From North Korea to South Korea: Under the Big Dipper
By: Hyeyoung Woon
Hyeyoung Woon is a financial accounting professional who escaped North Korea in 2009. Through essays based on personal experience, Hyeyoung shares reflections on life in North Korea, the journey of defection, and adaptation to a new society.
There was a time when the night sky felt like the only place I could hold on to.
I grew up in a small city in the northern part of North Korea. As a child, my happiest moments were simple. Every night, my mother would tell me stories while I searched for the seven stars of the Big Dipper above us. Those stars felt constant and comforting, quietly watching over me as I fell asleep.
When I was seven years old, everything changed. As the economy in the North worsened, my parents had to leave, and I was sent to live with my grandparents. I did not know when they would return. They promised it would be soon, and that they would bring candy if I waited patiently. At first, I believed them. But days became months, and months became years. Waiting quietly became part of my life.
Years later, I was briefly reunited with my mother. But she was no longer the same person I remembered. Prison and hardship had changed her in a way I could not fully understand. We promised never to separate again, yet one morning she disappeared once more.
All she left behind was a letter, promising that one day she would take me to South Korea. That promise became my direction.
A few years later, a broker secretly contacted me in the middle of the night. Hidden in the mountains, through an illegal phone call, I heard my mother’s voice for the first time in years. From that moment, I decided to leave everything behind, I decided to follow her path out of North Korea.
The journey out of North Korea was filled with fear. When I reached Beijing airport, I was terrified as I boarded the plane to South Korea. But, for the first time in my life, I felt like I was finally moving toward something, instead of simply waiting.
And then, after years of waiting, I found her.
For a while, life felt almost normal. My mother taught me how to survive in a completely new world: how to study, how to adapt, and how to build a future in South Korea. Everything around me felt unfamiliar, but I was no longer alone.
Then life changed again.
While I was in university, my mother was diagnosed with liver cancer and given only one year to live. It felt unbearably cruel. And yet, that final year together became one of the most meaningful years of my life.
Before she passed away, my mother had one wish: to tell her own mother, “I love you.”
But in North Korean culture, those words are rarely spoken, and by then, it was already too late. All I could do was share my memories of my grandmother with her. As I spoke, I watched her eyes brighten with memories she could no longer return to.
Exactly one year later, she passed away.
Once again, I was left alone.
For a long time, I did not know how to continue living after my mother passed away. I had risked everything just to follow her, and suddenly the person who had been my destination was gone. I was alone again.
But slowly, I began to move forward.
Years later, when I traveled abroad, I often wished she could see those places too. In every new city, I quietly imagined her beside me.
Even now, when I look up at the night sky, I still search for the Big Dipper. Thinking about that time, my mother and I used to look at those seven stars together.
So much in my life has changed since then.
Countries have changed.
People have disappeared.
And time has carried us into completely different worlds.
But the Big Dipper remains. Quietly shining above us.
Sometimes, when I look at those stars, I still feel connected to her.
As if, even now, we are somehow looking at the same night sky from different worlds.
And, maybe, that is why the Big Dipper still comforts me.
It reminds me that some people never completely leave us.
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Hyeyoung is a participant of the LiNK English Language Program (LELP), which serves to not only help North Korean defectors build confidence and skills in English, but develop their capacity as advocates for this issue. To that end, we partnered with select LELP “columnists” to write and polish personal essays through multiple rounds of external feedback and revision. Our goal is to have more North Koreans share their stories directly and lead efforts to change the narrative.
We believe the North Korean people can achieve their liberty in our lifetime.
Opportunities like LELP invest in the people building that future now. Help more North Koreans find their voice, reach their goals, and lead change on this issue.
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Trafficking and Exploitation of North Korean Refugees
For North Koreans hiding in China, repatriation is synonymous with death. Resolved to avoid such a fate, but with few options or protections, North Korean refugees are left vulnerable to a second wave of human rights abuses.
Among North Korean women and girls who escape to China, an estimated 60% have fallen victim to human trafficking.
Here are the stories of three women who have survived the unimaginable and are now advocating for this issue in freedom.
The Fear of Forced Repatriation
After Eunju fled from North Korea in 1999, she ended up spending years in China before finally reaching freedom.
“In China, North Korean defectors are exposed to various crimes, including sexual assault, human trafficking, forced prostitution, and labor exploitation. Those who seemed kind and willing to help were either traffickers or rapists. Promises of wages to be paid in the fall were replaced with threats—’You're from North Korea, aren't you?’
There is only one reason why the victims—North Korean defectors—remain silent: the fear of forced repatriation. This fear-driven silence perpetuates a vicious cycle of human rights violations against North Koreans in China.
On our first night in China, we were confronted with a trauma that would haunt us for a lifetime. As we walked along the road, not knowing where to go, a car slowed down and pulled up beside us. The door swung open, and someone grabbed my sister. My mother and I clung to her, desperate not to let go, but we couldn’t withstand the force of the accelerating car and were thrown aside. At the time, my sister was still just a young girl who had not even gone through puberty, yet she could not escape sexual violence. My mother couldn’t even bring herself to think about reporting the incident. She knew that if she went to the authorities, the Chinese police would capture us and send us back to North Korea before they ever caught the perpetrator.”
Soon after, Eunju’s mother was trafficked into a forced marriage together with Eunju and her sister, and they were sold for 2000 RMB (~$240 at the time).
Sold on the Way to Freedom
Hannah fondly remembers growing up with a large family in North Korea. But widespread food shortages forced her to leave her beloved hometown at 15 years old. When she finally managed to cross into China, she was trafficked and sold into a forced marriage.
“Do you remember what life was like when you were 15 years old? Maybe you were stressed about highschool, or getting your driver’s license. When I was 15 years old, I was sold to a man in China who was twice my age. For the first 6 months of captivity, I stayed away from him as much as I could. But in the end, there was nothing I could do to protect myself.”
“When I became pregnant, I couldn’t accept it because it wasn’t my choice. But then my baby arrived, and it all hit me. I wanted to give my daughter the same love I had grown up with. But I couldn’t do that without legal status or freedom. So with my one-month-old baby in my arms, I escaped once again.
Even though it was a very hard and dangerous journey, we ran together towards freedom, towards a future that guarantees our safety and hope.”
A Mother’s Impossible Choice
Joy fled from North Korea when she was 18 years old. When she reached China, the broker who arranged her escape went back on their word and immediately demanded to be repaid.
“She told me my only option was to be sold into marriage to a Chinese man so the brokers could take my bridal cost as payment. I couldn't even think of refusing because I was afraid they would do something bad to me or drop me off somewhere alone to get caught by the Chinese police and sent back to North Korea. At that point, I realized that I was trapped.”
Joy was sold to an older Chinese man for $3,000. She searched for any way to escape, but soon became pregnant and gave birth to her daughter. For two years, she raised her child and began to lose hope of ever reaching freedom.
Then in 2013, Joy was connected to LiNK’s network. She felt it was her last chance to take back control of her life. But she faced an impossible decision. Her daughter was still very young, and it would be incredibly risky to escape together. Ultimately, Joy decided to leave her behind.
“I cried every day thinking of my daughter. Before we started moving to get out of China I stayed with some other defectors…I didn't want to cry in front of [them], so I cried behind a curtain. I found another North Korean woman crying there because she also left her child. We ended up hugging each other and crying together.”
Stories of Hope
Eunju, Hannah, and Joy’s stories echo that of thousands of North Korean women who were sold on the way to freedom. But they’ve refused to let their painful experiences prevent them from living full lives, instead turning them into sources of strength, fueling their work on this issue.
Eunju is now living in South Korea with her mom and sister. She co-authored a book about her journey, A Thousand Miles to Freedom, with journalist Sebastein Falletti to make sure stories like hers are not forgotten.
Hannah is also in South Korea raising her daughter, who will never know a life without freedom. In 2022, Hannah joined LiNK’s Advocacy Fellows program to develop her capacity as a leader and advocate for this issue. She traveled across the US alongside other young activists, sharing her story at universities, churches, Fortune 500 companies, and with key stakeholders on Capitol Hill.
Joy was also a LiNK Advocacy Fellow in 2019. Today, her advocacy continues in the classroom, as an educator at an alternative school for the children of North Korean mothers. Some of her students were born in China while the mothers were in forced marriages—a circumstance that is deeply personal. Joy is beloved by the children, and strives to help them navigate their complex identities and relationships with their parents.
All the while, Joy has kept in touch with her daughter through video calls and messages. Last year, she was finally able to bring her daughter to South Korea!
What You Can Do to Help
The trafficking of thousands of North Korean women and girls is one of the most rampant and egregious human rights violations happening today. Yet it often does not get enough dedicated attention amidst all the dangers and abuses that North Koreans face—an alarming reminder of the gravity of this issue.
LiNK rescues North Korean refugees without cost or condition, and provides crucial resettlement support during this period of transition. We’re one of the only organizations still doing this work since the COVID-19 pandemic. To date, we've helped almost 1,400 North Korean refugees and their children reach freedom.
It is more urgent and important than ever that we carry on this work. Right now, our field team is actively in communication with North Korean refugees hiding in China, many of them women who were trafficked or sold into forced marriages, and coordinating their escape. Help bring them to safety and freedom.
