"I think about my appearance every day. I think more than the average person. It goes beyond just “being insecure” or having “low self esteem”. It’s more than just being dissatisfied with a few features here and there; it’s feeling “not right” or “out of place” in your own skin, because your outer identity is unchangeable, but your inner identity is constantly fluctuating as an adoptee. Your journey of identity is continuous and unbreakable, and this journey is reflected in your perception of your physical appearance."

"During my angsty, omg I hate everything, prepubescent, middle school years, I was always super aware of how I was perceived because I stood out a lot in my circle of friends because they were all white. My parents never understood why I thought that boys wouldn’t find me attractive because I was Chinese because, as most parents believe, they insist that I’m beautiful."

"I look Chinese and when a stranger sees me at first glance, they don’t know my upbringing or background, so I am subject to discrimination just like any other Asian looking person, so there is some solidarity in that. I may have different life experiences than other Asians, but there is still a strong sense of Chineseness or Asianness that can’t be stripped away even though I am adopted."

"High school was when I started noticing how I was different. Starting in senior year, I started to realize that I mainly had been surrounding myself with white kids and my mannerisms matched theirs. I thankfully never had anyone be directly racist towards me but when COVID-19 started, so did the Asian hate. It bothered me a lot even though it didn’t directly affect me. This is when I started to really realize how “white-washed” I really was."

"I remember quite young just thinking that NOBODY looked like me. There were plenty of East Asian Chinese people, but they were either paler, taller, thinner, girly, or boyish. I was none of those. Of course, this not fitting in was also deeply connected to my queerness and presenting androgynously, but I have a feeling that not seeing anyone that looked like me in my school, community, or media impacted me greatly. I think recently I’ve begun to process this. I still don’t really see that many people that look like me."

"Growing up, there were never enough people in media who looked like me or had similar experiences as me. There were people around me who were also adoptees. But even then, each adoptee felt differently about certain things and it was still hard to relate to them. This in turn has caused me to be very aware of my surroundings in terms of diversity and lack of it. The lack of media especially has pushed me to start writing and make adoptee content. "

"I never felt beautiful growing up. Luckily, I matured and realized that it wasn’t that I wasn’t beautiful, it was that I wasn’t white."

"I feel like the general vibe was like oh Amy you’re not like the other Asians, you’re more like us, which is like oh cool I am accepted, but on the other hand awful because it’s like a whole part of my identity is devalued. It’s like you are rewarded for your whiteness"

"As I am becoming more and more aware of racial inequalities and inequities, along with systems of oppression, I have been faced with a certain level of cognitive dissonance. When I see or talk about traumatic events that are happening to the Asian-American community, I feel a level of fear, anger, and sadness but because of my identity, I often feel like I have not suffered enough to be allowed to feel these emotions, so I’m left feeling helpless to my own emotions. While I look like those who were and are being targeted, I have features in my personality, the way I speak, and privilege of a white person that I’m only beginning to unpack."

"I would see pictures of myself in ballet class or of the kids on my soccer team or class pictures, and it would always make me sad that I was the only one with black hair and narrower eyes and tanner skin. I never fit in the way that the other girls did. I would always stand out, and it made me very self-conscious. I could mimic other people’s mannerisms and do everything they did, but in a very physical and overt way, I would never be the same as ‘everyone else.’ "

"I was surrounded by a white community especially when I was younger, and to fit in I did what every other girl my age did. They were all white and I tended to follow the same thing. When I got older I tried to follow some Asian beauty trends but that was with my friends, because I felt like I was an imposter when doing it alone. I didn’t think people would accept that I was also Asian and could follow those trends without “pretending” I was Asian enough."

"I always knew I had a different appearance the minute I went to grade school. I vaguely remember realizing my eyes were smaller, my hair was a lot darker and lacked texture and that I had a completely different face shape. I didn’t struggle with my appearance or different appearance until I was in middle school though, when girls got a lot more obsessed with western beauty standards and started comparing themselves to each other."

"I wake up in the morning and look in the mirror, instantly reminded that I am different. I see the way my eyes are shaped, my hair color, my tan complexion, my body, the way i dress, which is not like other white people or other Asian people . I feel like no matter where I am, whether it be NYU Shanghai, the states, even Seattle’s chinatown that I will always be perceived as an Other. I like to say that there are different versions of myself that present themselves depending on the environment. There’s white-washed me, there’s ABC me, there’s FOB me, there’s adoptee me. Even though these different versions are all me, they don't represent me wholly, because they cannot co-exist happily, and people can’t handle the fact that POC can have intersectional identities."