Banquet

Day 10 of the Mosaic Tour

Saturday, 6.30

That evening, the Tour officially ended with a Banquet at our hotel.

The Banquet was the capstone of our ten day journey to discover the history, culture, and, in some cases, birth family that we lost. In addition to us, other attendees included sponsors, volunteers, Mosaic Tour staff, birth families, and other KAD advocates who helped us. Like most official Tour activities, the love and catharsis were palpable. Interspersed between videos of us before and during the Tour were heartfelt messages from my fellow Participants: Jenny, who carefully recounted the moment when she discovered that her birth family had been found and wanted to meet her (they were also at the Banquet); Heidi, who told us the process by which her Danish parents adopted and then celebrated her addition to the family each year on THIS VERY DAY (now, KADs commonly refer to this as "Gotcha Day," but in our home, it was my "Anniversary") and presented a gift to her social worker; and Victoria, who, on behalf of all of us, presented Minyoung with a gift for this which cannot be repaid.

Banquet Lovelies.

Jaeson, Minyoug's 12th grade nephew, who helped me get to my omma on our first meeting. What a mature young man. I know he'll do great things.

Dina, my roomie for most of the Tour. I'm really glad we roomed together, as our personalities complemented each other nicely.

My sweet Dane, Heidi. This is a Big Size squeeze. ;)

My other roomie for part of the Tour, Rebecca, who is so very brave.

KAD saints Kyutaeg and Minyoung, sandwiched by sisters Jenna and Emily. The sisters were the first Participants I met on the Tour.

Our dudes.
From left: Other Peter, Tour Dad Fetz, Other Matt, Actual Peter, Sweet Jeffery, and Paul Going Home.

Our staff.
They were our guides, answered our questions, and most importantly, helped make us feel safe. All KADs themselves, they knew, understood, and empathized.
Clockwise from top left: Joanna, Joe, Erica, and Corey. 

These are the folks who are responsible for it all.
Clockwise from top left: Eunice, Christine (Minyoung and Kyutaeg's teenage daughters and interpreters who will, no doubt, grow up to be amazing people like their parents), Kyutaeg, and Minyoung, patron saints of KADs. The overwhelming empathy from this family continues to amaze me. They have no personal ties to Korean adoption, but feel so strongly about it that they spend much of their free time advocating for us and all who are touched by Korean adoption with their non-profit, Me & Korea. They largely avoid accolades, but instead, prefer to steer the conversation back to advocacy. 

All of us.
Not sure what my face is doing.

Photo Credit: Sangwoo Ryou

Two of the kindest people on the planet, who volunteered their own time to translate, lead us around Korea, and help us navigate the murky waters of KADness.
From left: Miri and her husband, Stephen, a KAD himself.

Photo Credit: Sangwoo Ryou

And I, for the first time in over 20 years, sang in front of an audience.

Days earlier, while on our noraebang bus traveling from Pohang back to Seoul, I was handed the mic and surreptitiously voluntold to sing "I Want it That Way" - not one of my karaoke go-tos, but, what the hell. Why not? Afterward, I was asked if I would like to sing at the Banquet. Based on that song. LOL. Yikes. I haven't done any sober singing in front of people since high school.

But I had witnessed too many acts of courage on this Tour for me to say, "No." I had been brave for this long. Surely I could hold out for four more minutes?

I chose "I'll Stand by You" by The Pretenders. And despite royally destroying any ounce of credibility I had during rehearsal, somehow, I lived to tell the tale.

"Oh, why you look so sad? The tears are in your eyes.
Come on and come to me, now.
And don't be ashamed to cry.
Let me see you through, cause I've seen the dark side, too.
When the night falls on you, and you don't know what to do
Nothing you confess could make me love you less.
I'll stand by you." - 1994 Hynde, Kelly, Steinberg

A love letter to my KAD brothers and sisters.

There are many things I'm still trying to understand. Though the Mosaic Tour officially ended, it's a new beginning.

Now that I've had some time to consider Before the Tour Me versus After the Tour Me, several differences are revealing themselves.

Before the Tour, I explained that "I was adopted from Korea as a baby." 

Adoption was something that was done to me, but not really a part of me, sort of like an extra appendage that I didn't want to acknowledge. It was a constant reminder of otherness that I diminished or ignored. I didn't talk about it. I didn't recognize it.

After the Tour, I explain that "I'm a Korean adoptee."

My adoption is something I can better understand and claim as my own. I recognize that it has a name. As I continue my work to understand it, I can better control how it permeates so many important facets of my perspective and psyche.

Before the Tour, my interaction with other Asian people was scant or avoided altogether. 

I had rarely ever regularly seen any other Asian, let alone, Korean faces - faces that looked like mine.  Never in my life had I established meaningful relationships with other KADs. I had only ever met one other adult KAD. Ever.

After the Tour, I now have 30 new brothers and sisters.

Their faces resemble my own. Their stories overlap mine. We shared joy, heartbreak, and discovery together.

Before the Tour, the thought of going to Korea terrified me. 

What if I'm not Korean enough? What if the cultural divide is too much to handle? What if, like previous interactions with Koreans, I felt too different to explore our similarities? What if I hated the food, the weather, the geography? What if international travel was so overwhelming that it interfered with my ability to grow as an adoptee?

After the Tour, I can't wait to return. 

Everywhere we went, we were welcomed with love and acceptance. Complete strangers went out of their way so we could feel as though we belonged, as if this was our home. Never in my life have I experienced such hospitality from people with zero personal motivation. Just the smallest interactions were a delight. The police academy professor who asked us, "Hey, how old do you think I look?" with a sly smile. The anonymous donor who, at the banquet, gave each of us a box of red ginseng worth about $100 each. Cindy, my volunteer interpreter who flat-out told me that Korea was my home.

In Bukchon, earlier the same day. My name. In Korea. Written in English.