On the first day of rehearsals for my Malthouse Theatre show K-BOX, I was feeling good. It was a long time coming and I kept joking about how it felt like we’d already done the show (it was supposed to go up at Malthouse in 2020, but you know the deal). I was relaxed, I was ready.

But by the end of the table read, I had tears streaming down my face and was trying not to physically sob. And yes, it was in part due to the brilliant actors, but mostly they were selfish tears. A dreaded moment of “what have I done?”

K-BOX is fictional. It’s inspired by my own experiences and those of the many adoptees I have interviewed, worked with and became great mates with, both here in Australia and in Korea. So why did I feel so exposed?

Maybe it’s because I’ve taken something usually discussed behind closed doors or shared on curated platforms in specific circles and made something for a non-adoptee audience. In many ways, I felt I’ve not only exposed myself but all these other adoptees who might not agree with or identify with the adoptee experience being depicted.

I know that there was a time, not so long ago, when I would have completely rejected a play like this. Because there are so few fictional and narrative-based content out in the world about trans-racial and inter-country adoptees, the one thing that breaks through becomes the experience, the truth. After the first day of rehearsals, I was left thinking, is this even my truth? Was this ever my truth? Is this the story, the narrative I want to deliberately put out there for the world and my friends and family to see?

This made me think of my parents. Oh crap. I thought about how exposing this could be for them. Even though it’s not about them, of course they are going to be affected. People will assume it is about them and they will have to field questions from curious and well-meaning friends, family and strangers. Essentially, this little play I started writing six years ago has the potential to alienate both the adoptee community and my (adoptive) family. Great.

There is a line towards the end of the play that the Korean-adoptee character Lucy asks her (adoptive) mum Shirley: “am I going to regret this?” And, unlike poor fictional adoptee Lucy, I should know better. After going back and forth to Korea over the past 10 years, trying but failing to learn Korean, meeting my birth father, struggling to connect to him and the culture, the lack of answers, just more questions and questions, I should know better! Because I know the answer is “of course you’ll regret it”. But there is something inside me that wants to keep digging, to keep exposing and putting myself through that feeling of being exposed.

But what is it I’m trying to expose? This play has an adoptee protagonist, portrays the complexities of the family unit and features a K-pop star. Naturally, you’d assume it must be about those things, that I’m attempting to expose the politics of adoption, or the construct of family, or the dark side of K-Pop? But those things are not what is at the heart of K-BOX.