From North Korea to Seoul National University | Noah’s Story
The house was too small. There was nowhere to hide, and so we had to leave.
I was only 8 years old when my parents divorced. My father was a violent alcoholic, and every day he would beat my mother, sister, and me. North Korea’s laws didn’t protect us from him, so my mother tried to protect us instead. My father stabbed her in the lungs for it.
We were suffocating, but there was no one to save us. The police, the law, and the regime didn’t care. So we left.
First, from our hometown. We moved to a remote city to escape our father’s shadow, but North Korea is a patriarchal society so families like ours are looked down upon. All people saw was a divorced woman and her fatherless children. They didn’t see my mother, who came back from the brink of death to protect her children at all costs. They didn’t see my older sister, who ran her own business and worked away from home to support our family.
All we had was each other, and everything we had, we shared. I remember the snacks we used to buy, the delicious things my sister would bring home and split three ways. We endured 8 years like this, surviving hardships and prejudice with little bits of sweetness.
With no social welfare or food rations to depend on, we had no hope of escaping extreme poverty and hunger. We tried our best, but there were days when I went to school starving. One time, while the other kids were getting ready to eat lunch, I snuck out to forage in a nearby mountain. I found some unripe apricots and ate them to satisfy my hunger. After school that day, I ran home and found some rice porridge leftover in the pot. Without thinking, I ate it all, only to find out later that my mother had sold her clothes in exchange for the rice.
That was worse than the hunger–the helplessness as I watched my mother sell her beloved belongings one by one.
We were still suffocating in a country that told us to be small and silent. To live so invisibly, perhaps they hoped we’d disappear altogether. And so we did. We left North Korea, in search of somewhere with breathing room. Somewhere we wouldn’t have to run from again.
That was eight years ago. My family lives in South Korea now. Today, my mother, who fought hard to protect her two children in a place with no freedom or human rights, works as a school teacher for other refugee children. My sister has since graduated from nursing school and works as a full-time ICU nurse. They’ve never stopped being the strongest, most loving people in my life.
I’m here because they protected me. And now, I can protect them too.
I used to be a terrified, 8 year-old boy, who could only rely on his mother. Now, I’m her proud son, studying politics at Seoul National University – the most prestigious college in South Korea.
As I learn and grow, I’m able to understand my past and leverage it for a better future. The politics and systems that people live under, the environments and experiences that people carry with them – all of these things can be different. But in the end, we are all people. We set the standards for our freedom. We can be the ones who bring change.
When I think about how my family used to live and how we live now, it’s actually easier to remember the bright, happy moments in North Korea, because they were so few and far between. Now, happiness is happenstance – it’s everyday and mundane. And I realize that’s what it must mean to be free. That I know this sweetness will stay, and I can too.
Noah was part of our 2022 class of Advocacy Fellows, a program that supports and develops the next generation of North Korean leaders, storytellers, and advocates. For three months, he traveled across the United States, sharing his story at universities, Fortune 500 companies, embassies, thank-tanks, and The White House. Ultimately, Fellows are working to bring a greater focus to the North Korean people and human rights issues rather than just politics.
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A Little Story about How the Media Gets North Korea Wrong
The North Korean government did not tell the people to prepare for another famine, but you probably saw headlines like this in the last week.
Here's how a mere mention of the 'arduous march' in the North Korean state media blew up and was incorrectly reproduced by media around the world in the space of a couple of days:
On March 28th, an essay by two North Koreans, Park Ok-kyoung and Choi Yoo-il, was published in the Rodong Sinmun (North Korea’s main paper). It included a passage, which roughly translates to “The road of the revolution is long and tough. There may again be times that call for chewing grass roots during an arduous march, and times that call for fighting the enemy single-handedly on a far-flung island...but we have to keep our single-minded loyalty for our dear marshal to the very end even if it costs our lives...”
The reference to the 'arduous march', the same term used to label the North Korean famine of the 1990s, caused a lot of excitement. But the term predates the 1990s famine. The original ‘arduous march’ was actually in 1938-39. It was a supposedly tough period of time that Kim Il-sung's band of guerrilla fighters had to 'march' through to victory in their fight against the Japanese occupiers. This tale credits Kim Il-sung for the defeat and is a classic 'struggle through adversity to final victory' type of story. So when times got tough in the 1990s, the official propaganda machine kicked in and framed it as a national struggle through adversity on the way to a final victory.
It was also about maintaining autonomy in the face of external threats, which was the context for this piece. The piece was meant to build up to the Party Congress in May, which is a massive political event that requires 'ideological preparation of the masses'.
So did the North Korean government tell the North Korean people to prepare to chew grass to survive another famine? Or to prepare to fight the enemy all by themselves on a far-off island? Not particularly. They basically said that the North Korean people must stick with their leader, even if things get tough, and all shall be overcome. And it also wasn't written in the name of Kim Jong-un (that would make it more of a story), but in the name of two individuals writing for the paper.
So, why did this happen?
Far too few journalists can read Korean, let alone know how to read and interpret North Korean propaganda. But there's a lot of international appetite for stories about North Korea. So once a piece like this gets out that makes sense to journalists with a peripheral awareness of North Korea, it is easy for it to bounce around the global media echo chambers, getting picked up by many outlets without any accuracy check on the interpretation.
Furthermore, the North Korean government isn’t going to come out and correct it. Here's where there is some truth in the statement "when it comes to North Korea news, anything goes." At this point it becomes something that ‘happened’ without actually happening.
On a brighter note, thanks to the deeper economic and food security resilience built up by the bottom-up marketization, private-plot farming, and linkage to the Chinese economy, a recurrence of a famine on the scale of the 1990s is extremely unlikely in North Korea now.
[Post edited on 2016-04-11 for clarity and accuracy]
