After a heart-wrenching 44-year search, Han Tae-soon found her daughter, Kyung-ha, only to face the trauma of a kidnappings and a flawed adoption system. Now, she is suing the South Korean government for its role in the illegal adoption of her child, joining a growing wave of allegations tied to the nation's controversial overseas adoption program.
A 44-Year Search for Justice: South Korean Mother's Quest After Reuniting with Kidnapped Daughter
A 44-Year Search for Justice: South Korean Mother's Quest After Reuniting with Kidnapped Daughter
Han Tae-soon’s battle against the South Korean government highlights the dark history of overseas adoptions and the pain of long-separated families.
In a touching tale of love and perseverance, Han Tae-soon, a 71-year-old woman from South Korea, has finally reunited with her long-lost daughter, Kyung-ha, after an agonizing 44 years apart. Han's journey began in 1975, when her daughter was taken from their home in Seoul under tragic circumstances. After a lifetime of searching, Han discovered that Kyung-ha, now known as Laurie Bender, had been kidnapped and illegally adopted in the United States.
This revelation has led Han to file a lawsuit against the South Korean government, alleging negligence in the oversight of adoption practices that allowed countless children to be taken away from their births without consent. Over the decades, many parents have come forward with allegations of fraud and illegal adoptions under the country’s overseas adoption program, which has seen around 170,000 to 200,000 children sent abroad since its inception in the 1950s.
Recent investigations reveal systemic human rights violations tied to the adoption process, with a significant inquiry launched earlier this year condemning the lack of government control over private adoption agencies, which have profited extensively from international adoptions. Authorities have now expressed "deep regret" over Han's plight and indicated they would consider the outcome of her trial, set to begin next month, which stands as one of the first significant legal efforts by biological parents seeking justice.
Han’s personal story underscores a broader narrative about the ramifications of the adoption system, which critics argue operated with little oversight, leading to systematic abuses. Her reunion with Kyung-ha, a moment filled with emotional weight, revealed the profound scars left by their separation, stemming from a supposed circumstance that neither had control over. "I felt guilty because she couldn't find her way home when she was a child," Han recalls.
Not only have both women struggled to reconnect after years apart, but they also face linguistic barriers. While Han invests her time learning English to bridge the communication gap, she articulates a deep sense of loss—that no amount of justice could replace the decades stolen from their lives.
As South Korea continues to confront its controversial adoption history, Han, and many like her, are demanding accountability and recognition for their experiences in a system that prioritized expediency over care for vulnerable children. The hope for reconciliation remains, but for now, the scars of the past linger painfully in the present.
