Shirley Chung was just a year old when she was adopted by a family in the U.S. in 1966. Born in South Korea, her birth father, an American military member, left soon after her birth. Unable to cope, her mother placed her in an orphanage in Seoul.
“He abandoned us, is the nicest way I can put it,” Shirley, now 61, recalls. Shortly after being adopted, she moved to Texas with her new family.
Growing up in America, Shirley lived a typical childhood. She went to school, got her driver’s license, and even worked as a bartender. “I moved and breathed and got in trouble like many teenagers of the 80s,” she laughs. Life seemed normal until 2012, when everything changed.
After losing her Social Security card, she went to replace it and was told she needed proof of her citizenship. To her shock, she discovered she wasn’t a U.S. citizen. “I had a little mental breakdown,” she shares.
Shirley isn’t alone in this situation. Estimates suggest that between 18,000 and 75,000 adoptees in the U.S. may lack citizenship. Many don’t even realize their status. In recent years, some have been deported back to their countries of birth, leading to tragic outcomes. For example, a man adopted from South Korea took his own life after facing deportation because of a criminal record.
The reasons behind these citizenship gaps are complex. Shirley believes her adoptive parents didn’t complete the necessary paperwork, and she blames the system for failing to inform her about her status. “I blame all the adults in my life that literally just dropped the ball,” she says.
Another story comes from a woman adopted from Iran in 1973. She grew up thinking she was an American citizen until trying to get a passport at age 38. Discovering that critical documents were lost, she felt her identity crumble. She states, “My culture was erased,” emphasizing her confusion over being categorized as an immigrant despite her upbringing.
For decades, inter-country adoptions did not guarantee citizenship. The Child Citizenship Act of 2000 helped some but left many others unprotected, especially those adopted before 1983. Advocates are pushing for reforms, but proposals have often stalled in Congress.
Debbie Principe, who adopted two children with special needs from Romania, has spent years battling for their citizenship. After adopting them in the 1990s, she advocates fervently for adoptee rights. In her case, a recent rejection of citizenship meant she faced the real threat of losing her children to deportation.
In the current political landscape, fear among adoptees has increased, especially with a return to stringent immigration policies. Many are taking extraordinary measures to protect themselves, including avoiding public places and sharing their locations with trusted friends.
Emily Howe, an attorney focused on civil rights, believes that the solution to this issue is simple: “Adopted children should be equal to their biological siblings.” She argues it’s only fair that those raised in American homes should be afforded the same rights.
Shirley wants government leaders to listen to their stories. “Please hear our story and follow through with the promise that America gave each one of the babies that got on those planes: American citizenship,” she implores.
These heart-wrenching stories highlight a systemic issue that affects many and raises urgent questions about identity and belonging in America today.
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