Freedom Walk & Run 2026, Seoul
What Does Freedom Mean to You?
This fall, 200 people will gather along the Han River in Seoul to honor the 26 million people living in North Korea by answering one question: What does freedom mean to you?
Before setting out, every participant in Liberty in North Korea’s Freedom Walk & Run will write their own answers on the race bib they’ll wear for the 6 kilometer race.
The course is divided into three sections, each representing a different freedom: the freedom to leave, the freedom to lead, and the freedom to learn.
Each represents a different part of LiNK’s work and a different way North Korean people are pursuing greater freedom and choice in their own lives.
0-2km: Freedom to Leave
The first two kilometers represent the freedom to leave.
For North Koreans who decide to leave their country, reaching safety can mean a long and dangerous journey through multiple countries.
LiNK helps North Korean refugees navigate a secret route to safety. To date, over 1,400 North Korean refugees have reached freedom through LiNK’s networks. Every person who makes that journey has their own reason for leaving, their own hopes for what comes next, and their own idea of what freedom means to them.
Reaching safety opens the door to the next part of their journey.
2km-4km: Freedom to Lead
The next two kilometers represent the freedom to lead.
Starting over in a new country comes with countless possibilities, but just as many challenges. North Korean people resettling in South Korea or the US are learning a new system, while pursuing education, beginning careers, building relationships, or deciding what they want their future to look like.
LiNK’s programs support resettled North Koreans as they pursue education, language learning, and career development, providing mentorship, scholarships, and so much more.
And then comes the final stretch.
4-6km: Freedom to Learn
The last two kilometers represent the freedom to learn.
For people living inside North Korea, access to information from outside of the country is heavily restricted. Official media is centrally controlled, while foreign films, television, music, news, and other outside information are accessed illegally and often at significant personal risk.
Despite the government’s efforts to control information, curiosity about what freedom looks like proves impossible to suppress.
“No matter how much you try to control it, you can’t get rid of curiosity.”
Information gives someone a new point of reference. It introduces possibilities they had never encountered before. It gives them the chance to imagine a future beyond the North Korean regime.
North Korean people are finding ways to access outside media, through USB drives and microSD cards. LiNK’s Information Access Programs build on these existing channels by working with North Korean defectors and engineers to develop tailor-made technology and content that help people inside the country access more information more safely.
This is a growing part of our work, and one we believe has enormous potential to contribute to long-term change.
Get Involved: Support information access in North Korea
This fall, we’re giving supporters a closer look at this work through an upcoming documentary about information access in North Korea.
Make a gift of $30 or more to LiNK’s Information Access Programs by October 24 and you’ll receive an exclusive preview of the documentary this fall.
Your support helps LiNK enable more North Koreans to access more outside information more safely. This builds people’s resilience against regime disinformation, increases their aspirations for social and economic progress, and builds pressure for change and opening.
Donate today & get the documentary preview
Join us in Seoul
If you’re in Seoul, join us along the Han River on Saturday, October 24, for the Freedom Walk & Run. Participation is limited to 200 people, so reserve your spot today.
RSVP for LiNK’s Freedom Walk & Run
A North Korean Refugee’s Legacy of Freedom | Holly & Mia’s Story
As a little girl in North Korea, I dreamt of becoming a musician. When I was 6 years old, I saw my school teacher playing the organ. After class one day, I went up and placed my hands on the keys, trying to mimic what she played. When the teacher got back, she asked who touched the organ. All the kids looked at me and I thought I’d get in trouble, but instead of punishing me, she started teaching me how to read music. Eventually, my teacher came to my home and urged my parents to send me to Pyongyang, North Korea’s capital, to pursue music with some of the country’s best musicians.
But my parents knew I could not achieve my dream. My grandfather had been a landowner before the North Korean regime took power. When the Korean War broke out, he had fled to the South, never to be heard from again. The regime didn’t forget my family’s past - to them, we were traitors. Before I was even born, my future had been decided.
I couldn’t attend a university or get a good job. While others studied, I would have to dig for coal and sell it.
One night, I was gathering firewood on a mountain near the South Korean border with another girl. In the distance, I saw a town that was dazzlingly bright in the dark evening. Electricity is a luxury in North Korea, and I soon realized I was looking across the border. I had secretly watched South Korean movies for years. I had seen the delicious food they ate and the amazing places they traveled. I stared at the lights and dreamed of what my life could be.
The dream was too powerful to ignore. I worked every day from sunrise to sunset to save money for my escape.
I gathered rare mushrooms on the slopes of North Korea’s tallest mountain, through the bitter cold. After sixty trips, I had enough money to hire a broker to help me escape into China.
But I trusted the wrong broker.
The broker betrayed us and sold us out. Soldiers were waiting for us at the meeting point and we were dragged from the river to an interrogation cell. The secret police want you to confess that you were trying to defect to South Korea. They beat you with a stick and slam your head against a wall until you just want the pain to stop. But if you confess, you’re sent to a political prison camp to die like an animal.
So I refused to say anything. They kept beating me and screaming at me, but I closed my eyes and held on to my dream of freedom. It was two weeks before they finally sent me to a detention center.
A woman in my cell told me about another broker who could help me escape. But there was a catch - I would have to be sold to a man in China.
I chose the unimaginable. I was sold for less than $3,000.
It is hard for me to talk about this time in my life. The man who bought me kept me in a small bedroom in his house. In one month, I was pregnant. When he found out, he told me to get an abortion. I refused. He tried to drug me and take me to get an abortion while I was unconscious.
One night I felt sick and thought it was food poisoning, but I was in labor and rushed to the hospital. After twenty hours, the doctor had to perform an emergency c-section. The man who bought me complained about the extra expense.
But when I woke up, there was my beautiful baby. I put her on my chest and knew she was my everything. My new dream was to give my daughter Mia a chance to have a better life than me.
I knew we couldn’t stay in China. The man who bought me didn’t want a child, and every day we stayed was another day we could get caught. But I couldn’t take a newborn baby on the dangerous journey. I waited until Mia was one year old, making secret plans with someone who could help us escape - now I know they were part of LiNK’s rescue network.
The day of our escape finally came, and we went to a safe house. I had Mia on my back and a bag full of diapers, clothes, and a small bracelet that was a gift for her. It was everything we had. We met up with other North Koreans, and they were not happy that Mia and I were joining them. I could not blame them. There were stories about groups that were caught because of a crying baby.
Taking care of a one year old is hard enough. Doing so while avoiding the Chinese police was one of the hardest things I have ever done.
I didn’t want Mia to cry so I never put her down, even when my back and arms ached from rocking her. We never stopped for more than a few hours so I had to breastfeed her along the way. Whenever we did have a break, I’d change her diapers, clean her, and make sure she ate enough. By the time I was done, we had to move again. I didn’t have time to eat so I went days with barely any food.
But every mile we traveled brought us closer to our new life. One hot morning, we climbed into a boat and crossed a river. With Mia in my arms, we were met by LiNK’s field team who welcomed us into freedom.
There are two days I will never forget. The day Mia was born and the day I arrived in the United States. I cried so much walking out of the airport. I had no idea what our new life would look like, but we were together and we were finally free.
Now when Mia falls asleep in my arms, all I feel is happiness. My story used to only be about my dreams, but now, I am watching my daughter grow into a fearless and curious person. If I never decided to escape and if I didn’t have LiNK’s help, Mia’s life would be so different. Instead of growing hungry, she has a full stomach. Instead of learning North Korean propaganda, she’s learning about science and animals and the world. Instead of fearing we could be sent to a political prison camp, I just worry she’s growing up too soon.
I believe that one day, every North Korean will be free. And every child will be able to write their own story, like my Mia.
Thanks to Holly’s bravery and the help of LiNK supporters around the world, Mia will never know a life without freedom. Holly will be leaving behind a legacy of freedom for her daughter and for generations to come.
You can help rescue more North Korean refugees and support them as they begin their new lives.
