Humans of North Korea: YuSung
The North Korean government made my entire senior class work in the fields during the planting season.
For 40 days straight, we didn’t go to school. We just planted rice in the countryside from dawn to dusk. Even though I hated the work, some of my fondest memories are from that time. I hung out with my friends a lot because we all lived and worked together. We’d sing songs and sneak out to steal corn and potatoes when we were hungry. Then we’d roast them and share them with each other. I loved the feeling of disobeying the rules together.
We’d also hang out with the girls. I had the biggest crush on this one classmate. She had the palest skin and long black hair. In school, it was her job to clean the portraits of the leaders. Every morning she’d take her shoes off and stand on the desk while she wiped the frame with a special cloth. She looked like this beautiful statue standing over the class. It was the highlight of my day watching her do that and I looked forward to seeing her every morning.
She was my first love and while working in the fields I told her how much I liked her. After that, I started stealing corn just for her and we would laugh and talk together. 40 days seemed to go on forever. But the planting season ended and I stopped going to school soon after that because there were rumors my father had defected. I never got to say goodbye and I still think about her and wonder how she’s doing.
"If I saw her today I would walk up to her with a piece of roasted and corn and just say “remember me?”
After my father left for South Korea, the police came to question me and mom nearly everyday. We had to pretend that we had no idea where my dad was even though we knew exactly where he was. The police would sometimes interrogate us for hours waiting for us to slip up. I was still a teenager but I knew that I had to fake my emotions. I would beg the police to find my father and tell them how worried I was that he was missing.
"If I had told them the truth, they would have arrested us immediately.
”We left North Korea a year after my dad made it to South Korea. The police wouldn’t leave us alone so we first went to stay with my grandma. One of our neighbors agreed to let us know when it was safe enough to leave for good. The police bugged our phone so she had to speak in code. One day she called and said “The price of beans has been steadily going down” which meant it was time. When we got that message we left North Korea a few days later. All we had was a small bag and some money with us.
My father is a great photographer and he took a lot of photos in North Korea. We couldn’t bring even a single one with us.
It saddens me to think about all the family photos that are probably gone forever. I wish we just had one.
The first time I saw my father again was in Hanawon (South Korean resettlement center for newly arrived North Koreans). I couldn’t say anything and just started crying because he was crying. He brought me strawberries and the first thing he said to me was “eat this strawberry”.
I had never seen a strawberry that big and my first words to him in years were “Are these real strawberries?!”.
— Yusung Park, escaped North Korea in 2008
Walking Forward with Brightness | Joseph’s Story: Part 2
That semester, for the first time in my life, I received an academic award for excellence and made the dean’s list at school. I went on to graduate from high school and study political science at Bard College. After my undergraduate studies, I had the honor to work for former President George W. Bush, who had made it possible for me and other North Koreans to come to America as refugees. Over the years, he has became a personal role model and friend.
Today, I am pursuing a master's degree in Public Administration at the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard University. At Harvard, I’ve met people from all different walks of life. When I met students on government scholarships or born into generational wealth, I did not envy them because I have a dream that is bigger than me and bigger than my life.
But when I met a classmate from Ghana, it was the first time I felt envious. He said, "Kim, I’m learning so much here, and I can’t wait to take these skills and knowledge back home to improve my country after graduation."
I envied him for having a home he could return to. For having the opportunity to try, fail, fail again, and eventually make a difference in his homeland.
I, too, dream of the day when I can finally return to North Korea—when it is a place where every man, woman, and child is free to live with dignity, to learn about the world, and to shape their own identity - one that is not given or defined by the government.
In a free North Korea, I dream of returning to my home in Hoeryong—the last place we were a family together, to see if the pear tree my father had planted is still there.
In a free North Korea, I dream of teaching high school students in my hometown and caring for orphans. My students will attend Harvard University and be able to say, “I’m learning so much, and can’t wait to use these skills to improve my country.”
I know that my dreams might sound impossible, but being here in the US, sharing my story with you should have been impossible. You’re looking at someone who survived a famine, escaped North Korea in broad daylight; an elementary school drop out who is attending the best university in the world, and a former refugee who today serves on the board of the organization that helped him reach freedom.
Since its founding, LiNK has helped nearly 1,400 North Koreans escape to freedom. These aren’t just numbers—they are people like me. Individuals and families whose lives were transformed and whose future generations will only know what it means to live in freedom.
Thank you for standing with us, for your unwavering commitment to the protection, rescue and resettlement of North Korean refugees, and for investing in our future through programs that equip our community with skills and confidence to define our own success and contribute to the change we dream of for North Korea.
No organization has done more to partner, support, empower, and believe in the North Korean people than Liberty in North Korea. It is truly a special organization, and I don’t say this because I have to, now that I sit on the board. To do the work that we do requires an immense level of trust and respect, which begins from the moment North Korean people connect with LiNK and is evident through the actions of the staff, the wisdom of the board, the passion of student chapters, and the incredible commitment of our donors.
From afar, North Korea looks like a country as dark as the sea at night. But it is not a land of darkness, merely a land with darkness. There is suffering and hardship, but there is also unimaginable beauty, immeasurable resilience, and 25 million people who have to choose hope every day.
I know that the journey to freedom cannot be made alone. I am no longer a child. I am wiser today. But that doesn’t mean I have everything figured out. I choose to walk forward not because of the things I am certain about, but in spite of everything I am uncertain about. I choose to walk forward with brightness and hope—for my family, for my people, and for my homeland.
And I hope you will walk with me until finally, we can walk into a free North Korea together.
Read part 1 of Joseph’s story about his escape and arrival in the United States
In freedom, Joseph’s constant striving has led him down a path of extraordinary achievement. Yet in his mind, each opportunity was just the next best way for him to grow his capacity to work on this issue. To have him join the organization's Board of Directors as the first North Korea-born member is truly a full circle moment.
The North Korean people have the same brightness and potential as Joseph. Help make this kind of story possible for more of them.
