years I’ve leaned heavily on friends and family. I’ve gotten support and advice from mentors. I’ve turned to mental health professionals. I’ve read books and watched movies to feel less alone and gain clarity on life’s challenges. Please, don’t go it alone. And, be grateful for those who want to help.

From her humble beginnings in Lincoln, Nebraska to Delaware Teacher of the Year, The Universal Asian spoke with Kimberly Stock, English learner teacher at McKean High School. We found out her reaction to receiving this prestigious award, what teaching means to her, and discovered what school was like for Kimberly growing up as a Korean-American adoptee in Nebraska. Congratulations on receiving Delaware Teacher of the Year 2021! Can you tell us what it was like to receive such an accolade? I’m going to be honest; every step along the way I’ve been surprised! I was not expecting it. But luckily, I had prepared two speeches; one speech in case I won, and just for luck I put it on top, then I had another speech just in case I lost. It was one of those things where I was really happy and surprised, and my family were watching too. So, to make my two teenage daughters proud is really a big deal! It’s just such an honour, but very unexpected. And how much did it mean to you to win? It meant a lot. I believe I’m the first Asian-American woman to win this award, but I don’t believe that there’s very many teachers of color who have ever won. So, to represent Asian teachers, of which there aren’t very many, was important and not something that I ever take lightly at all. In your winning speech you said, “You deserve to see yourself represented in what you learn and on the walls of where you learn.” How much does equal representation in the classroom matter to you? It matters. It’s everything. More recently, we’ve understood that we need to confront our complicit biases. It’s a really imperfect journey, but I think that it’s one that we need to continue on. With there being those from the other side who are very anti-this and -that, it just becomes another hurdle to getting to that fight to have representation in the classroom and to break down the structures of why it is that in education, or in society, where certain groups of people tend to have an easier time than others. I realize this is going to be an uphill battle, but I think that the more people we can get on our side, the better. What techniques do you implement to ensure that equal representation of all students (no matter their ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender identity, etc.) is met in the classroom? It’s intentional. So, the first things that we have are diversity committees both in terms of adults in the district and with students at school. From a curriculum standpoint, we look at the Social Justice Standards, which goes through four main components of identity, diversity, justice, and action. I love that they don’t just stop at looking at the issues of injustice, but that there is a component of asking ourselves as young members of society: “How can we actually go about this?” I learned a lot from my students. I’m really lucky that I work at a high school, because young people are constantly teaching us things. I strongly believe that as educators we have to lead the way in society and we can’t be scared of that. This is really our job and why we’re here. What was school like for you growing up? Did you like school much? There were things about school I liked, but it was really difficult to grow up in Nebraska with my family because there was just a lack of understanding. My parents didn’t have the same kinds of resources that adoptive families have today. Growing up, I was very angry at them but I realize now that they couldn’t have known what they didn’t know. Although I liked learning, I also felt tormented. As I was applying for Teacher of the Year, I realized that there was one teacher in particular who told me I should be an English teacher and it meant so much. She read to us "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings" by Maya Angelou, and it was the first time that I read something from a woman of color. I could relate to things she talked about as being othered, and I could relate to the trauma of racism. It’s really why I am who I am today. It made me realize the kind of impact the teacher can have on individual students. As Delaware Teacher of Year 2021, do you feel a sense of duty to let other Asian-Americans know that they too can be teachers? Yes, definitely. One of the things I did with my teacher of the year is that I successfully ran a campaign to become a school board member of the district I live in. Our opinions and viewpoints, as teachers, are not valued even within the education professions. So, to have that conversation about whether teachers should be allowed on the board is something I had to prove. And finally, what advice would you give to people, like yourself, who want to get into education? I think you need to be willing to work really hard and be patient because, oftentimes, the reward and why we teach doesn’t happen until years from now. If you love kids and have a passion in whatever subject in education, then that’s exactly the kind of person we want. Your background doesn’t matter, because we need all different kinds of people to reach all different kinds of kids.

The Universal Asian got to know Jean Elliott, a wholehearted apparel designer and creative. Visit her site here. Tell us about yourself. I was adopted from China at age two; and my parents have lived in Portland, Oregon for the past 25 years, I believe. So I’ve been here, went to school here, and went to college at the University of Oregon. I graduated with a degree in Product Design; and I’m currently working as a product developer at the company Poler. What got you into apparel design and design as a whole? When I was in fifth grade, I was super into dragons. I drew them all the time. Then, in high school, I was part of the AP Studio Art class, which was just an art class with concentrations and a bunch of different projects. From there, when I was looking at colleges, I didn’t know what I wanted to do degree-wise, and I had a college admissions person ask me if I’d ever heard of product design. I hadn’t, so I looked into it, and it seemed like a really great major for my interests. My parents were super encouraging; they didn’t steer me away from any sort of degree. In my program, we had a term where we had to just figure out how to sew a bag in five weeks. Since then, I’ve been super interested in sewing. Now, I sew a lot of my own clothes. I’m in the process of getting one of my friends to design a label for me, so I can start selling more professionally. I’m actually getting married soon, so I’m going to make my wedding dress for that. But, yeah, I think it’s such a cool hands-on art form. What inspires your pieces? At the moment, since I’m still learning and teaching myself how to make things, a lot of it is construction-based. I want it to fit well, and I want all the stitching to be perfect. But, I think in the future, when I start to actually create my own things and not worry about construction, I really love the idea of creating stuff that’s a little more extra or has more frills on it, because that’s not really my personality; I think it’d be a really cool thing to explore. I just made a super cute baby blue tiered dress that I’m super excited for. It’s kind of too cold to wear it right now, but I’ll wear it sometime. What is the process of designing a piece from start to finish? Usually you have to start out with sketches and that kind of thing, and I’m kind of lazy—but that’s the process you start with any real design. You do need to start out with sketches, and that’s what I had to do. I had a ten-week course where we had to have sixty drawings every class… it was horrible. So, you design it on paper, and then you start constructing it either by hand or on a computer program. You create the pattern out of paper usually, and then you make a test pattern out of muslin, fit it, and if it doesn’t work, you have to do a bunch of other adjustments. Then, you continue that iteration until it basically fits the way you want it to. And then, you go into creating an actual product. If you’re really good and know exactly what you want, then you can skip a few steps, but I’m not at that point yet. What are some challenges you find yourself running into while working on a piece? Personally, I’m a bit of a perfectionist. Like, if I feel like something isn’t going to be perfect or if I feel like I’m not going to have time to do it the way that I want to, I freeze up and I’m like ‘oh my god I can’t do this’ so I work on other little things. Then, I have to finish at the last minute and stay up for two straight nights to do it. It usually turns out fine, but I just psych myself out a lot of the time because I want it to be a certain way. Construction-wise, it’s so annoying if the fabric is stretchy at all, and you’re just not careful about it. With sewing, it’s think twice, sew once. It’s a pain, because I don’t quite have the technology to sew certain things. With stretch fabric, you need the stitch to also stretch. Leather is also a huge pain to work with because if you mess that up you really mess that up, and it’s really expensive. What’s your favorite material to work with and why? I would say just plain old 100% cotton. Only because it doesn’t stretch, and a lot of the products and clothes I like to make are made out of it. Like, I’ve made a few chore jackets; I’ve made pants. I think it’s easier to pattern for those because you don’t have to make the pattern while considering that it might stretch or that it will stretch in the final product. Who are your biggest influencers as a designer? I just recently finished the entire season of “Next in Fashion,” which is hosted by Tan France and Alexa Chung. The winner of that show is a Korean designer, Minju Kim; I love all of her stuff. It’s so great. It’s all super flowy, and it’s very playful but not childish. She blends that super well. There’s also Vera Wang. She does bridal gowns all the time. I read that she didn’t start designing her stuff until she was 40 or something. I think she was already in that scene, but didn’t start designing until later, so there’s hope! Then, in general, not design-wise, I just love Asian representation. Like, Ali Wong. I love all her stand-up. I love everything she does. What advice do you have for aspiring designers? I have my own problems with this: be able to create stuff, and then not be afraid to hate it in the end. Because sometimes I’ll create something, and the perfectionist in me wants it to be perfect, and if it’s not I’ll get really upset at myself. Also, be okay with wasting fabric. That’s one of my big issues, I don’t like wasting anything. And I know you need to have a ton of iterations to get something to where you want it to be. It’s a muscle you have to work on, just like anything else you want to be successful in. Continue to do what you want to do even if it sucks sometimes. Find people—find a lot of Asian-American or Asian creatives to follow. Yeah, just finding people who look like me has always been super cool for me. Growing up, I didn’t really get into it until college. What is the business side of designing like? How do you market and promote your work? The business side of designing is literally the worst part for me, because it has nothing to do with the actual designing process. I know a lot of this from work, because I’m emailing all day, for eight hours plus. I’m a product developer, so it’s my job to help move the designs along, but the designing part is such a small part right now. So the business side of design, if you’re only into design, is very upsetting. You have to be able to tell a story, you have to be able photograph your work—which I cannot do. You also have to be able to write coherently about your work, which I also sometimes cannot do. You need to find the people who are interested in your work; otherwise, you’re just throwing it out there, and if nobody knows it exists it’ll be hard for people who like that stuff to find it. The business side, for me at least, is a pain in the booty. If you can find a friend or a person you trust to help you with that kind of stuff, it’s super great. How can BIPOC creatives lift each other up in a world that won’t make space for them? I mentioned it a little before, but yeah, finding those people who you either align with or who look like you, finding those and seeing how they’re successful and where they went and what they did to get there. Also, if you do end up in a position where you can help people, help them. That’s one of my goals in life. I want to be able to take people who look like me or who are underrepresented and be able to recommend them to people, and have those people I’m recommending them to understand that I am picking somebody who I know is good and they can trust my opinion on that. That would be super great.

Amee Finigan is an adoptee. She is a Korean-American adoptee (KAD), who currently resides in Portland, Oregon. Amee is the host of "The Monolid Diaries"—a podcast that shares and highlights the experiences of other transracial adoptees and encourages individuals to find their voice through her platform. "The Monolid Diaries" is available to listen on all podcasting streaming services, and you can follow her on Instagram. Born in South Korea in 1985, Amee was sent to a foster home shortly after she was born, until she was adopted into the Finigan family at four months old. It’s a day that Amee and her family remember fondly, as she was adopted on St Patrick’s Day, which ties in nicely with the Finigan’s Irish roots. Growing up in a predominantly white neighborhood, she shared: “It took me a long time to come into my own and be comfortable in my own skin and my identity as a Korean American.” She was labeled as quiet and shy and “people actually called me mute,” she revealed, “But now you can’t get me to shut up!” Now, she hopes to raise the voices of other transracial adoptees through her latest podcast, "The Monolid Diaries." The name of the series originates from wanting to highlight the beauty of Asian features and feeling a need to share her experiences as a KAD. “I really wanted to highlight the beauty and uniqueness of Asian features because it’s something that I was never proud of. The ‘Diaries’ part is just me opening up my heart and soul and just really getting into the nitty gritty,” Amee explained. Noticing a lack of representation of KADs and international adoptees, Amee uses her unique storytelling technique to open up about not only her experiences growing up, but the stories of other adoptees too. She’s spoken to the likes of Kevin Kreider, star of Netflix’s "Bling Empire" and saxophonist Jordan VanHemert, and plans to speak to many more adoptees soon. She hopes that by sharing her own experiences, it will help other adoptees to share theirs too, which she dubs as her passion project and life mission now. “There’s a whole generation of adoptees that I feel like are coming forward right now and really sharing space and letting their voices be heard like never before,” she said. It seems her work has inspired others to find their own voices. “I’ve heard from a lot of people that they’re thinking about starting their own podcasts about transracial adoption,” she said. “Anyone that has a voice can get on there and tell their story, and so I just think it’s so cool that if I have any influence at all, then I think it’s great whoever is able to get their voice out there.” For many of Amee’s listeners, her stories have resonated with them. She shared, “The response has been incredible. I’ve gotten so many DMs from people. I’ve also created so many meaningful and wonderful relationships with every single person that I’ve interviewed… So, it’s been an incredible experience, and the support I’ve received from other transracial adoptees has been amazing.” While Amee understands the importance of sharing adoptee experiences, she also wanted to celebrate the joys of adoptee life too. This sparked the idea for “Adoptee Joy,” her newest monthly live series on Instagram where Amee chats with friends to showcase the joyful side of adoptees. “A lot of times, it’s about the sadness or trauma, and so I definitely wanted to highlight [the joys] with this series,” she explained. She’s also using her platform to ensure that the next generation of adoptees have resources, like her podcast, to refer to and resonate with. This stems from growing up as one of only a few adoptees in her area. Amee felt that support for adoptees and adoptive parents wasn’t present: “What was most challenging growing up was my parents not having any resources to do anything. So, basically [they were] going into it blind and also [were] not getting the best advice from the adoption agencies.” Through her own social media presence, she hopes to provide and increase resources, so that other adoptees and parents have people to look up to and speak to for advice. She believes that there “needs to be more educational resources, especially for transracial adoptive parents” and recommends therapy, saying, "I think family therapy is super important," noticing the value of it for herself and her family. Initially, it wasn’t easy for Amee to find her voice, which is something you wouldn’t be able to tell from meeting her, given her confident, bubbly personality. For her, it took exposure therapy to really build up her own confidence. But, what advice does she have for others who want to find their voice and let their story be heard? “Try and step outside of your comfort zone, outside of the bubble that you’re used to,” she advised. “You never know what could come of it.” Be sure to watch out for Amee’s other ventures too! She has a new podcast in the pipelines: "KAD Confessionals with co-host Maddie O’Brien." The uncensored, R-rated podcast will delve into the stories of female adoptees and their stories as Asian-American women.

The Universal Asian got to know Woo Ae Yi in her own words. Woo Ae Yi is a published author, poet, and screenwriter. Her latest book, “Profiles of KAD Relations with the Black Community,” is available for purchase in paperback and Kindle. To learn more about her and her work, visit her site here. Tell us about yourself! What was growing up like? I grew up as a Korean adoptee in the D.C. area. Even though the county I grew up in is 20% Korean now, last time I checked, I was one of maybe three Asians in my high school. One was mute (probably due to the trauma of being a minority and being bullied), and the other one was part of a mysterious Asian gang outside of school. I’m sure that being a minority had something to do with the fact that I had a minimum of 10 bullies at any given time. The building itself hadn’t been updated since the ‘60s, and I was there in the late ‘90s. When did you start writing? What made you keep writing? I’ve always been a reader and a writer for as long as I can remember. However, I started publishing in 2008. I see it as my life’s purpose and don’t think I’ll ever stop. How did you know you wanted to write "Profiles of KAD Relations with the Black Community"? I write about this within the book itself, but I had basically always known that I would return to it, which I started in 2007 as part of my original Master’s thesis. My Bachelor’s thesis was about African American poetry. We’ve seen an exponential rise of hate crimes against the Asian-American community, and unfortunately, the perpetrator of a particularly viral incident happened to be a Black individual. How can Asians and Asian-Americans fight anti-Black sentiment within their own communities? I think some of the first steps include awareness and education—particularly of history and how we got where we are today. It’s ironic, but a person can consider themselves anti-racist and still have a blind spot for Asian-American issues dealing with race; it’s quite common. I think it’s important that one understands that combatting racism is not as simple as just focusing on learning about the issues for one race (which could take a lifetime in itself) but for all races and all issues surrounding privilege and the kyriarchy (a system built around who has power). General compassion and hospitality can go a long way no matter who you are interacting with, as long as it’s not “white saviorism,” which can do more harm than good at times. What are some takeaways you would like readers to have from "Profiles of KAD..."? I would like them to learn more about Asian-Black dynamics, Korean adoptee issues, and trauma-related issues that they did not know previously. I would also like the book to be either a beginning stepping stone or along an already existing path toward anti-racism and general compassion and hospitality toward all humans no matter their intersectionality (where their privilege or lack thereof intersects). I also advocate that race-based and adoptee-based trauma should be included in the most current Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM). Some people don’t even know that’s a thing, and some don’t know that it’s still not in the DSM. What does the process of writing a book look like for you, from start to finish? It really depends on the type of book. Nonfiction books require a lot of structure, and this nonfiction book in particular required me to go out there and ask people for interviews, set up a time with them, decide what I was going to ask them, and edit/structure the book in a way that did justice for everyone’s interviews. I also gave them a chance to look at the book before I published to make sure they were happy with how I captured their interview. On the other hand, fiction books, for me, require a lot of spreadsheets to keep track of all the characters and lots of ideas in case I get writer’s block, but there are generally fewer “rules” because you’re not necessarily dealing with reality. Each genre requires a different strategy. What advice do you have for aspiring authors? The advice I have for aspiring authors is to do their due diligence on publishing companies. More than any other industry, there are so many scams and so many vanity publishing houses that care only about money. It’s a tricky field to be in. The best places to learn about scams are Writer Beware and Absolute Write. How do you deal with writer’s block? In addition to writing books, I also write screenplays. There’s an entire series that I found about getting over writer’s block, and it uses the analogy of improv. If anyone has ever watched improv, they’ll know that actors are able to create a comedy out of something as simple as a word or a couple of words. Comedy is a genre where anything goes. The trick is fitting it into something more realistic, but getting over writer’s block is more like the process of brainstorming than it is of researching feasibility. You’re also a poet! Where does your inspiration come from? I once met a psychic who told me that all artists are channelers and that they get their ideas from the aether. Whether you choose to believe in that is up to you. I’m the type of writer that will not write if I don’t feel inspired (when it comes to poetry, “inspired” means “emotional”). However, if I were to write full-time, I’d probably have to give up that ideal. Alisa Valdes said, “There’s no better teacher for writing than reading.” Do you agree?Why or why not? Yes, there’s also no better teacher for editing than reading as well. I’m balancing three different book clubs because I know the importance of keeping up with reading and keeping up-to-date on the times and trends. I enjoy book clubs because they give me a chance to read something I never would have picked up on my own. What is a piece of advice you would’ve liked to have given to your younger self, and why? Going back to what advice I would have for aspiring authors, I would have told myself not to have trusted every publisher I find so easily. There are only about two legit major publishing houses in America that don’t have a vanity publishing branch underneath as a cash cow, but the money they’re making is from authors, not readers. It’s a tough world out there, but I still believe it’s worth it.

Please tell me about your background: Where are you from? What is your job? etc. I am a mixed-race adoptee. I was adopted as an infant, and my older brother was also adopted as well. However, we are not biologically related. I grew up in rural Vermont, which was primarily a very white state. I think my brother and I were probably the only Asians in school. There were maybe a couple of Black kids, but some of them were also adopted. Thus, we didn’t really grow up with much diversity around us. It is a small town after all. I always felt like the odd one out because I looked different than the other kids. Being an adoptee as well added another layer to the feeling of being different. I always enjoyed art in school because it was therapeutic for me. It was like meditation to me, and I would just get lost in it. I then went to college and got an undergraduate degree in psychology with a minor in studio art. However, although I did a lot of painting and drawing, it never stuck with me. When I got married, whilst planning my wedding, I found working on the design concepts fun. That really sparked my interest in doing wedding-related things. When I worked with flowers, it was a whole different level for me. I am an anxious person, but somehow when I work with flowers, everything else just goes away and it’s just me and my flowers. I feel so peaceful as well. How long have you been a florist for? I’ve been a florist for about five years. Originally, I really wanted to do styling and planning for wedding events, but then I moved from Vermont to Virginia with my husband. I still wanted to do something within the wedding field, so I got in touch with the local flower shop. Although I didn’t have any experience with flowers at all, I had a passion for the wedding industry, so they hired me. From then on, I fell in love with flowers, and they became my art medium. I think this is what I want to do forever in terms of work. I feel super lucky that I found something that I love so much. You mentioned that you studied psychology in college. Was there a reason why you didn’t pursue a career in psychology? I always felt kind of out of place growing up. I was also really drawn to psychology and mental health, and because of that, I had the intention to go to school and become a therapist. However, after college, I realized that I didn’t want to go to grad school. To become a therapist, you have to really go to grad school. Despite that, I did end up working in childcare and worked there for a couple years until I got married. What was it like growing up? I think, regardless of race, being an adoptee automatically makes me different from others. It’s a subconscious feeling that I can’t explain. Growing up, I honestly didn’t think much about it. I was surrounded by mostly white families and kids, and I’m white passing, which is also another thing. I never really felt Asian nor white. Some people do think I’m white, but that’s a whole [other] kind of complexity. It wasn’t until recently that I started exploring who I am and dove into what it means to be an Asian adoptee and how it impacts me. I think for so long I just pushed it aside, especially because I didn’t feel that there are communities out there that I was aware of that I could talk to and explore things with. Growing up, I wasn’t part of any adoptee community. I had met only a handful of other adoptees, but I’d never had a real conversation with them until last year. That might be because of the pandemic and everyone is doing things online. I guess it made it easier to connect with others online and organize Zoom chats, etc. I currently live in Portland, a relatively diverse city. However, most of the people I interact with or work with are mostly white. So I have never really been exposed to a group of Asian people. As I’m also half white, I don’t think I would be comfortable going to an Asian meetup or joining the community. I guess this feeling also stems from the fact that my parents are white. Other than my brother who is Asian, I don’t have any connections to my Asian roots or ancestry. There’s this Facebook group called Subtle Asian Adoptee Traits. When I first joined the group, I had to clarify with them that I’m half Asian because a part of me doesn’t feel like I deserved or earned the title of being considered an Asian person. However, I’m now slowly telling myself, “No, I am Asian as well. I’m allowed to say that.” Although, I do still feel like a fraud sometimes—especially as an adoptee, that [has] added another layer of complexity. Were you ever curious about your biological parents? As I was adopted in the U.S., I think it is much easier for me to get information about my biological parents than international adoptees. However, I grew up not wanting to have any information. I just didn’t feel like I needed it. I think a part of me was pushing it away because of all the complexities of an adoption. Apart from that, I didn’t have a support group as well so I didn’t want to go down that path. However, I think during one of the holidays, my mom got me a 23andMe genetic test. Everyone knew I was half Asian, but we didn’t know the exact details. So, I took it and we found a DNA relative who was listed as a second or third cousin. In the beginning, I doubted that they would have any information, but out of curiosity, I reached out to them. We found out that his mother and my biological mother were sisters. Since then, I’ve started my journey to get more information about my bio family. It’s really complicated, and there is a lot to unpack; but I do feel a sense of relief from it. I think I’m at the point where I just don’t have expectations. A part of me thinks that it would be easier to not think about it or have any attachments towards it. All those years, I didn’t even think about my being adopted. I was just suppressing a part of who I was. But now I [have] realized that being a half Asian adoptee is a huge part of me. In terms of your career, do you have any plans for the future? I’m the kind of person who doesn’t really plan that far ahead into the future. I like to take things month by month. However, my husband, who is from Belgium, and I love to travel. We’ve been going to different places throughout our lives together. There are a lot of national parks in the U.S., which has designated areas that are preserved landscapes. We’ve been trying to travel to all of them. We would get an RV and just live on the road. In terms of my career and flowers, I really want to focus on elopements. I want to make flowers for people who want to like elope in the mountains, or some beautiful place. It will mostly be intimate and personal weddings that are smaller scale. I’m not really into big, grand, fancy weddings. I think in the short term, such as in the next five years or so, I would love to get on the road fulltime and be able to travel wherever we want to and freelance. For instance, during the summer, Oregon is really great for weddings, and maybe during the fall or winter, we will move to the South where I will do elopements and small events. I think it’s a big thing for me to be able to do something that takes the noise, stress, and anxiety out. Whenever I work with flowers, my mind feels clear and at peace. That feeling is the best thing. I just love that I can do that for work. It’s simply amazing. Follow Caroline on IG @carolinereusenflowers and/or go to carolinereusenflowers.com Cover photo credit: Angela Nunnink

The Universal Asian got to know Mia Kaplan, a multi-talented artist with a focus in metalsmithing and jewelry. Visit her store here! Give us a brief background on you. I’m 24 years old. I was adopted from China when I was six months old. I’ve lived in North Carolina for most of my life. I grew up in central North Carolina in Durham, and got to go to an arts high school, which was really great. I went to undergrad in the Midwest, in Indiana, and that was at a school called Earlham College—a Quaker liberal arts school. I graduated, and now I’m in this program at the Penland School of Craft. It’s a two-year fellowship that has now turned into a three-year fellowship because of the pandemic. I had a full year where everything was normal and it was really great—I’ve gotten to learn all these other mediums, but have mostly stayed working with metals, and got to meet a bunch of different instructors—then this year [2020] happened, and all the programming was canceled. So I’ve just been hanging out in Penland, North Carolina, which is where I currently live. When did you know you wanted to be an artist? I mentioned that I went to an arts high school, and that was probably one of the catalysts for wanting to become an artist. I got to learn 3D art, ceramics, and woodworking, and that was a lot of concentrated time for me to just really dive into that stuff. Even before that, I was always a creative kid. I went to a lot of art camps and really enjoyed making or playing pretend or just building stuff. I’ve just always been really excited about working with my hands. But really, that high school experience paved the way for all the work I’ve been doing now. It was such a good foundation for a lot of skills, and learning about other art schools. How did you get into metalsmithing? Well, I went to college thinking I was going to do ceramics, and that totally got blown out of the water when I saw the metals studio there. It was just so cool, and I didn’t understand any of the equipment, but I wanted to know. I took a class there and had a really amazing teacher, and just fell in love with the intricacy of the material and the processes. What are the challenges and rewards of working with metal? It’s pretty hard on my body. This year especially, I’ve had a lot of wrist problems. The repetitive motions can be kind of strenuous when it comes to grabbing small things and holding onto them for filing or sanding. It’s also a pretty expensive medium to work in. That’s something I always have to consider, especially since I work with a lot of silver. The cost of that just adds up. But I really like how physical it is, making the material move, figuring out how it can transform, and learning the processes to make it do what you want. Some other processes like soldering—using a torch to heat up a piece and melt silver solder into seams to attach pieces together—can be really fast and exciting, and you get to play with fire. You learn to move quickly and be coordinated, and it’s been really fun to learn to hone my skill in something that’s really complicated. Metalsmithing as a craft is also so connected to all of these different techniques and tools, and I’m such a nerd about all of the equipment. What is the process of creating a work, from start to finish? I usually start in [sic] sketches. Then I make a lot of models, sometimes out of paper or cardboard. It’s really helpful in figuring out how a piece is going to come together if you can figure out some of the nitty gritty in the beginning. It saves you a lot of time later on. I usually make a lot of my work in sheet metal, so the next thing to do is transfer the design onto the metal and then saw it out, which can be pretty fun. Then, working through the mechanics of putting something together, a lot of times things can change from the original sketch because something on paper can’t ever capture the complexity of how an object is going to come together. So, whenever I’m making a piece, there’s all of these adjustments and mistakes, because it’s pretty easy to melt something or mess up a solder seam. Sometimes, I’ll mess something up or not think it all the way through, and I’ll have to go back a few steps. A lot of it is problem solving, even just trying to figure out [how] to make something attach to something else. I do enjoy it, and it definitely gets frustrating sometimes—especially if you’ve made a lot of mistakes. I’ve been learning to be a lot kinder to myself with the process, and [to] really allow myself that time from start to finish. What inspires your work? Geometrical forms, architecture, and nature. I find that I’m often replicating or reimagining architectural elements, like brick patterns or doorways. I like translating that into smaller components that get put into a larger piece. I draw a lot of inspiration from icons or symbols, and making them illustrative but also 3D. Like, I made this brooch that looked like an orange slice, and that was pretty fun. For a while, I was making work that was based off of cloud imagery. Other times, it’s more gestural, like I’m inspired by natural forms branching off or geometrical patterns that are tessellating out or building off of themselves. It’s hard for me to hone in on one particular style, since I’m in this space where I’m freshly out of school and still playing with all these different interests. All these different things inspire me, and I just follow what I want to do in the moment. What is your favorite medium to work with? I really like working with copper, brass, and silver. And I really like using metal as the base material for color. You can patinate, which is how you color metal, but you can’t really get that much color out of it. I like using the tones of the pinkish copper, the yellow-gold brass, and the silver of the silver, and using that palette to construct imagery, because even though it does provide some color, it’s still super clear what the material is. I think the metal itself is really beautiful. Whose work has most influenced yours? I’m a big fan of Ai Weiwei and his modular sculptures, as well as all his humanitarian and activist work. There’s also Maya Lin, who made the Vietnam Veterans Memorial. They both make a lot of huge installations that use little pieces to form vast landscapes—accumulated objects to form a larger whole–but each object itself is a piece of art. Ai Weiwei’s "Sunflower Seeds" piece is all these tiny, hand-painted porcelain sunflower seeds laid out in this giant field in a museum. Metalsmiths that I’m inspired by include Gary Schott, Lola Brooks, and Shingo Furukawa. I’ve been really interested in kinetic artists lately, because I want to start including movement in my work. How does the business side of art influence the way you create, if at all? That’s something I’m thinking about a lot. I’m trying to figure out exactly how to make my art practice sustainable for the rest of my life, and it’s a really hard thing because there’s all these different paths you could take, like grad school or becoming a studio artist. I could put out a production line, and try to sell that to support myself. A lot of times, what people will do is a sort of parallel approach. They’ll sell their production work to give them the money and time to set aside for the work they actually want to do, or [make] larger, more complicated work to use to apply for grants. I’ve been working on a production line and [have been] struggling, honestly. I’m trying to figure out if it’s the right thing for me. I don’t quite enjoy production or the repetitiveness of it, or how hard you need to work to compete with manufacturing and be the sole owner of a business. So yeah, it’s something that’s been on my mind a lot, and it’s something I’m going to need to figure out if I want to keep doing this, which I do. What advice do you have for aspiring artists today? I would say: “Just be kind to yourself.” I’ve been trying to do that in my life recently. I was going through a lot of self-doubt this year, and I didn’t have a lot of people around me for encouragement or motivation. In a normal year, you would have people working around you, but there are no students now and no instruction, so I’ve just kind of been let loose. At the same time, this has been nice because I do get a lot of uninterrupted work time. However, the self-doubt is definitely real as an artist, so the number one thing is to just be kind to yourself and see all your time as productive. Don’t put yourself down for mistakes you’ve made. It’s just a process, and you’re always learning. Cover photo credit: James Henkel