Redscovering My Roots: An Adoptee’s Journey to China
Over two months ago, I made the leap to move from the little town of Greenville, South Carolina, United States, to fly across the world to Shanghai, China. It was a decision I’d toyed with for years but never overthought. It felt right, even though it also felt impossibly big.
During the pandemic, as anti-Asian sentiment surged, I felt a growing pull to learn more about my heritage. I started exploring ways to discover my birth parents, bought books about adoption, and joined one Facebook group after another to connect with other adoptees and their families around the world.
It’s not often that I have a kick-in-the-gut reaction, but something told me that I needed to be in China. I had originally planned to visit the country for my 25th birthday, but the pandemic made that impossible. Instead, it gave me the time to reflect more deeply on what I truly wanted. A quick vacation wasn’t even on my radar. I kept coming back to one question: How could I move to China for an extended period?
That’s when I started researching master’s programs. I didn’t dig too deep—just enough to discover that the University of South Carolina, known for its international business program, had a dual-degree partnership with Shanghai Jiao Tong University. SJTU is ranked 4th in China and in the top 50-something globally, and as soon as I found out, I stopped researching. I briefly considered applying directly to SJTU, but ultimately decided to apply to USC.
Leading up to this move, I was excited, and it was a novel feeling to be so giddy about something. I did tons of research to better prepare in the years leading up, but somehow in the months right before the big move, I didn’t review that information. I had a detailed packing list and didn’t reference it once, instead opting to just throw things into my suitcase —which left me arriving in Shanghai with a grand total of one week’s worth of clothes.
This entire experience has been a curious mix of meticulously planning every detail and then throwing it all aside to simply go with the flow.
It’s been a definite leap out of my comfort zone, but one I’m eager to embrace wholeheartedly. My most used phrase has been “Wǒ bù huì shuō zhōngwén. 我不会说中文.” which means “I don’t know Chinese,” and the looks of confusion I’ve received have been interesting to witness. I’ve found that you can approach those moments of miscommunication as an exercise in frustration or an opportunity for humor, and I’ve chosen to lean toward the latter.
It’s only been two months, and yet a lifetime seems to have passed. I’ve had so much time, yet somehow not nearly enough to explore everything I want to.
I’ve learned that this journey isn’t just about ticking places off a list or mastering a new language—it’s about leaning into the unexpected, finding humor in discomfort, and discovering the layers of myself that I didn’t even know were there. Moving to China wasn’t about having everything figured out; it was about allowing the experience to shape me in ways I couldn’t predict.
As I stand here, just two months into this adventure, I know there’s still so much to uncover—about Shanghai, about China, and about myself. And while I might not always have the words (in Chinese or otherwise), I’m finding that the best way to navigate it all is to stay curious, keep laughing, and take it one moment at a time. Here’s to the journey ahead—wherever it may lead.