My parents named me Althea, the name of the Korean national flower. It symbolizes beauty and longevity. Beauty can be merely superficial appearance, but also an inner strength. Longevity is characterized as an ability to make the best of what may seem hopeless. Being adopted is not something you can see, like someone with a broken arm or confined to a wheelchair. Adopted children and adoptive families possess a kind of beauty and longevity I cannot entirely convey with words or pictures. Rather, it is a life-long experience that only the adopted child and adoptive family can truly understand.

Growing up, when people found out I was adopted, they would ask me if I ever thought about my "real" or birth parents, or if I ever wanted to find them sometime. Time and time again, I always replied no. To this day, my answer remains the same. What has changed, though, is my increasing curiosity about South Korea, the country I was born in and where I spend almost the first four years of my life.

I grew up in New Orleans, La., and went to private school from second to 12th grade. I was one of a select few who were of Asian descent, and I was definitely the only person in my class born in an Asian country; Louisiana does have a few strong Asian communities, for example the Vietnamese community, but nothing I could or wanted to embrace. I knew my Asian heritage made me different from everyone else, especially in terms of physical features, but I did everything to look like the other kids. In grade school, my mom would pack me lunches of rice and squid or octopus, I would be embarrassed to eat in front of my classmates, as they would be profusely grossed out. Classmates would tease that I washed my hair with sushi and always tauntingly said, "Althea, made in Korea."

In high school, I started to somewhat accept my cultural differences, but I still made a concerted effort to become Americanized and be as American as I could be. I was envious of all the girls who wore revealing dresses and high heels, had sweet 16 parties, and attended all the galas, parties, and debutante balls. I wanted all the clothes they had so I could dress the same. I would try to pluck my eyebrows, and I hated the "Chinese boy" haircut my mother periodically gave me.

But no matter what I did, I never looked my classmates. My mother tried to explain to me that my body shape was different and I was unique- the last thing a teenager wants to hear.

I decided to attend college at the University of Southern California, a whirlwind experience and probably the best decision and four years of my life. I went from no diversity to diversity around every corner. I had Asian roommates; I met other Koreans; I had Asian friends; I could find and eat Asian food freely, something I never imagined before. I was part of the mainstream, maybe even majority, for the first time in my life. Looking or acting different because of my heritage was no longer an issue or concern for me. In fact, I looked like everyone else.

The most important part of those four years was that I finally embraced my Asian background. When I am in a situation where I am one of the few or only Asians, I am no longer hesitant or self-conscious. Instead, I use my diverse background and upbringing to add to conversations with friends, colleagues, and acquaintances. I sometimes meet other Asians who are disdainful of anything "Asian." Everything about them- the way they dress, what they eat, the way they talk, their activities-all reflect their wish to be white. They draw their confidence from their Americanization, not from their cultural heritage. I, on the other hand, enjoy learning about Asian culture. I bring my fish, rice, bulgogi and kimchee for lunch. Although it is cliché, I am glad I am unique.

Now after college, law school and working as an attorney in Washington, D.C., I finally have time to think about what I'd like to do. Recently, I have had thoughts about of visiting South Korea, something I would have never thought about even five years ago. I don't have any intentions or wished to find my birth parents. Instead, I am intrigued by its people, politics, customs, history and world presence. If I made this trip, I would wish to experience South Korea almost from the perspective of a tourist, but also with a hint of personal interest and fulfillment.

I recently finished reading "A Single Square Picture: A Korean Adoptee's Search for Her Roots," by Katy Robinson. The book chronicles her life as an adopted child growing up in a Caucasian family and her decision to return to Korea to find her birth parents. While she is there, she encounters mixed feelings about the country in which she lived for the first few years of her life, as well as from her own countrymen towards her. I realized what a self-fulfilling odyssey this trip must have been for her, but at the same time somewhat disappointing because not all of her wishes for the trip came true.

I realize I will probably be faced with similar highs and lows, but I believe and hope that visiting South Korea will solidify my ever growing confidence in myself and my diversity. I have high hopes and expectations of visiting South Korea, but simultaneously, I will not be disappointed or discouraged if I return pondering the "what ifs." Instead, what I experience there will provide me with a perspective and vantage point from which to live my daily life in America- as a Korean-American.

When I think back throughout the years, there are things my parents could have done differently. They could have enrolled me in Korean language classes; they could have exposed me to Korean culture, such as dance, music, and art. One thing, though, they could not have taught me was to accept and embrace my Korean heritage. Only I could do that myself. I'm glad I realized that, and I'm glad that I did it. I am a much happier, more well-rounded person because of it.

Althea Izawa-Hayden was adopted through Holt Children's Services, based in Eugene, Ore. She traveled from South Korea to New Orleans, La., on Labor Day 1982. She received her undergraduate degree from the University of Southern California, and her law degree from the American University-Washington College of Law in Washington, D.C. She is an attorney at the American Bar Association Center on Children and the Law in Washington, D.C.

She was an intern at Connect for Kids from May through October of 2002.