I was born and raised in South Korea and moved to the United States during my freshman year of high school.

The transition had its bright moments — new friendships, new experiences, and a new world opening up. But underneath it, there was also a quiet sense of disconnection I did not yet have language for.

As one of the few Asian students in my school, I often felt different in ways I had never experienced before. I built friendships and adjusted to my new environment, yet a sense of belonging still felt somewhat out of reach.

It was only after leaving Korea that I fully understood what belonging meant — because until then, it had simply been there.

Early Experiences That Shaped My Path

During high school, I found unexpected support in one of my teachers. I would often visit her classroom after school just to talk.

She listened without judgment. She made space for me in a way that felt grounding and steady. At the time, I did not have the language for what that meant, but those conversations became some of the most meaningful and healing experiences of my life.

That relationship sparked a deeper curiosity about what it means to feel truly heard — and what becomes possible when someone does.

Work With Immigrant and Transcultural Communities

This curiosity led me to volunteer with organizations supporting internationally adopted individuals, many of whom were Korean-born and raised across the United States and Europe.

While our experiences were not identical, I recognized something familiar in their stories — the complexity of belonging to one culture by birth and another by circumstance, and the emotional weight that can come with that in-between space.

Listening to their experiences and supporting their transitions felt less like volunteer work and more like a calling.

That calling eventually led me to Teachers College, Columbia University, and to the clinical work I do today.