For most of her life, A believed she was a U.S. citizen.
She navigated daily tasks like getting a driver’s license, applying to college, and filing taxes without any obstacles.
However, everything changed when she applied for her passport.
Her long-reliant delayed registration of birth document, common among adoptees, was suddenly insufficient.
What was even more alarming was the realization that the necessary paperwork to confirm her citizenship didn’t just go missing; it never existed.
“I just sensed there was something wrong and it seemed frightening,” A said, speaking under the condition of anonymity to protect herself from potential deportation.
A later discovered that her adoptive parents had not completed her naturalization process, leaving her vulnerable to deportation to South Korea, a country she has never been to and where she lacks the language and familial connections.
Despite the passage of the Child Citizenship Act in 2000, which aimed to grant automatic citizenship to international adoptees, there were significant loopholes.
The law primarily benefited future adoptees and those under 18 at the time it took effect, excluding adoptees like A who were affected by specific visa issues or were older at the time of adoption.
Even after 25 years of advocacy to remove these limitations, legislative attempts to rectify these issues have stalled.
A, now in her 40s, embodies the desperation that many adoptees without citizenship feel in the current political climate.
The Trump administration’s aggressive deportation policies have instilled fear among many, including adoptees like A, who feel as though they are living in a precarious state of limbo.
“I definitely didn’t think it was possible for any adoptee to be in my state of limbo.
I know now that it’s not only possible but common,” she said.
In the United States, it is challenging to quantify how many adoptees lack citizenship, particularly since many only uncover their status in adulthood.
This discovery often occurs when they attempt to apply for a passport, a Real ID, or, in unfortunate cases, after a criminal conviction that makes them a target for deportation.
Arissa Oh, a history professor at Boston College, has documented the multifaceted reasons adoptees find themselves without citizenship.
In many instances, adoptive parents either misunderstood the naturalization process or simply neglected to complete it.
In some cases, the adoptions themselves were never legally established.
Recently, the South Korean government acknowledged its previous adoption agencies’ fraud and malpractice in maintaining an increasing demand for international adoptions, impacting many adoptees’ citizenship statuses.
A report from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Korea urged investigations into citizenship issues among adoptees sent to the U.S. and called for measures to support those without citizenship.
Oh attributes the challenges faced by non-citizen adoptees to a significant disconnect between federal and state laws regarding international adoptions.
The U.S. federal government governs citizenship, while the laws surrounding adoption are viewed as domestic issues, typically processed in state courts.
Consequently, some adoptees fall through the gaps in the legal framework.
A was merely three weeks old when she was brought to the West Coast from South Korea.
Her adoptive parents, who had struggled with infertility, never made A’s citizenship status a topic of conversation.
In her 20s, A received a letter from the U.S. State Department requesting additional proof of her citizenship.
Feeling isolated and unsure whom to approach for help, she dismissed the letter, thinking it might be a misunderstanding.
When she later inquired with her parents about her citizenship, they assured her, “You were adopted by a U.S. citizen. So you’re a U.S. citizen.”
Years passed before A joined a Facebook group for adoptees and shared her fears with a member, who urged her to consult attorney Gregory Luce.
An adoptee himself, Luce specializes in citizenship issues for international adoptees.
After connecting in 2019, Luce spent two years communicating with various government agencies to resolve A’s citizenship status.
The revelation was heartbreaking.
“Greg said officially: ‘You’re not a U.S. citizen,'” A recalled.
The implications were terrifying, fostering a sense of fear and dislocation.
Non-citizen adoptees find themselves treated as if they are on par with recent immigrants.
These individuals often face disqualification from college financial aid, federal benefits, and certain government employment options.
With the impending implementation of stricter ID standards set to take effect in May, A will soon be unable to fly domestically, jeopardizing her ability to attend work trips and significant events like her best friend’s birthday.
Joy Alessi, a Korean adoptee associated with the Adoptee Rights Campaign, did not achieve citizenship until she was 52.
She expresses concerns regarding how her non-citizen status might affect her retirement benefits accumulated during those years.
“As children, we didn’t broker our own adoptions, nor did we bring ourselves across the border without the proper documentation.
Nor did we fail to apply for our own citizenship,” Alessi stated regarding the unjust burdens placed upon adoptees due to their parents’ oversights.
For years, legal advice given to Alessi encouraged her to remain inconspicuous, avoiding any actions that might provoke scrutiny on her immigration status.
Keeping important citizenship issues unresolved can expose adoptees to severe repercussions, especially if they commit even minor infractions leading to potential deportation.
NPR reported on one adoptee, a father of five, who was deported to Mexico following a marijuana possession conviction, due to deficiencies in his adoption filings.
Amanda Cho, representing Adoptees for Justice, stated that deported adoptees often face significant challenges acclimating to life in a country that is foreign to them, amplifying their chances of unemployment, homelessness, and mental health struggles.
“They’re kind of just left to struggle and survive on their own,” she said.
In a tragic case, Phillip Clay, an adoptee, took his own life after experiencing difficulties adjusting to life in South Korea following his deportation.
While the State Department claims to ensure intercountry adoptions are carried out ethically and legally, it limits its role strictly to adjudicating passport applications for adoptees.
Adoptee advocates assert that the resolution hinges on abolishing the age cutoff defined in the 2000 law, a change that has historically received bipartisan support.
However, ongoing complications in immigration reform slow the legislative process, complicating efforts to address this critical issue.
Rep. Adam Smith, D-Wash., who has sponsored efforts to amend the law, remarked, “It’s really paralyzed our ability to right a very simple and straightforward wrong.”
At its core, the quest for legislative change is about preventing the anguish wrought by family separation.
“Adoptees were adopted into a family as children.
It’s not fair that a biological child can commit a crime, do their time, and continue on with their life.
But an adopted child is treated differently,” stated Cho.
Further support could emerge on a state level by enhancing access to adoption records.
Luce, founder of the Adoptee Rights Law Center, emphasized that these records are often secretive, posing significant barriers to adoptees seeking essential documentation.
In numerous states, including California, Kentucky, and Virginia, adult adoptees may be required to obtain court orders or permission from adoptive parents to access vital documents.
Moreover, fees associated with acquiring these documents often overshadow the costs required for non-adoptee birth certificates.
This issue is widespread, impacting both domestically and internationally adopted individuals.
Specifically in A’s situation, three requests for critical documents necessary for her immigration case were made over two years, delays that could have been avoided with easier access to her adoption papers.
“It’s incredibly frustrating if not insane and ultimately dangerous for intercountry adopted people like A when they cannot get basic documents to prove they are lawfully in the United States,” Luce said.
A human rights and dignity crisis has persisted for over 50 years within the non-citizen adoptee community.
In 2022, A married a U.S. citizen, creating a potential pathway toward citizenship for her.
However, she remains unable to obtain a green card until she secures her adoption documentation.
With the current administration’s policies, A’s husband fears for her safety more than ever before.
If no resolution is achieved soon, A will also lose the ability to travel domestically, which impacts her personal and professional life significantly.
Reflecting on her past, A expressed, “I am so in tune with how lucky I am and somehow it feels like a way to measure how long and hard I worked and how many times I moved trying to find my place.”
image source from：https://www.npr.org/2025/04/19/g-s1-60166/trump-immigration-citizenship-deportation-adoptee-south-korea
