My Story

I was found in the stairway of the radiology section of a children’s hospital in Hubei, China by a nurse named Ying. She took me to the local police station, and they put an ad for me in the local newspaper, with other babies who had also been abandoned. After a couple of days had passed and no one claimed me, I was taken to the local orphanage, where I stayed and lived for the first two years of my life.

Due to the large population of the orphanage, I was malnourished, but that didn’t mean my caretaker didn’t love me. There were just so many other babies and kids that it was hard to meet the needs of all the children. One of the side effects of my being malnourished was that I didn’t start walking until I was two, which most babies start walking at one. Another was that I developed epilepsy, which doctors assumed was because of my early years of life.

When I was two, my family adopted me. My family already had a daughter who happened to be three years older than I, and a couple of cats. I grew up in a supportive family that was always up front and honest about my adoption. Adoption was never the frontline of our story. People would stare and ask us questions, especially when I was younger and we were honest with them.

I was raised in a small rural town where everyone knew everyone’s business. Therefore, everyone knew who I was and was familiar with my story. They all knew my family was an interracial family with an Asian daughter. It was obvious. I was one of the few Asian kids in my town. I was bullied throughout elementary and middle school. Classmates used to tease me about my eyes, fingers, and culture.

I knew I was different, and I knew that my story was unique. I never fit in with the white students, but didn’t fit in with the Asian ones either. I wasn’t raised in a transitional Asian household, and I didn’t speak or write in my native language. But I also didn’t look like the kids that I was friends with. They didn’t understand all the pain my adoption put me through either.

As a kid, my favorite Disney princess was Cinderella because she had blonde hair. As a child, I used to want to dye my hair blonde and get blue eye contacts so that I would look like my peers as well as Cinderella. I used to watch Asian YouTubers who dyed their hair blonde, telling myself, “That one day that would be me.” At the age of six, my family took me to Disney World, and I had zero interest in meeting Mulan, but I loved meeting Cinderella, and I told her I wanted to be like her when I grew up.

But as I got older, I became more confident in myself and my story. I wanted to share my story with other adoptees who might be going through or have gone through something similar, to let them know that they are not alone. Because I believe my story is special and unique, and no amount of hate can take that from me.