LiNK’s Biggest Milestone Yet: 1,000 North Korean refugees rescued!
I am incredibly humbled, grateful, and excited to announce that TOGETHER we have rescued 1,000 North Korean refugees!
This is the most significant milestone we have accomplished as an organization. But 1,000 is not just a number to us. It is 1,000 individuals with their own stories: mothers, fathers, children, grandparents, and friends - who now live in freedom and finally have the opportunity to pursue their dreams.
It's amazing to think about how far we have come since that night back in 2009 at a bar in Seoul, South Korea. I was with our then VP and Director of Field Operations. We were channeling our anger and frustration at the stories we kept hearing over and over: North Korean refugees were fleeing into China but didn’t have the resources to make it to freedom; many were being arrested and forcibly sent back to unknown fates; North Korean women were being trafficked, sold as brides, and sometimes even exploited after they made it to Southeast Asia.
We had to do something.
So we set out to try something that we knew would be dangerous and audacious.
We put a call out during the 2009 holiday season and launched a campaign called The Hundred. The goal was to raise as much money as we could to help 100 North Korean refugees escape China as soon as possible. Through the unwavering tenacity, dedication, and optimism of LiNK’s early supporters, people around the world donated over $40,000 in less than two months.
A few months later, in the jungles of Southeast Asia, we completed our first rescue mission. We brought out a group of eight refugees, including four young women, a mother and her 7-year old son, and an elderly couple we lovingly nicknamed Grams and Gramps.
What started as one rescue mission grew. More people joined this movement: Rescue Teams popped-up on university campuses and in communities around the world raising funds to rescue refugees; LiNK Nomads drove across North America and hosted thousands of events to tell the stories of the North Korean people; and, most importantly, more North Korean refugees reached freedom.
I am in awe and beyond thankful for the unbelievable support of LiNK’s donors, fundraisers, and Rescue Teams around the world for believing in this work and funding the rescue of 1,000 lives - to our partners in China and our Field Team in Southeast Asia for risking their own safety to do this exhausting work tirelessly and anonymously - to our incredible staff who, have been through so many crazy ups and downs over the years, from unbelievable victories to agonizing heartaches.
But no matter what, I am so thankful that you have always believed in our mission and have never stopped believing in the North Korean people.
I am especially grateful to each North Korean refugee who trusted us with their lives and gave us the opportunity to become a part of their stories. I am filled with hope thinking about the day we will return to a free North Korea with all of our North Korean friends: to meet their families, visit their homes, and see them finally reunited with the ones they love -but, this time, in freedom.
Thank you for being a part of this movement. It is because of your support, encouragement, and hope that this work is possible.
In gratitude and in hope,
Hannah Song
CEO/President
A North Korean’s Promise to his Father | Joseph’s Story: Part 1
Most of you may know me as Joseph, but my Korean name is Kim Kwang Jin. It means, “walking forward with brightness.” My father gave me this name, full of the hopes and expectations many fathers have for their sons.
But hope is a hard thing to have, especially in a country like North Korea, and as a child, I certainly didn’t make it any easier for my father to believe in my brightness. Even in elementary school, I was a poor student.
The first time I remember making my father proud was through my cooking, not from studying. That day, he and my older sister had gone to the mountains to collect firewood. It was getting close to midnight, but they still hadn’t come home, so I decided to make dinner for them—rice and kimchi soup. At the end of dinner, my father said, Son, this is the best rice I’ve ever had. I had never made rice before, and I knew it was undercooked. That night I realized how much my father loves me. I promised myself that next time I would make him better rice.
But next time never came. When I was 12, my father died of starvation.
To save us from the same fate, my mother and sister left for China in search of work and food. My mom ended up in a North Korean prison. But my sister never returned. Within one year, I had lost my entire family. I was alone—helpless, homeless, and orphaned on the streets.
After three years of barely surviving, I decided to escape. The journey would be risky, but staying in North Korea would be a risk too. I knew I could die of starvation. So I took a chance. Unlike most people, I decided to escape during the daytime, thinking that the border guards would become complacent because why would anyone be crazy enough to cross the border in the middle of the day with nowhere to hide?
Fortunately, I made it to China without being caught.
In China, I slept in the mountains and went to towns begging for food to survive. One day, while crossing a bridge in Yanji, I remember it started to snow. Everyone around me started walking fast.
I remember being so envious because walking fast must have meant they had a home they were rushing toward. I, too, wanted to walk fast, but I had no home and no one waiting for me.
Later on, I was lucky enough to be taken in by a halmoni, an older grandmother. She fed me and let me live with her for six months but I still lived in hiding, fearful that at any moment I could be arrested and sent back to North Korea. The halmoni eventually connected me with Liberty in North Korea and I had an opportunity to escape China and be the first North Korean refugee minor to come to the United States.
I was placed with a foster family and began attending an American high school, which felt a bit ridiculous at first. Even in North Korea, I was an F student. I barely finished elementary school so jumping straight into high school in a foreign country felt overwhelming.
One evening, my foster mom made chicken wings. They were so good that I wanted more, but I realized there wasn’t enough for everyone to have seconds. So I held back, thinking no one would notice. As I stared at my plate, my foster dad placed his last wing in front of me. I looked up, and he smiled, urging me to eat without saying a word. In that silence, I felt the depth of his love and care.
At that moment, I thought of my biological father. Even during our hardest times, he used to share what little food he had with me. I wished more than anything that I could cook for him one last time and share one more meal together.
That night, I promised myself that I would study hard and go to college. I believed that was the best way to honor my father’s sacrifice and make him proud.
Continue reading part 2 of Joseph’s story
Years before Joseph would reach freedom, talk on the TED stage, write a memoir, and pursue his master’s at Harvard Kennedy School, Joseph’s father saw the brightness in his son. While he may not have been able to witness Joseph reach these milestones, none of it would have been possible without the depth of his love that became the foundation for Joseph’s life.
His family’s support, both in North Korea and in the US, has given Joseph the confidence to believe in and fulfill his brightness.
When recalling his past, warm childhood memories and gripping hardship are shared in the same breath. Joseph often says that North Korea is not a land of darkness, merely a land with darkness. Both can exist. But what matters is what we choose to focus on—the shadow cast by the regime or the brightness of the North Korean people.
Help more North Korean refugees reach freedom and share their brightness with the world.
