Korean adoptees honor dual cultural identities
Paul Carlson
The editorial trio that produced "Once They Hear My Name" consists of, from left, Ellen Lee, Mary Anne Hess and Marilyn Lammert.
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Paul Carlson
The editorial trio that produced "Once They Hear My Name" consists of, from left, Ellen Lee, Mary Anne Hess and Marilyn Lammert.
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Names like Todd Knowlton, Becca Swick and Jesse Nickelson don't reveal their bearers' Korean origins. They are among nine Korean-born children adopted into American families who tell their stories in the recently published "Once They Hear My Name: Korean adoptees and their journeys toward identity."
The book has intensely personal accounts of the pain and pride of growing up straddling two very different cultures. Many of the adoptees describe getting teased or stared at because they did not look like their Caucasian family members.
Of the nine contributors, ranging in age from 25 to 53, two live and one grew up in Montgomery County. Ellen Lee of Chevy Chase, Mary Anne Hess of Silver Spring and Marilyn Lammert of Bethesda served as editors.
Lammert and her husband Paul Carlson adopted their son Adam from Korea in 1983 and raised him in Montgomery County. Adam writes about his childhood experiences in the first chapter of the book.
"My mom tells me stories of how, when she was walking around with my sister and me, people would look at us strangely, point at me and ask, Is he yours?'" In his senior year of high school, his teacher asked if he was sure his name was Adam Carlson while she was calling out a seating chart.
Adam was 7 months old when he was adopted. Lammert and Carlson heard about an adoption agency in Silver Spring that was connected with Korea.
"We were interested in adopting internationally and this just fit," Lammert says.
She never tried to suppress her son's heritage. Adam observes that his parents always had books around the house about adoption and about Korea.
In order to feel good about himself, Lammert says, Adam needed to feel good about where he came from. There was no hiding the fact that he looked different from the rest of his family.
"I just had a sense that there was no way around it," says Lammert. "Adam picked up from an early age that he was different."
But it was a challenge, she observes, to help their son come into his own identity when his childhood experience was so different from theirs. There were no resources out there to help parents understand what their children were experiencing.
"I had nowhere to look to see how it was going to be for him once he was an adult," she says.
Through a mutual friend, Lammert met Ellen Lee, a Chevy Chase resident who came to the U.S. with her family when she was 10.
Lammert and Lee worked together, eventually connecting Adam with his birth family. In the process, they met many other Korean adoptees. That, in combination with responses to an ad they placed in Korean Quarterly, led them to find the eventual contributors to the book.
Lee, born So Hyang Kim, came to the U.S. in 1948.
"America at that time was for assimilation," she says.
Her parents spoke only English at home, and the goal of Korean adoptees was to be as American as possible. Although she was not adopted, Lee can relate to many of the experiences the adoptees write about.
"Through talking with them, I really became aware of what I lost in coming here," Lee says. "Through them, I have regained some of my Korean-ness."
Some adoptees submitted written pieces for the project, while Lee interviewed others at length. Lammert transcribed all the interviews. Lammert and Lee enlisted the help of Silver Spring writer Mary Anne Hess to turn the transcripts into first-person accounts.
Hess' husband Dan Freedman published the book as the first project for Tamarisk Books, his start-up company.
Adoptee Ami Nafzger tells about her experience growing up Korean-born in America. She writes, "I was just a person of color, a minority. I knew that because children would tease me every day, telling me that I was obviously different."
Nafzger addresses how her family and even she herself tried to suppress her Korean heritage.
"I always knew I was different, but it was pretty much ignored within my family," she writes. "I actually sort of denied it, too. My mother and father spelled my name Ami, and even when I was in kindergarten, I started to spell my name Amy, just because I didn't want to be different. You know, I knew I was already different so I wanted to at least spell my name the common way."
Adam w has come to identify himself as a Korean American, living in the U.S., but with Korea running through his veins.
"I identify myself as an adoptee, first and foremost," he writes, "and I think that has had the greatest influence on my life, because if I wasn't an adoptee, I wouldn't be an American."
Lee hopes the book encourages adoptive parents to seek advice on how to support their children, raises consciousness and fosters sensitivity.
"I'd like the book to be a resource for any adoptive family, not just Koreans," she says.
"Once The Hear My Name: Korean adoptees and their journeys toward identity" can be purchased at major booksellers and online at www.tamariskbooks.com. The editors will read and sign copies of the book at Borders—Silver Spring, 8518 Fenton St., on Saturday, Dec. 6, 4 to 6 p.m. Call 301-585-0550.