Widespread Adoption Fraud Created Family Divisions Among Generations of South Korean Children

Feeling the Weight of Emotional Return: A Personal Journey Back to Seoul

As the plane descended through the clouds toward Seoul, the lights of the sprawling metropolis twinkled like stars against the darkness. Robert Calabretta wrapped himself tightly in a blanket, instinctively drawing his knees to his chest—a position reminiscent of the comfort he once sought in his earliest years. It was in this moment of vulnerability that a solitary tear rolled down his cheek, a poignant reflection of the multitude of emotions swirling within him.

Robert’s arrival in Seoul isn’t just a random trip; it’s a deeply personal pilgrimage back to his roots. Raised in South Korea, he was adopted into a family in the United States at a young age. Like many adopted children, the weaving of his identity has often begun and ended with the question: “Who am I?” His journey back to Seoul is not just about reconnecting with a forgotten past, but also an effort to understand himself.

The complexity of such experiences can’t be overstated. For many, adoption brings a blend of joy and sorrow, love and loss. Returning to one’s birthplace can stir a complex mix of nostalgia, curiosity, and anxiety. As emotional as it is enlightening, the experience can feel both liberating and overwhelming.

Seoul, a city known for its rich history and modern vibrancy, offers a contrasting backdrop—on one hand, it stands as a bustling metropolis filled with innovative skyscrapers, delicious street food, and a fast-paced lifestyle; on the other, the city is steeped in tradition, with serene palaces and ancient temples quietly standing witness to the passage of time. For Robert, each street corner, each bustling market, and each familiar dish could evoke memories of a past he hardly knew.

His journey is not just personal; it mirrors a broader narrative for many Korean adoptees. Over the decades, thousands of children were adopted into families across the globe, particularly during the latter half of the 20th century. Each story is unique, yet many share the common thread of grappling with a lost heritage and the innate desire to understand where one comes from.

As he walks the streets of Seoul, Robert hopes to reconnect not only with his birthplace but also with his heritage. The sights, sounds, and smells of the city may unlock memories buried deep within him, perhaps even remnants of his earliest days. He may visit the places that tell his story—a local market, a school he once attended, or a park where he played. Such explorations can be cathartic; a means of piecing together an identity fragmented by circumstance.

Robert’s experience also underscores the importance of openness and communication among families, especially those with adopted children. Creating a safe space for conversations about identity and belonging can pave the way for deeper connections and understanding. As society evolves, it is essential to acknowledge and celebrate diverse narratives that shape who we are today.

In today’s world, stories of adoption have found a accepting audience, resonating with many who understand the complexities involved. Social media platforms and online communities have emerged, providing adopted individuals and their families with the support and resources they need to navigate these emotions.

Returning to Seoul is more than a mere trip for Robert Calabretta; it is a profound journey of self-discovery. As he stands on the streets of his birth city, every sight and sound may bring him closer to understanding the missing pieces of his life.

In shedding light on the experiences of adopted individuals like Robert, we can elevate conversations around identity, belonging, and the multifaceted nature of family. So as he steps off the plane and into the heart of Seoul, Robert is not just a visitor; he is a seeker, searching for the essence of who he is among the vibrant pulse of a city that once held him close.