Mentor Mail
From virtual sessions to meaningful mail—how we show up beyond the screen.
During one of my mentorship sessions (through the Adoptee Mentoring Society), a young teenager mentioned that having something to do with her hands could make our Zoom session feel less exposing. It was the kind of comment that could slip by unnoticed. But it didn’t. I heard her. Not long after, a package made its way to her mailbox: a sketchbook, chosen just for her. Inside was a handwritten card from me, along with a few skincare products generously donated by beauty influencer and Korean adoptee Amy Chang—small offerings meant to communicate care, undivided attention, and presence.
In one Adoptee Lounge—our small, virtual gatherings where adoptees speak freely with one another—a conversation unfolded that stayed with me long after we logged off. It was the kind of exchange that often surfaces around Mother’s Day, when language, loss, and love all feel especially tender.
“Do you call your birth mom ‘mom?’” one youth asked.
“I call her my Colombian Mom” another responded.
“I just call her by her first name” someone else added.
“I think the word mom is a verb,” another offered, “So I only say it to my adoptive mom.”
And then, softly, one of the youth answered with a question: “But what if your birth mom does care about you, and you just don’t know it? I’ve heard of that happening before.”
The group went quiet. I stepped in only to affirm what they had already named so beautifully: they get to decide how they identify and relate to their biological parents.
Not long after, I sent mail to two of the youth—a copy of an illustration from The New Yorker that captured the tenderness and complexity of that moment, along with a generous stash of candy donated by a reader who works at Nestlé. It was a small gesture, but it said something important: I was listening. This mattered.
This month, similar pieces of snail mail crisscrossed the country, becoming gentle, tangible tethers between mentors and mentees.
A handwritten card arrived just in time for finals week, offering steadiness before the stress set in.
A book of poetry is on its way to a mentee who loves language and has begun writing her own verses to make sense of her big feelings.
One mentee will receive a birthday card that reads, “I’m so glad that you were born,” instead of “Happy Birthday”—a small but intentional shift for an international adoptee who doesn’t know their actual birth date and has always felt the dissonance of that day.
This is how AMS mentorship extends far beyond a one-hour virtual session. It becomes embodied. It becomes something you can open, touch, keep. A reminder that connection doesn’t end when the screen goes dark. We call this initiative Mentor Mail.
Want to Be Part of Mentor Mail?
If you have a product that can easily go in the mail, we’d love to place it into the hands of our mentors to include in Mentor Mail moments throughout the year. Your items help our mentors show up with warmth, creativity, and care.
Some ideas include candy, candles, soaps, small jewelry, something you made, yarn, books, stationery or journals, stickers, fuzzy socks—anything that whispers comfort and says you matter (and fits inside a USPS box).
You can mail donated goods to the Adoptee Mentoring Society (we are a 501c3 non-profit):
Adoptee Mentoring Society
4401 1/2 Rainier Ave S. #2
Seattle, WA 98118
I love being able to send Mentor Mail and am excited to continue to encourage the next cohort of mentors to do the same.