[Women’s Forum] Contributed Opinion
February 20, 2025
[Women’s Forum] A Nation That Erases the Histories of Its Children
by Hee Jung Kwon
Director, Unwed Mothers Initiative for Archiving and Advocacy (UMI4AA)
During the Industrial Revolution in the 18th century, London experienced a rapid surge in its impoverished population. Each year, around 1,000 infants were abandoned, left on church steps or discarded among piles of refuse. In response, philanthropist Thomas Coram founded the Foundling Hospital to offer refuge for children whose mothers, driven by poverty, were forced to give them up. Many of these women left small tokens behind, such as lace-trimmed caps or paper hearts, symbols of a promise to one day return and reunite with their babies. Sadly, only a few ever managed to reunite with their children. The Foundling Hospital closed in 1954 and was transformed into the Thomas Coram Foundation for Children, which began supporting children from impoverished families. In 2004, this legacy expanded further with the opening of the Foundling Museum, dedicated to preserving the memories of those lost histories.
The Foundling Museum serves as a crucial space for remembrance, documenting the lives of those abandoned. It houses archives, photographs, and firsthand oral accounts from those who once lived there. When I visited recently, I found the small museum filled with a sense of solemn reflection. The tokens left behind by mothers long ago were carefully displayed. The museum also assists descendants in tracing their ancestors, made possible by its well-preserved records and a deep recognition of the importance of passing down the information about who their ancestors are and what sort of lives they led.
But how does South Korea compare? The nation’s adoption record system, as revealed in the January 14th episode "The Nation That Erased Me: Missing Adoption Records" of the investigative journalism program MBC PD Note, is marked by severe neglect and systemic failure. This neglect stems from a broader societal disregard for the significance of understanding one’s identity. Alarmingly, some institutions have even issued orders to destroy adoption records, stating, “Destroy the records so that adoptees cannot access information from 30 or 40 years ago.” Such instructions are truly shocking.
When South Korea faces international criticism for continuing to send children abroad for adoption despite its economic development, officials often deflect by citing cultural values, claiming that “Korean culture values blood ties.” But if that were true, it raises an urgent question: Why has the nation treated adoptees’ biological information with such blatant indifference?
From left: Yung Ae Kim, a Korean adoptee to Belgium, her son Louis-Philippe Broze, and daughter. ⓒ National Center for the Rights of the Child (NCRC) Adoption Policy Support Dept. Post-Adoption Service Team
Since the late 1990s, many international adoptees have returned to South Korea seeking their biological families. Now, their children are beginning the same journey, trying to connect with grandparents their parents never had the chance to meet. Louis-Philippe Broze, a 30-year-old Belgian, is one such case. His mother, Yung-ae Kim, was adopted to Belgium as a child. After she died of cancer without ever finding her birth family, Broze traveled to South Korea to "complete her search on her behalf." Yet when he tried to register his DNA with the embassy or police, he was told that only adoptees themselves, not their children, could do so.
Broze highlighted the importance of this search, saying, “My mother’s story is not just a matter of personal curiosity; it is central to my own identity and holds great meaning for my children. Finding her family is both a tribute to her and a way of connecting my past to my present” (Yonhap News, November 29, 2024).
Similarly, Marrit Kim van der Staaij, the 31-year-old daughter of Dutch adoptee Ji Mi Kim, has faced similar obstacles in her effort to trace her family history. When she approached the Korean Social Service, which facilitated her mother’s adoption, her request for records was denied because she was not the adoptee herself. This raises a troubling question: Can a nation that claims to cherish blood ties justify such disregard for ancestry and identity?
The United Kingdom took a different approach by enshrining adoptees’ rights to access their original birth certificates through the 1975 Children Act. There were initial fears that this would disrupt the lives of birth mothers who had relinquished their children long ago. However, the law ultimately prioritized the adoptee’s right to know their origins over any potential disruption for birth mothers. The idea that seeking one’s identity is a normal and necessary pursuit gained wider recognition.
Finding your biological family is not a soap opera: it's not about crying and laughing over a family reunion. As Broze says, it's about personal history. Historical erasure, exploitation, and silencing are tools of colonial oppression. This issue extends beyond international adoptees. Domestic adoptees and children born under South Korea’s recently enacted Protected Birth Bill will face similar barriers in uncovering their personal histories unless meaningful legislative reforms are introduced. Protecting children’s rights begins with ensuring their access to their own identities. It is time for the government to take decisive action and ensure that every child has the opportunity to learn the truth of their own history. ----- This column, written by Hee Jung Kwon, director of UMI4AA, was adapted from an article published on Women News on February 20, 2025.
"[Women’s Forum] A Nation That Erases the Histories of Its Children" – Women News (www.womennews.co.kr) The English summary and translation of this article is provided by UMI4AA. | 
