The Adoptee Community: The Missing Piece of Our Diaspora

• Moving beyond the boundaries of bloodlines toward a solidarity of the soul, adoptees are not the marginalized fringes of our community, but precious assets.
• Embrace them not as objects of charity and pity, but as reciprocal partners bridging us with mainstream society.
• The Korean diaspora, transitioning from a record of deficit to a record of expansion... We must tend to our "sore finger" so we can join hands together in wholeness.

We have previously defined immigration as "an existential experiment in how to blend into the vast multicultural mosaic of Canada while retaining a 'Korean' identity." As the years go by, many find a sense of stability in their own ways. Yet, looking at our community from the perspective of handling the records and history of our fellow Koreans, there has always been a tender spot that makes our hearts ache: the presence of "Korean adoptees."

For a long time, our Korean community has maintained a strange distance when interacting with adoptees. In some corners of the community, adoptees were viewed as objects of pity, or a sense of distance was fostered due to linguistic and cultural differences. However, in light of various insights drawn from the fields of media and culture, they are the most powerful and noble assets our diaspora possesses. Adoptees are unique members of our diaspora who have a deep understanding of Canadian culture and institutions while remaining rooted in their Korean heritage.

Here, we must take a hard look at how other ethnic communities in Canada have expanded their horizons by embracing the "scattered pieces of their families." The Jewish community is the most powerful example. Jewish people value "solidarity" over bloodlines or religious purity. The Jewish diaspora has developed educational, cultural, and social networks to connect members from diverse backgrounds, striving to maintain their community identity through these efforts. They hold immense power in mainstream society not simply because of their numbers, but because they have drawn individuals of diverse backgrounds into a single "Jewish" narrative, channeling their expertise and networks back into the community's benefit.

Indigenous communities in Canada (First Nations, Métis, Inuit) also endured the painful history of forced adoptions known as the "Sixties Scoop." Yet, many survivors are reconnecting with their communities, becoming vital agents in cultural revitalization and rights movements. The legal, political, and administrative skills they acquired in mainstream society play a decisive role in reclaiming the rights of Indigenous peoples. Some long-standing immigrant communities have also shifted toward embracing descendants from diverse cultural backgrounds across generations. In fact, they utilize the networks and influence these descendants have built in mainstream society as reciprocal assets to broaden the community's reach.

On the other hand, what about our Korean community? Are we perhaps pushing adoptees to the margins, judging them by who speaks better Korean or who is more versed in Korean etiquette? It is a shameful admission, but the irrational, undemocratic behaviors and discourteous decisions of the past immigrant community once formed massive barriers, preventing adoptees with the rational mindset of mainstream society from approaching the Korean community. While we were busy bickering in our narrow little well, we actively missed out on countless talented adoptees working as professionals across mainstream society.

There are two organizations here that demand our attention. The first is the Korean Canadian Adoptees Association (KCAA). Established in Toronto in 1991, it is one of the most prominent Korean adoptive family organizations with a long history in Canada, run through the dedication of pure volunteers. Canadian parents raising Korean adoptees gather alongside adoptees to share information, learn about their Korean roots, and host events like the annual 'Summer Heritage Camp.' The second is Asian Adoptees of Canada (AAC). Founded in 2021, this organization is spearheaded by adult adoptees to connect adult Asian adoptees across Canada. It embraces not just Korean adoptees, but those of Chinese, Vietnamese, and other Asian descents. It provides a space to share the identity struggles experienced by adult adoptees, hosts panel talks on Birth Family Searches, and interacts closely with global adoptee networks as a partner of the International Korean Adoptee Associations (IKAA). These are truly invaluable organizations.

Now, we must completely change our perspective. Adoptees are not "objects of charity" upon whom we should bestow favors, but "reciprocal partners" who will expand the horizons of our community. Their dual identity is a powerful, irreplaceable weapon in mediating conflicts within Canadian society and propagating Korean culture to the mainstream. This is also one of the reasons we urge the establishment of a "cyber museum to properly record the history of Korean immigration in Canada." This museum must record not only the hardships of early immigrants but also give equal weight to the identity confusion and eventual triumph experienced by adoptees growing up in Canadian households, as well as the social contributions they have achieved.

Only when the history of adoptees is incorporated into our own history of immigration and settlement will our immigration story transition from a "record of deficit" to a "record of expansion." I also offer a suggestion to the South Korean government formulating policies for overseas Koreans, and to scholars pursuing anthropological research. Moving beyond simple, one-off visits, we need a long-term support framework that continually connects adoptees with the Korean communities in their countries of residence. We must build a system that helps them play a practical role as active members of their local Korean community. By supporting reciprocal exchanges between Korean organizations and adoptee groups, we must establish sophisticated policies based on "participant observation" so that their expertise can lead to the advancement of Korean community rights and interests.

The future Korean community, where our grown sons and daughters will live, must be far more flexible and open than it is today. When adoptees walk into a Korean community center, they must be met with a hospitality and courtesy that lets them feel a "solidarity of the soul," even if they do not speak the language. Only when the Korean community abandons its sense of authority and superiority, and adopts a "servant leadership" to serve them with humility, will adoptees truly become steadfast allies of our community.

Adoptees may be our "sore finger." However, just because a finger hurts does not mean we should cut it off or ignore it; doing so leaves the hand unable to function properly. We must carefully tend to the aching part to make the hand whole, and use that very hand to reach out further into Canadian society. As chroniclers, we will never stop unearthing the footsteps of adoptees as historical records and bringing their voices to the center of our immigration history. True integration beyond bloodlines—that is the path for us to survive as a dignified people here in Canada, and the key to completing a reciprocal exchange with our motherland.

We must strike down strictly upon our own internal closed-mindedness, yet extend our hands in embrace with boundless warmth toward the adoptees beside us. History is not in the past perfect tense; it is in the present progressive. A new chapter of our immigration history, one we will write together with them, is just beginning. When we embrace them with all our hearts, the history of Korean immigration in Canada can finally stand proud and true.

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*'Sixties Scoop': A tragic historical event spanning from the late 1950s to the 1980s, during which the Canadian government forcibly removed tens of thousands of children from Indigenous (First Nations, Métis, Inuit) families and placed them into non-Indigenous homes or sent them overseas for adoption.