Emma Daisy Gertel: Why finding comfort with the “in-between space” as a Korean adoptee is a superpower

EXPLORING KOREA: Stories from Milwaukee to the DMZ and across a divided Peninsula. This special series explores historical sites and cultural traditions from across the Korean Peninsula, building a bridge back to the search for identity in Milwaukee. From the occupation of Korea at the end of World War II, to Korean War veterans in Milwaukee, veterans from Milwaukee who served in later years at the DMZ, adopted South Korean children who grew up in Milwaukee, different waves of the South Korean diaspora who moved to Milwaukee to raise their families, and even a defector from North Korea, their stories share generations of Korean and American experiences. https://mkeind.com/koreanstories

In an environment where identity is closely linked to individual heritage, the journey of a Korean adoptee growing up in Wisconsin can involve adapting to challenges like community belonging, social connection, and self-acceptance. For Emma Daisy Hyun Ah Gertel, it meant navigating a cultural dissonance between two very different worlds.

Adopted from South Korea along with her older brother in April 1986, Gertel was too young to retain any memories of her homeland.

“I don’t have any memories of where I was born. I arrived here when I was 13 months old. My brother was three at the time,” said Gertel. “I have memories from photos that exist, even from the day of our adoption. But a lot of the early memories I have, I think they are all from those photographs or stories I was told, not from my own brain.”

Gertel said that her brother did not clearly remember much from when he was a baby in South Korea, but he was speaking Korean when he arrived in America. That ability was lost very quickly.

“I think my birth mother was very wise in how she gave us up. She surrendered us fully at the time, so there was no waiting period. Normally when children are surrendered, or surrendered anonymously, they have to be kept in foster care for a certain amount of time before they could be adopted,” said Gertel. “We were adopted immediately. My adoptive parents wanted two children, and felt very strongly about the opportunity to keep siblings together in their experience.”

Gertel’s adoptive mother was a psychotherapist, with both adoptive parents having long careers in social work. Her adoptive mother’s inability to have children, combined with wanted siblings – specifically ones who would not be separated, fit the situation of Gertel and her brother.

That unique sibling bond and their shared experiences would also be the cornerstone of their relationship with new parents in a new country.

The siblings grew up in Waukesha, a predominantly White suburban community. It was there that the complexities of Gertel’s identity began to surface. But for many years, she did not consciously recognize that her appearance did not match her peers.

“I didn’t think about looking different at all when I was little. Because I could see my brother who looked like me, and my parents – they were so totally my parents. I know adopted kids have various experiences with their families, but I never felt like my parents weren’t my real parents,” said Gertel. “My mom always used to joke in public like, ‘this is my daughter, can’t you tell? Don’t we look so much alike?’ And she always said it because she was so proud of me and she wanted people to know.”

It was not until her teen years, as Gertel became more self-aware, that she realized her physical appearance set her apart. Until then she had always seen herself as being White too.

“At some point, that flipped and when I looked in the mirror I realized I was Asian. All of a sudden I was very aware of being different,” said Gertel. “Every young person goes through that period of being self-conscious about yourself, so I don’t think my experience was any different. But being Korean in a White community, it was easier to see that I looked different. So that’s when I really tried to assimilate and blend in with everyone else.”

Just like many minority youth in predominantly White communities, Gertel faced moments of racism. But she said her experiences never left her discouraged, even if her feelings were stung on occasions.

“I took gymnastics when I was little but I didn’t stay with it for very long, because there was a boy in that class who would ask me why my face was flat,” said Gertel. “At the time, I didn’t understand why it hurt my feelings, but I was aware it didn’t feel good. So if gymnastics made me feel bad I didn’t want to go back. And I never did.”

The casual nature of her experiences with racism continued throughout her life, manifesting in playground taunts and more insidious forms as she grew older.

“The most memorable things from growing up happened on the playground. Other kids calling me names or doing the slanty eyes thing with their fingers to their faces,” said Gertel. “Then in my high school and college years, there was kind of an odd contrast. In the everyday world, guys would yell nasty things at me from their car to chase me away. While in the dating world, there were a lot of guys who chased after me because they had fetishes for Asian women.”

Gertel said the sense of being different had always been a part of her identity, something inescapable. While she had encountered occasions of name-calling and minor slights, Gertel never felt that she was treated poorly or unfairly in a broader context.

“Maybe I’ve just been lucky, but I don’t think I’ve ever really and truly felt or experienced racism in a way that has affected me in a negative way, or had an impact on my life,” said Gertel.

Despite her social challenges, Gertel praised the efforts made by her adoptive parents to keep her connected to her Korean heritage. They took Gertel and her brother to Asian grocery stores, bought kimchi and other Korean foods, and even participated in cultural events like Korea Camp, where families who had adopted Korean children would gather. Yet there were still unavoidable feelings of disconnection.

“I enjoyed that exposure, but I never identified with any of those communities. That’s the part of it when you’re adopted. You’re not raised with the culture of your birth. You’re not raised with a family, or extended family, or any of those influences that keep you connected,” said Gertel.

That disconnection had an influence on Gertel’s formative years into her adult life. She described it as living in an “in-between space” and finding where she could exist as herself.

“I identify strongly with my Midwestern upbringing and culture, which shaped much of who I am. But there are aspects of Korean culture that I feel just live inside me, they are inherently ingrained in my DNA,” said Gertel. “I think of creativity as one of those deeply rooted traits. The place and people I come from are incredibly creative, and it resonates strongly with me.”

She said that people have often told her that she should visit South Korea, that she would love it there because of the incredible level of design and art that was everywhere. Gertel has spent time reflecting on the concepts behind her connections, whether it was the influence of nature versus nurture, or the blend of environment and genetics.

“I think those connections do exist in people. It’s fascinating to consider where these traits come from and how they shape us across generations,” said Gertel. “There’s Korean influence in my art because, for whatever reason, I’m drawn to the styles. But beyond that, it was really an exploration of where I come from, of my origins, of the culture I did not grow up with.”

Gertel’s artistic work is an interpretation of Korean elements through the lens of her American upbringing, creating a unique blend that reflects her dual identity. The result is an example of her “in-between” existence.

“I haven’t been to Korea since I was born. My brother has – he even visiting our birthplace, but he’s not interested in searching for our birth parents, particularly our birth mother,” said Gertel.

Growing up with a biological sibling is unique in the context of adoption. Gertel shared an experience that, while unspoken at the time, was profoundly different from what many adoptees go through. Having her brother meant she always had someone from where she came from.

“Although I couldn’t have articulated it back then, it deeply influenced our experience, and I never felt like something was absent,” said Gertel. “Unlike many adoptees, I never felt the urge to search for something missing from my life. I think a big part of that is because we were lucky to have parents who didn’t try to indoctrinate us into any specific religion or culture. They simply guided us as any loving parents would. Growing up with my brother also contributed to that sense of completeness.”

Gertel said that she did not feel a strong compulsion to search for her Korean family. She did wonder about them, and at times was curious if her mother was still alive, what her life was like, did she have any half-siblings.

“But that curiosity doesn’t extend beyond a general interest. I do not feel any need to make a search, plus I would have to discuss it with my brother. If I ever found her, then he would be drawn into it, whether he wanted to or not,” said Gertel. “So, I think that would be difficult to push him into something he wasn’t ready for.”

The journey of self-acceptance gave Gertel an unexpected level of empowerment, starting with self-love. It translated into many positive things for her life, including feelings of fulfillment and contentment.

“A huge part of it was when I stopped feeling like I needed to fit into this world that existed around me,” said Gertel added. “I think just accepting myself became my superpower. All of a sudden I was like, ‘this is a great part of who I am,’ and I’m going to celebrate that for myself.