VOICES OF KCCNYC ADOPTEES: Jon’s STORY
Voices of KCCNYC Adoptees: Jon Oaks’s Story
By Jon Oaks
Every November, when National Adoptee Awareness Month (NAAM) comes around, I feel a mix of gratitude and restlessness. I am grateful for how far the adoptee community has come, for the adoptee-led projects, gatherings, and conversations that did not exist when I was growing up. But I also feel restless, because this month always brings me back to unfinished questions: what belonging really means, what it means to carry two histories, and how to honor both without losing either.
My baby clothes from Korea.
I was adopted from Korea when I was three months old and grew up in inner-city Flint, Michigan, during a period of decline after the height of the auto industry boom and before the now infamous Flint water crisis. When I was growing up, I knew I was adopted, but we never talked about it. I even have a cousin who admitted to me as an adult that he did not know I was adopted. It was not until adulthood that I became more curious about the details of my adoption and began to understand the quiet, unspoken feeling of being out of place that had followed me throughout my life.
When people ask who I am today, the answer depends on where you meet me. In the classroom, I am a mathematics professor at Macomb Community College in Warren, Michigan, where I have spent years helping students see that math is not just about formulas, but also about creativity, structure, and the way ideas connect to everyday life. Ultimately, in the classroom, I try to foster inclusive, community-based teaching and create an environment where learning feels connected to real life.
Beyond the classroom, I serve on the City of Warren Cultural Commission and stay connected professionally through the Michigan Mathematical Association of Two-Year Colleges (MichMATYC) and the Mathematical Association of America (MAA). Through these organizations, I have found ways to build community and contribute to something larger than myself. Being involved reminds me that connection is not something that happens by chance. It is something we create through collaboration, shared purpose, and a willingness to listen. In some ways, this involvement fills a space that I may have missed as a child, a sense of belonging that comes from working with others toward something meaningful and seeing the value of every voice in the room.
Another big part of who I am is shaped by being a Korean adoptee. For a long time, I did not have the language or community to explore that part of my identity. As an adult, I have worked to reconnect through the Korean American Adoptee Adoptive Family Network (KAAN) and by taking classes right here with KCCNYC. For me, learning Korean is not just about studying a language, but also about reclaiming something deeply personal and discovering new ways to connect.
When I arrived in the U.S.
Over the years, I have found small ways to close the distance between where I started and where I am now. Learning about Korean history, attending adoptee gatherings, and planning cultural events through the Warren Cultural Commission have each helped. None of these on their own provide a final answer, but together they build small bridges between the worlds that make me who I am.
I have also found meaning in simple things such as enjoying Korean chicken, beer, and soju, and following Detroit sports. I want to see the Detroit Pistons play in every NBA arena, visit all 30 MLB ballparks, and one day see every KBO team play in Korea. I have also come to love live music and hope to see TWOFIVE perform in Korea someday. These experiences combine travel, culture, and community in a way that feels very personal to me.
I love exploring the world now even though it was not something I was able to do much as a child. Visiting Ireland remains one of my favorite experiences, and I would love to return to explore more of the countryside and someday visit Wales, Paris, and Cape Town. I would also love to stand in places such as the Galileo Museum in Florence or the Einstein House in Bern, where ideas that shaped how we understand the world were first imagined.
Thanksgiving, which falls during NAAM, has always been a complicated time. It is a holiday about family and gratitude, but for adoptees it can stir up other layers: the people we do not know, the stories we will never hear, and the places we have left behind. It has been a slow but steady journey for me, but I have learned that gratitude does not have to cancel out loss. They can exist side by side, and there is something freeing about allowing both to be true.
These days, I find meaning in community, whether it is talking with other adoptees, teaching students who are figuring out their own identities, or connecting with people who share a love of Detroit sports and Korean culture from different perspectives. I have learned that being an adoptee is not just about reconciling past and present, but also about shaping what comes next.
At the core of everything I do, including teaching, writing, traveling, and volunteering, is a desire to create connection. As an adoptee, I have learned that belonging does not have to come from one place or one story. It can be something you build piece by piece through curiosity and shared experience. NAAM is a reminder of that truth, that each of our stories matters, and that understanding who we are often begins with the courage to explore what connects us.
If you are reading this as a fellow adoptee, I hope this month reminds you that your experience counts, even the quiet and uncertain parts. You do not have to fit anyone’s idea of what an adoptee story should sound like. It is enough to be honest about where you are and what still feels unresolved. There is strength in that.
