A Day at Work with Ji Min and Hyun Kyung
Ji Min and Hyun Kyung recently started working at a food wrapping/delivery company that employs resettled North Koreans. The company buys organic potatoes, fruits, and vegetables from local farmers, and then wraps and delivers them to middle and high school cafeterias.
Ji Min and Hyun Kyung gave our resettlement coordinator Jihyun a tour of their workplace. Though it was their day off, they showed him how they would usually work so the photographer could take photos.
Jihyun: Thanks so much for showing us your workplace and demonstrating how you would usually work.
Ji Min: My pleasure. You know, I am usually not a big fan of getting my picture taken, especially since my family is still in North Korea. However, I am so happy to do this. If my story and pictures can help bring more attention to the North Korean issue so that LiNK will get more support and more North Korean people can achieve freedom through LiNK’s work, I feel like this is something I ought to do. You know, I always want to give back in return for what I have received. LiNK and LiNK’s supporters rescued me when I was in such a dangerous situation in China. I want more North Korean people to benefit from LiNK’s work.
Jihyun: What is the best thing that happened to you recently?
Ji Min: When it snowed for the first time this winter, I felt happy because snow reminds me of my hometown in North Korea. We get a lot of snow in North Korea compared to South Korea.
Recently, I got complimented by my boss for doing something well. You know, since I started working here, I have made some mistakes especially because I didn’t know some vegetables like parsley and broccoli. I had never seen them or heard of them until I started working here, so I got a bit discouraged during the first few weeks. And then, when no one else noticed that some expensive fruit was just sitting outside because someone forgot to put it onto a truck, I spotted the fruit on the ground and told my boss about it so we could save the fruit. If I hadn’t seen it, it would’ve been just thrown away or something. Yes, after all the mistakes I made, I did this so I got a compliment from my boss. It was so encouraging. You know what? No matter how old you are, getting a compliment is still very good (laughs).
Jihyun: What was your biggest challenge in North Korea?
Ji Min: Besides not having enough food and clothes, I really didn’t like that human rights and freedom of speech didn’t exist in North Korea. I could just get by with not having enough food and clothes, but I couldn’t stand my rights and freedom being taken away by the North Korean regime.
Hyun Kyung: I didn’t like the brutality of the North Korean regime. They cruelly punished people who said a single word against the regime. It was so scary.
Jihyun: What's your biggest challenge in South Korea?
Ji Min: I know that not every South Korean person is like this, but there are some South Korean people who have negative stereotypes and prejudices about people from North Korea like me. They sometimes treat me and other North Koreans like second-class citizens, looking down on us. I get very discouraged when that happens to me or other North Koreans.
Hyun Kyung: I am always concerned about my children left in North Korea. It is very difficult to call them, even through brokers, these days. I would never want to think anything about North Korea if my children were with me in South Korea. It is very painful not being with them and not being able to hear their voices on the phone. When I get so sad because of my children, I try to not think about them by working hard. Fortunately, I like what I do at my workplace, so it helps.
Ji Min: I miss my family too. After I came to South Korea, I realized how happy it was just to be with my family looking at their faces whether or not we had enough food or clothes back in North Korea.
Hyun Kyung: Whenever I am having a hard time in South Korea, I tell myself that I shouldn't give up for my children. I must successfully resettle in South Korea, so I can bring them here as soon as possible.
Jihyun: What is it like living in freedom in South Korea?
Hyun Kyung: I am just so thankful for many things. I love the work I do here because it perfectly complements my personality and the way I work (smiling). Among all kinds of new freedoms I have now, I really appreciate the freedom of movement. I like that the public transportation system in South Korea is so good that I can easily go wherever I want.
Ji Min: It is like going from an extreme to the other extreme. My life has radically changed since I came to South Korea. Now, I have freedom and rights I can enjoy.
A funny thing is that back in North Korea even the North Korean constitution states that the North Korean people have freedom and rights, but in real life there is no freedom and rights in the country.
Jihyun: What is something that you started to do in South Korea that you never did before?
Ji Min: I never even dreamed of driving a car in North Korea and after I came to South Korea I got a driver’s license. It feels so good whenever I get to drive a company truck. I always ask myself, “If I was still in North Korea, would I ever be able to drive?”
Jihyun: What should people do in order to remove the stereotypes/prejudices toward North Koreans?
Ji Min: There should be more proper education about North Korea in schools in South Korea. Especially younger South Korean people don’t know about North Korea and North Korean people. I think that is because students in South Korea don’t learn about North Korea and the people properly. Also the students need to know how to differentiate the North Korean regime and the people.
The lack of education on North Korea causes a lot of misunderstanding and indifference toward the North Korean issue and the people. I know that some South Koreans don’t even welcome resettled North Koreans here like me. This is very concerning. I think many South Koreans see reunification and the North Korean issue only as economic issues. They think that reunifying with North Korea and having more resettled North Korean refugees in South Korea won’t be beneficial for them.
Jihyun: What advice would you give to a friend who just arrived in South Korea?
Ji Min: You might get overwhelmed by so many new things and different kinds of jobs you can choose from in South Korea. Try to evaluate yourself (things like your experience, abilities and family situation) from an objective perspective and then choose what you want to do. If you start working, try to work at job as long as possible. Don’t quit your job too quickly.
Hyun Kyung: Yes, I agree! Don’t change jobs too often.
Jihyun: What are your hopes for the new year?
Hyun Kyung: Reunification! Or at least opening up of the North Korean society so I can see my children. I believe if the society opens up, the living conditions of the people in the country will get better.
Ji Min: Realistically, I hope I can work at my current company as long as possible without too much trouble. I hope both me and my company will do well next year.
And…yes, I hope I can see my children somehow. I really want to see them. I really do.
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A North Korean Refugee’s Journey - Pursuit of the Freedom to Learn
By Yukyung Lim
Yukyung is a participant of LiNK’s Intensive English Program (LIEP), designed to build the capacity of North Korean English speakers at the intermediate level. In partnership with the British Council, LIEP aims to cultivate participants’ communication and critical thinking skills in English. LIEP is complementary to our broader LiNK English Language Program (LELP), which supports speakers of all proficiency levels.
I was born in North Korea—a place where identities are imposed, voices are silenced, and dreams are tightly confined. There, schooling is not a pathway to opportunity but a means of indoctrination, designed to enforce obedience and suppress individuality. But thanks to my mother’s courage, I never had to undergo that system. She made the bold decision to keep me out of school in North Korea. At age eight, I escaped to China to reunite with her, beginning a journey that would define not only my identity but also my deep, lifelong yearning to learn.
In China, my mother obtained a false identity for me so I could enroll in school. That first day in a rural classroom marked the beginning of a different kind of life. I was behind, anxious, and constantly aware of our fragile situation.
For the first time, however, I was learning not to obey—but to think.
A year later, we moved to Beijing. There, I stepped into a world I had never imagined—one of academic rigor, intellectual freedom, and cultural diversity. It was in that environment that I first witnessed how learning can transform a person. Each lesson, each classroom conversation, opened doors not only to knowledge but also to self expression, confidence, and hope.
One winter afternoon in 2010, I was on my way to the bookstore, backpack heavy on my shoulders. Beijing was bleak and cold that year. Snowflakes fell softly, only to be crushed by cars and vanish into the grime of the streets. That scene reflected my life: I bore a name I couldn’t speak aloud, fears I couldn’t share, and a fragile existence that felt quietly lonely.
Inside the bookstore, warmth greeted me. I wandered through the aisles, searching for a quiet corner to rest. Then, I saw it—a book with a black-and-white cover, its portrait etched in solemn ink. The man’s composed expression exuded a power I longed for. I picked it up, almost unconsciously.
“I Have a Dream.”
“I have a dream that one day... people will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”
“This is the time to make real the promises of democracy.”
“We will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.”
These weren’t just words. They were light, seeping through a crack I hadn’t known existed. In a world that had taught me to stay small and silent, they spoke to a part of me I had hidden away. For the first time, I felt truly seen—not for where I was from or what I looked like, but for my thoughts, my voice, and the quiet strength I carried within.
Later, after arriving in South Korea, I faced new challenges. Though I had returned to my cultural roots, I felt out of place. I was older than my classmates, unfamiliar with many social norms, and unsure of how to fit in. But with time, I began to build friendships and navigate this new society. Again, learning was central—it provided not just academic skills but also the social space to grow and belong.
During university, I studied abroad in Texas. It was my first experience in a Western classroom. I was struck by the openness, the individuality, and the value placed on diverse opinions. Being among students from different backgrounds showed me how perspectives can differ—and how that difference enriches everyone.
Wherever I was—in China, Korea, or the United States—the classroom was where I grew the most. It was where I stepped outside my comfort zone, gained confidence, and slowly came to understand who I was becoming.
Across all these countries, I’ve developed not just a global perspective but a deep appreciation for the transformative power of learning. In each setting, the classroom became both a battlefield and a sanctuary. I struggled, but I also discovered. I learned new languages, absorbed new worldviews, and came to realize that I was more than a refugee or survivor. I was a thinker, a student, and a human being with agency.
And then I understood something deeper: My story is rare—but it shouldn’t be. There are still millions of children in North Korea growing up without the right to question, to dream, or to imagine a world beyond their borders. They deserve more than silence or sympathy. They deserve the same chance I had—to envision a different future and be equipped to pursue it.
That’s why I’m sharing my story through Liberty in North Korea. Because stories hold power. They build bridges, shatter stereotypes, and create connections.
North Korean people are not just victims. They are potential scholars, leaders, creators, and changemakers—if only they are given the freedom to grow.
My dream is to one day build a global school for children who, like me, come from hardship but brim with promise. I want to help others discover the same sense of identity and possibility that learning gave me. Until then, I will continue to advocate, teach, and connect.
If you’re reading this, I hope you’ll join me. Learn more. Speak up. Share stories. Support organizations like LiNK that are fighting to empower North Korean people with freedom, dignity, and opportunity.
Because when you invest in a child’s education, you’re not only changing one life—you’re challenging an entire system and planting seeds for a freer world.
Opportunities like LiNK’s Intensive English Program (LIEP) are helping North Koreans succeed in resettlement, reach their goals, and lead change on this issue. Your support can help us continue to make an impact in the lives of North Korean refugees.
