I don’t recall much from before I was accepted. It feels like there’s nothing there. I was born in South Korea and adopted at the age of two. My Korean name was Kang Misuk, but when I came to America, my new name became Kara Mee Bedell. A white Christian family in Michigan adopted me. They already had two children but wanted further, so they chose adoption.
At first, everything seemed fine. I had a family, a home, and people who cared for me. My siblings treated me like one of their own. I didn’t really think I looked different until I started school. That’s when other kids started pointing out my flat face, small eyes, and calling me names like “Chinese.” I used to reply proudly, “Don’t you know an American when you see one?” I truly thought I was just like everyone else, simply American.
Courtesy of Kara Bos
As I got elder, it became harder. I started to hate how I looked. I didn’t like my flat nose or the form of my eyes. I even tried getting a perm to make my hair curly, but it didn’t work out. Still, I stayed confident. My parents didn’t help pay for college, so I worked full-time and graduated without any duty with a degree in Marketing.
Courtesy of Kara Bos
After college, I moved to Virginia Beach and got a job. I didn’t think much about being adopted until one day, a friend was surprised when she saw my white parents. That’s when I said, “Oh, I’m adopted. Did I forget to remark that?” It was something I just didn’t talk about much.
Courtesy of Kara Bos
When I had my son, something different. He was the first person in my life who looked like me. Then I had my daughter, and when she cried for me, I started thinking, did I cry for my birth mother too? Did she miss me? Did she feel sad?
Courtesy of Kara Bos
That’s when I started searching. I mailed in my DNA to a company and started contacting adoption actions, hoping to find some answers. I found out my foster parents wanted to keep me, but the agency sent me away. I also discovered my birth father. I had to take legal steps to get him recognized. Today, I carry my Korean name once more, Oh Kara.
Courtesy of Kara Bos
Courtesy of Kara Bos
I haven’t found my birth mother yet, but I’m still trying. My story isn’t just about adoption, it’s about finding the truth. Adoption is not always a happy ending. Sometimes, it’s about loss, identity, and finding where you truly fit.
