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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LiNK Statement on the Executive Order on Immigration and Refugees
Dear Friends,
We write today to provide an update on how the recent Executive Order (EO) on immigration and refugees will affect North Korean refugees and our work.
The EO suspends the U.S. Refugee Admissions Program globally for 120 days, for a review process to “determine what additional procedures should be taken to ensure that those approved for refugee admission do not pose a threat to the security and welfare of the United States” (Sec. 5.a).
North Koreans who have escaped the most repressive country in the world are not exempt from this suspension, meaning North Koreans seeking refuge in the United States will not be able to gain admission during at least the next four months. We know from experience that it is already not easy for North Koreans to gain refugee status to resettle in the United States as there is a strong vetting process currently in place. It can take many months, even over a year, and involves repeated in-depth interviews and screenings by various U.S. government agencies. We therefore believe it to be unnecessary and unfortunate to suspend the entire U.S. Refugee Admissions Program and further delay the start of these refugees’ lives in freedom.
We are proud of our work helping North Korean refugees in their escape and assisting them in reaching countries like the United States and South Korea where they can begin new lives in safety and freedom. We are thankful to all our supporters who have made this work possible and have welcomed these individuals into their communities. It has been incredible to see our North Korean friends here in America learn English, enroll in universities, get married and begin families, find gainful employment, and even start their own businesses.
A while ago we asked Anna--a North Korean refugee who we helped resettle in the US--her thoughts as she celebrated Independence Day. She said, "This country accepted me, embraced me, and gave me an opportunity to spread my wings."
Today, we renew our commitment to protecting North Korean refugees and to helping them resettle in societies where they can live in safety, freedom, and dignity and live fulfilling lives as valuable members of their new societies. Thank you, as ever, for your support.
