I was 8 months old when I arrived in the U.S. I was born in South Korea, but raised in Upstate New York. Growing up, I always knew that I was adopted, but I never truly understood what that actually meant. The questions began in elementary school. I never considered myself to be different until my classmates began to ask questions. First, my appearance was constantly scrutinized, especially since I did not resemble my parents. This never felt like it was coming from a place of genuine curiosity, but rather “why are you not like us?” I stood out and that was just unacceptable. Being different meant that I was an outsider and therefore, I couldn’t belong. I began to grow wary of my looks and avoided the topic adoption in order to protect myself and to be “accepted.” However, having to keep that part of me a secret became quite painful as it felt like I wasn’t allowed to be my authentic self all for the sake of fitting in.

I needed a safe space where I could be vulnerable and express myself, so I turned to art. Once I began to use art as an outlet, I felt like I was becoming stronger because I no longer had to hide or perform. I didn’t have to worry about being in survival mode anymore. Making art has always been like having a shoulder to cry on during a time of loss, confusion or sadness. It has and always will be the only way that I can truly heal. My art allows me to escape from reality while also giving me the courage to face my fears. After years of hiding, I’ve decided to finally retire the mask because I fully embrace that I am different and an adoptee. This doesn’t make me unworthy because I have found that there are others out there who will accept me as I am and even share similar stories. Furthermore, I’ve seen that my art has the ability to reach people whether it makes them feel connected or brings them comfort knowing that we are not alone.