A North Korean Father Risks Everything for Family | Doohyun’s Story
I lived in North Korea for over 20 years, and for much of that time, I believed my life was normal. I grew up in a big city by the river. When the wind blew, I could smell the water on the breeze, and on holidays, I played along the banks with my friends.
The river ran along the border between North Korea and China. I could see across the water into a different world–one where cars lined the streets, and buildings stretched high into the sky.
But I didn’t realize that life should be different, until the day they took my father away.
My father was a great businessman. He provided for our family despite being forcibly discharged from the military when his Minister of Defense was executed by Kim Il Sung. Labeled as a “traitor,” he was banned from decent jobs and opportunities.
Still, my father was a clever man and found success within the private market system that many North Koreans rely on to survive. Until one day, the police came to investigate him.
Without reason or warning, my father was arrested and imprisoned. They tortured him for a year. When he was released, my father weighed only 66 pounds.
Even after surviving the unimaginable, he was defiant. He wrote 20 pages of complaints to the Central Party about the human rights abuses he endured. My family was terrified of the consequences, but we couldn’t stop him. He fought for his voice to be heard.
On a warm Spring day, a Mercedes-Benz, license plate number 216, arrived at our home. February 16th was Kim Jong Il’s birthday, and cars with this number were only given to his closest aides. My father spoke with the man for hours about his letter. The man apologized and promised something like this wouldn’t happen again. This gave us a bit of hope for the future – for the possibility of change.
But the man left for Pyongyang. And then the police returned. I never saw my father again.
For two years, my family and I lived in unknowing agony, receiving no news on my father. Eventually, we heard from my father’s friend, who was a police officer, that he had passed away in prison.
At the very least, we wanted to send him off properly, so we asked that same friend how we could get my father’s body. Three days later, he returned. He told us they would not return my father’s body. My father had been sentenced to eight years in prison. He’d passed away after two. He still had six more years to serve – as a dead body. As a corpse.
For the first time I wondered whether this was the way normal people lived.
In 2009 I decided to escape from North Korea. Life had become near impossible for me after my father’s death, and I continued to face discrimination due to our family’s status in society.
By then, I had been married to my wife, Jiyeon, for two years. Most of our relationship before marriage was through the phone, because we lived far apart, and traveling in North Korea is difficult. So we called each other every night and talked for hours.
Now, I didn’t know if I was going somewhere she would never be able to reach. I told her it was a business trip. Two weeks. I’ll just be gone for two weeks.
She still cried at the train station, thinking about those two weeks. I couldn’t cry with her because then she would know the truth. So I boarded the train without a word, and watched it take me away from her.
From the moment I escaped North Korea, it felt like I was being chased by a grim reaper. There were multiple close-calls where I felt death breathing down my neck.
I was once hiding in a corn field near the Chinese border. Lying on my stomach, I watched soldiers patrol the area when suddenly, one of them walked towards me. It was too late to run or hide.
I had brought poison with me in case something like this happened - I knew it would be better to kill myself rather than be captured. But as I prepared to take the poison, I thought of my wife. I thought about how she would never know what happened to me.
In that moment of sheer terror, I heard the sound of water. The soldier stood right beside me but he hadn’t seen me. He had only walked over to relieve himself. For the next few minutes, I couldn’t move. The soldier had left, but my body held onto the terror of that moment. I remained hunched and hurried for the rest of the journey.
Eventually, I made it safely to South Korea. I started working as soon as possible – 12 hour days to pay back the broker fee, and save up money for my wife’s escape. My schedule was just working and sleeping, working and sleeping. It was hard, but for the first time in a long time, I had hope.
I was able to find a broker who put me in contact with my wife. It had been ten months since I’d defected at that point – ten months of her not knowing whether I was dead or alive. The call couldn’t be made in the city because the signal could be intercepted, so my wife and the broker hiked to the top of a mountain.
When we heard each other’s voices again, all we could do was cry. But we didn’t have much time, and so I asked her, you’re coming, right?
She said she was.
On December 27th, 2011, Jiyeon crossed the river to escape North Korea on the same route that I took.
As soon as my wife arrived in South Korea, I went to meet her. I was so excited. I couldn’t stop crying. When my wife came into the room, she was crying too – but do you know what’s the first thing she did when she saw me?
She punched me – crying, calling me a liar. And I deserved it.
We live in Utah now with our two beautiful sons. We go fishing, camping, and enjoy the outdoors together. Every time I see them, I realize I’m living in a different world, one where we can finally dream and decide our own future.
This is the life I’ve made for my children. This is the life my father envisioned for me and for all North Koreans when he made his act of defiance. My father died fighting for his voice to be heard – and now, finally, he’ll be heard by the world.
Doohyun risked everything to create a future where his family could live together in freedom. Their story isn’t unique - there are many more North Koreans waiting and hoping for the day when they can reunite with loved ones. Help make freedom part of every North Korean’s story.
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Since resettling in the United States, Doohyun has completed his undergraduate studies and now works for a North Korean human rights organization. He considers helping the North Korean people to be his life’s mission, continuing his father’s legacy.
North Korean Women's Football Team Arrives in Suwon: Propaganda vs Real People on the World Stage
⏱️ 30-Second Summary
- Inter-Korean Women’s Soccer: The AWCL semi-final between Suwon FC Women and North Korea's Naegohyang Women's Football Club has been confirmed for May 20th at Suwon Sports Complex. This visit by a North Korean sports delegation will be the first of its kind in nearly eight years.
- High-Stakes: In North Korea, social advancement is nearly impossible if one’s “songbun” (political status) is unfavorable. The realm of sports is a rare exception. A win in an international competition secures a jump in social standing. On the other hand, the cost of failure is just as high.
The Women Behind the Uniform: Two documentaries by Director Brigitte Weich, Hana, Dul, Sed and Ned, Tassot, Yossot offer a glimpse of the passion, friendship, and subsequent lives of North Korean athletes.
The First North Korean Sports Delegation to Visit South Korea in Eight Years
On May 20th, Pyongyang-based Naegohyang Women’s FC and South Korea’s Suwon FC Women will be facing off in the semi-finals of the AFC Women’s Champions League. The match will take place in South Korea at the Suwon Sports Complex. This visit by a North Korean sports delegation will be the first of its kind in nearly eight years. The last time a North Korean women’s football team competed on southern soil was at the 2014 Incheon Asian Games.
The North Korean women’s football team has consistently demonstrated world-class strength. Expectations for their upcoming match are high, naturally leading to questions about the individuals representing the world’s most closed country: How did North Korean women’s football reach this level? Under what conditions are these athletes playing?
World-Class Athleticism: North Korean Women's National Football Team
As of April 21, 2026, the North Korean women's national football team is 11th in the FIFA rankings, placing it in the top tier globally. Comparatively, South Korea is ranked 19th. The North Korean team has maintained its status with multiple wings in international tournaments, including the U-17 and U-20 Women’s World Cups.
Naegohyang Women's Football Club is the reigning champion of North Korea's top-tier women's football league, celebrating its 10th anniversary in 2022. In the quarterfinals of the AFC Women’s Champions League, they defeated Vietnam's Ho Chi Minh City Women’s FC to secure their ticket to Suwon.
This strong performance is not limited to just the Naegohyang club. North Korean women’s football has also won the U-17 and U-20 Women’s World Cups multiple times. At the 2025 U-17 tournament held in Morocco, the team once again claimed the title by defeating the Netherlands 3-0.
From Elementary School to Pyongyang
In an interview with Kyunghyang Newspaper, Professor Hyun In-ae of Ewha Women’s University attributed the strength of North Korean women’s soccer “not the the popularization of athletic activities, but rather to state-led selection and development.”
The development of athletes in North Korea begins at a very young age. North Korean authorities reportedly "bring football prodigies from across the country to Pyongyang starting in elementary school and train them systematically." Recognizing that performance in international competitions contributes to the national image, the state provides support ranging from European-style training systems to even overseas training camps.
Medals, Apartments, and Coal Mines: A System Where Winning and Losing Determine One’s Life
In North Korea, social advancement is nearly impossible if one’s “songbun” (political status) is unfavorable. The realm of sports is a rare exception. Winning a medal at an international competition secures a jump in social standing.
For competitions like the Asian Games, individuals who bring home a medal are awarded the title of "Merited Athlete.” For events at the level of the Olympics or World Championships, the “People’s Athlete” honor is bestowed. Decorated athletes with many medals may receive the title of “Labor Hero,” and potentially even the highest distinction of all: "Hero of the Republic." On top of such recognition, unique comforts like athletic pensions, luxury apartments, and imported cars may be rewarded.
On the other hand, the cost of failure is just as high. After losing to a South Korean competitor at the judo finals of the 1990 Beijing Asia Games, Ri Chang-su, a North Korean “Merited Athlete" was sent to labor in a coal mine. He testified as follows: "I truly lived my life working hard for my country, yet simply because I took second place, they sent me to a coal mine and wouldn't even let me quit the sport." After a loss in the 2010 World Cup in South Africa, the entire North Korean men’s national team was summoned to Pyongyang and subjected to a six-hour public criticism session in front of 400 people.
North Korean Sports as a Tool for Propaganda
When it comes to understanding North Korean sports, glory and punishment are inextricably bound together because it serves as a form of propaganda. The regime sees it as a tool to "promote the regime internationally and publicize its achievements domestically."
Following the North Korean women's national football team's victory at the 2024 U-20 tournament, Sin Yong-chol, Chairman of the Football Association under the Ministry of Physical Culture and Sports, remarked in Rodong Newspaper that "sports are precisely a war without the sound of gunfire waged against enemies in peacetime."
For the North Korean athletes coming to compete in Suwon on May 20th, the weight resting on their shoulders is far more than just the outcome of the match.
The Lives of North Korean Women Athletes: Documentary Hana, Dul, Sed
Despite the circumstances under which they play, North Korean athletes cannot be defined solely by the role assigned to them by the regime. Beyond the language of propaganda, there are ordinary people who genuinely love football.
In 2009, Austrian filmmakers Brigitte Weich and Karin Macher released Hana, Dul, Sed (One, Two, Thee), a documentary that closely chronicles the lives of four athletes from the North Korean women's national team: Ri Jong-hui, Ra Mi-ae, Jin Byeol-hui, and Ri Hyang-ok. These women played a pivotal role in elevating North Korean women’s football to world-class status. However, after their elimination in the qualifiers for the Athens Olympics, the careers of the four athletes came to a sudden end.
The film’s protagonists are not the North Korean regime, but the players themselves. Towards the end of the film, Ra Mi-ae, known for her lively personality, and Ri Hyang-ok, known as “the beauty of the team,” reminisce over the friendship they forged during their training days. They mention that since being dismissed from the team, they rarely get to see each other anymore.
Attempting to articulate the allure of soccer, Ri Hyang-ok chokes up, “The moment I stepped into the stadium, my heart opened wide—it felt as though I could embrace the whole world."
Through rare personal accounts, Hana, Dul, Sed offers a humanizing perspective of the athletes who take the field on behalf of North Korea. These individuals are not just tools of the regime, but people driven by the love of the game, just like the members of the teams they face.
The Universal Experience of Women
Five years after Hana, Dul, Sed, Director Weich returned to Pyongyang to meet with the same four athletes featured in her original documentary. She shares the story of how their lives had evolved in the sequel, Ned, Tassot, Yossot (Four, Five Six): The Legends of North Korean Women’s Football (2023).
Even after retirement, the former national football team players have remained close to the sport. They have each established themselves as FIFA-affiliated referees, coaches, or mentors, dedicated to nurturing the next generation of athletes.
The documentary also captures the muti-dimensional nature of these women’s lives. Lee Jung-hee, former goalkeeper of the team, is shown juggling life as a student and as a mother of a young daughter. Anxieties surrounding marriage, pregnancy, childbirth, and raising a family—all while struggling to sustain one’s career—are common themes.
While telling the unique stories of these women in North Korea, the film also conveys a deeper truth, that their lives are not so different from those of women in any other country.
What’s Next: Potential Rematch at the 2027 Brazil World Cup
The AWCL semi-final on May 20th will be the first time North and South Korean athletes face each other on South Korean soil in eight years. Both teams have already secured their spots in the 2027 Women’s World Cup finals. South Korea advanced to the semifinals of the 2026 Asian Cup, while North Korea secured a ticket to Brazil by defeating Taiwan 4–0 in the March playoffs. Depending on the results of the group stage draw, the possibility of a national team rematch remains open.
Beyond the Score, the Right of Twenty-Two Players to Live an Ordinary Day
The upcoming match on May 20th is an opportunity for the world to see this issue—typically treated as political—from a more universal perspective: that of women and sports. The North Korean athletes playing that day are more than subjects of a news report or the public faces of a political regime. They are fellow human beings, taking the field with passion and love for the game.
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