The Olympic Games remind me of:
1) 1976 Montreal Olympic games in. It was the first Olympic Games that I saw in my life. I was at the Olympic Stadium with my mother who was pointing out every Korean athletes. At that time, I spoke Korean and a little English that I learned during my six months in USA. I was shouting proudly: “Korea! Korea! Uri daehanminguk ! »
A year later, I swore to hate Korea forever for rejecting/selling me after reading my adoption records. I also swore to be a good girl to my adoptive parents.
2) 1988 Seoul Olympic Games. I was proud of Korea. I cried thinking that very soon, I would go back to Korea to take back my place. I told my mother that I wouldn’t know which country to encourage between Canada and Korea.
A year later, I was in Korea with my generous-loving-hypocrite-pedophile-adoptive father and my generous-loving-hypocrite-alcoholic-coward adoptive mother who brought me there for our last family trip before their divorce. My hurt for being rejected by Korea awoke, I felt angry at Korea and Holt for shipping me to a foreign country. But I had to say thank you and be happy. Burying the wrong feelings was not difficult, it was in my second nature to do that.
3) 2002 FIFA World Cup. I didn't watch it. I didn't want to hear about it in the news. It was a year after finding my family and learning that Korea was still selling their babies. I heard Korea was rejoicing for their victory. I just didn’t care if they won or lost.
A year later, I was in Korea again. My hatred, hurt and anger woke up again, this time forever. A Korean asked me if I felt proud for Korea when they won the 2002 World Cup. I shrugged and answered. “It didn’t make me happy, it didn’t make me sad.” And I thought: “I’m ashamed of Korea. Do you remember selling me to USA”. I asked several Koreans why Koreans were still exporting their babies today, nobody dared to answer. I swore to never go back there.
Watching the Bejing Olympic Ceremony reminds the loss of my culture. Don’t suggest me that I can read books to learn their culture. I still remember their culture but it's just like if I learned it from books.
I don’t know which part of myself I hate the most between my Quebec culture which is the result of a forced assimilation and my Korean body that had been sold by my birth country.
Simple/normal things of life hurt me. A few years ago, not understanding why I was sad, I would have taken several drugs to try to forget the inner pain. Now I have learned to express my feelings and I don't need to take medication. If there are adoptive parents who want tell me things like "you angry adoptee", "you had bad parents", "I have a nephew who is an adoptee and is happy", I will tell you to shut up.