My name is Autumn Ackerson, and I’m a Chinese adoptee from Changde, Hunan, raised in Kalamazoo, Michigan. I first traveled back to China with The Ties Program in high school, and that experience—while not what I expected—became the beginning of a much deeper personal journey. Now, years later, I’ve come full circle. I serve as a Program Manager for China Ties, walking alongside adoptees and their loved ones as they return to their birth country. It’s an honor and a responsibility I carry with deep care.

*Autumn and her adoptive mom at the Forbidden City during China Ties 2014*

My return to China wasn’t all roses and rainbows. In fact, I felt more disconnected from my identity, from China—and from myself—than ever before. That’s something I don’t think we talk about enough when it comes to returning to your birth country. It’s not that I expected all of life’s questions to be answered the moment I stepped foot in China, but I definitely thought I would feel different. Accepted? Healed? Maybe. Transformed? That’s what everyone kept saying would happen. I heard things like, “You’re so lucky to go on a trip like this,” and, “It’s going to be so good for you.” But what does “so good for you” even mean?

After the trip, there were more expectations—expectations from family, friends, even community members who had followed my journey. And then there were the quiet ones I placed on myself. The false narrative that I shared was that it had been the best trip of my life. That’s what I kept sharing and repeating to anyone who would ask. I now knew where I came from and where I was going. I’d gone to China at such a pivotal time—right before my senior year of high school—and I could now step into adulthood with newfound clarity, identity, and direction.

But that’s not what happened. And that’s okay. It’s part of the complexity. And it’s one of the reasons I now lead trips—for the adoptees who return and still feel uncertain. For the ones who don’t find answers, but learn to ask better questions. For those who don’t feel at home, but start to make peace with what home means for them.

Of course, there are adoptees for whom their first return trip is everything they hoped it would be—and that’s fantastic. I love that for them. There’s no one “right” way to experience returning to your birth country. For some, it’s joyful and affirming. For others, it’s complicated, quiet, or even painful. All of those experiences are valid. All of them belong.

For me, it wasn’t one moment that changed everything. It was a slow unfolding. A quiet acceptance that maybe the goal isn’t to find a missing puzzle piece, but to learn how to live meaningfully with the gaps. And to do it in community—with others who are fumbling through the same questions, carrying the same contradictions, and learning, like I did, that we’re not alone in that.

*Autumn and fellow adoptees in Tiananmen Square during China Ties 2019*

While my first visit wasn't what I expected it to be—or what others expected it to be—it was a stepping stone. It was the beginning of a much deeper journey, one that has led me here. I didn’t expect to return to China for a long time. I remember looking at my adoptive mom at the end of the trip and saying, "Yeah... I'll probably come back when I'm in my 30s with my partner and children... or maybe my 50s. Who knows, but not right away." But in 2019, I found myself returning—as adjunct travel staff with The Ties Program. That second trip changed everything. Being back in China on my own terms, without the expectations, allowed me to experience it more fully. At the same time, I was helping lead other adoptees through a journey I deeply understood, and it healed me in a unique way. It reminded me that sometimes, supporting someone else through their own process allows you to go deeper into your own. Bearing witness to their moments of reflection, grief, joy, and self-discovery offered me a chance to reframe my own narrative. That experience cemented something in me: I wanted to continue this work in a meaningful way.

*Autumn with China Ties staff during China Ties 2024*

Today, I’m passionate about helping other adoptees return to China. I always say to adoptees: I want to meet you where you’re at, because that’s what I would’ve wanted for myself. As someone who travels with you throughout your time in China and supports you in the months (sometimes years) leading up to it, I know how personal this experience is. And now that I’m at a point in my life where autonomy is in my hands— I get to choose how I engage with my adoption story and how I nurture it—I believe adoptees on our trips should be offered that same agency. That same space.

Returning to your birth country is not always cathartic. It’s not always healing. Sometimes it’s lonely. Sometimes it’s full of silence, disappointment, or aching questions that may never get answered. And sometimes, the most profound thing you come home with is the realization that the journey is still just beginning. I want adoptees to know they can land in their birth country with a thousand emotions—or none at all—and that it’s all valid. That however they come is enough.

So no, my first trip to China wasn’t the best trip of my life. But it was a very important one.

And now, I am entering into another season of managing China Ties—and I couldn’t be more excited. I am looking forward to launching China Ties 2026 and unfolding another chapter for myself and for the adoptees along the journey with me. I’m also excited for our newly announced China Ties Adult Adoptee Program for Chinese adoptees 21+ this fall—another opportunity to create meaningful, intentional space for reflection and connection. Each group brings something unique, and I’m honored to continue shaping these journeys. I’m so grateful that I get to help others step into that space—with honesty, care, and a wide open heart.

Returning to China as an Adoptee: The Trip That Opened the Real Journey

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