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Archive for April, 2016

“Give an orphaned or vulnerable child a birthday to remember!” Holt International says.

holts liar

About three months before my 9th birthday, on January 29th, 1975, Holt gave me a birthday to remember.

There were about 12 of us girls who had been transferred from another orphanage. Holt gave each of us a birthday to remember.

There were no gifts, no cake, no birthday party. Nothing like that.

There were two (or three) men sitting behind a table with lot of papers. One of them was the director of St. Paul’s orphanage.

One man asked us our age, while others were busy writing on the papers. We were all the same age.

He then asked if any of us knew our birthday.  I  raised my hand and I answered proudly because I was the only one to know her birthday.

The man  gave each of the other girls a birthday and a new age. He also gave me a new age and a new birthday.

My birthday is on April. He gave a new “birth”day on November.

Another man said, “From now on, if someone asks your age, it’s important to give your new age… and you, MyungSook,  your new birthday.” He repeated it several times that it was important to remember our new age.

We did what they told us without questioning…

I didn’t question then because I was only a vulnerable child who obeyed the adults.

As an adult I want the world to know how adoption agencies are using the words “orphaned child”,  “vulnerable child” and “give a birthday”.

Vulnerable, I was.

Orphaned, I was not.

I want the world to know how Holt gave me a “birthday” that has nothing to do with my birth.

birthday

My family background information made up by Holt is here.

I want the world to know why I hate Holt and adoption agencies.

family background

 

 

 

 

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who you are

I remember who I was.
I was Korean.
My mother tongue was Korean.
My name was MyungSook.
I was the daughter of  Koreans.

They raised me as their own, someone I was not.
I was raised to live as their own and I became who I wasn’t.

They told me to be someone else.
I’ve been someone they told me to be for so long  that I am who I wasn’t.

To forget who they told me to be means to forget who I am.
I’m Quebecker.
My mother tongue is French.
My name is Kim.
I’m the daughter of Quebeckers.

To remember who I am means to remember who I am not.
I’m Korean but I’m not really Korean.
I don’t speak Korean.
Her name MyungSook sounds like Chinese to my Quebec ears.
I am the daughter of nobody.

They raised her as their own, someone she was not.
They killed her, they created me.

The dead lives in the memory of the living.
She lives in my memory, I live in her body.
Her body I call mine is her coffin.

To remember who I am, I need to remember her, the missing me.
She is not because I am.

To remember who I am, I need to remember I am dead
I am not me, I am her, I am dead.

Korean girl

 

 

 

 

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