I Left North Korea As a Child. My Life’s Work is to Return Home to a Free Country | Rose’s Story
As a child in North Korea, I loved quiet, warm mornings. At dawn, I’d wake to the sound of breakfast being made in the kitchen. When my feet grew cold, I’d burrow deeper into my grandfather's blanket. A day that began with the smell of a home-cooked meal was nothing special then—just an ordinary morning.
Growing up, I lived with my grandparents. We worked the fields together, swam in the Yalu River side by side, and grew tomatoes, eggplants, and cucumbers in a small garden. In the summers, my cousins and I played in the mountains and gathered wild strawberries. Every fall, I always looked forward to the corn harvest.
This was the world I knew, and I was quite happy with it.
My mother's work as a broker—helping families separated by the border reunite or at least connect via phone—and her other job selling smuggled CDs containing Korean dramas eventually led to her arrest. She was released quickly but was placed under close surveillance. With no other way to support our family, she made the difficult decision to defect. It was a choice made easier, she later told me, by the countless South Korean dramas she had watched over the years that offered a glimpse into a life outside North Korea.
One winter vacation, my mother said, "Let’s go on a trip." I could barely contain my excitement. I had rarely ventured far from my hometown and thought I was finally traveling somewhere new. My grandmother gave me a warm boiled egg and told me to be safe. I didn’t know that would be the last time I would ever see her.
The journey never stopped. We left in winter and ended up in Southeast Asia, where summer never ends. Only then did I realize this trip was an escape. And it was only one-way.
When we finally arrived in South Korea, I couldn’t accept my new reality. I was only a child, but in my heart, I knew I’d never see my grandparents again. It felt like a cruel trick.
But life carried on, and I found myself adapting to South Korean society pretty quickly. I changed my accent and learned things by asking friends. Even at a young age, I instinctively felt the need to fit in. I was proud of myself for not looking or sounding like a North Korean.
Then one day in our elementary school classroom, the topic of North Korea came up. At that moment, I felt everyone’s eyes on me.
Although no words were spoken, the silence between me and my classmates felt like a wall.
As much as I tried to push it away, that feeling continued to follow me. In middle school, while watching a soccer game with friends and cheering for South Korea, someone said, “Shouldn’t you be rooting for North Korea?” I felt the color drain from my face. Once again, I felt the gap between me and them. And I wondered if I could ever close the distance.
Years later, in university, a professor mistakenly thought my South Korean friend was North Korean. She strongly denied it and took great offense, demanding a formal apology from the professor. Seeing her reaction, I wondered what it said about me. This incident left a deep scar on my heart.
As time went on, I realized that I wasn’t as well-adapted as I thought. I had been living my life avoiding who I was. Whenever the topic of North Korea came up in conversation, I cringed and tried to change the subject. When my family in North Korea would secretly call us, I would hang up the phone after a brief greeting, afraid I’d burst into tears. I couldn’t face how much I missed them, because I didn’t want to accept that I may never see them again.
Amidst these complex emotions, I began my work on North Korean human rights. I wanted to change how North Koreans were portrayed as “pitiful,” or “dangerous.”
But doing this work scared me at first. If I shared my story, would people look at me again with those silent, disapproving eyes? Then I began to understand something important—those fears came from my own hidden prejudice. If I believed that North Koreans would only be seen in a certain way, didn’t that also mean it was how I saw them?
Confronting the deepest parts of myself allowed me to finally embrace who I was. I stopped hiding, and began to explore the thoughts and feelings I had suppressed for so long.
In 2022, I took part in Liberty in North Korea’s Co-Creators program. It’s a unique opportunity for North and South Korean students to work together on advocacy projects. Our team’s project was called “North Korea Travel.” We highlighted different regions of the country and shared facts about life there, leading naturally into conversations about human rights.
As I worked on this project, it occurred to me how much I actually didn’t know about my own country. Due to the regime’s strict restrictions on movement, I never traveled beyond my hometown until the day I left North Korea for good. When I explained this to participants, they listened attentively and said it was their first time learning about it.
Their sincerity caught me off guard. I realized that prejudice often does not come from malice, but simply from a lack of knowledge and understanding.
After that experience, I knew I wanted to continue creating moments of connection and understanding about North Korea. I figured the perfect way to reach people would be through the medium I know best: architecture.
For my graduation project, I designed a North Korean Human Rights Memorial Hall. I chose Imjingak, near the DMZ, as the symbolic location. The space I conceptualized commemorates the sorrow of separation, and allows visitors to experience the "surveillance," "chaos," and "oppression" North Koreans face in their daily lives.
The Pantheon in Rome directs our gaze toward the sky. I turned that idea upside down. In my design, the ceiling collapses into the ground, trapping people beneath, like the crushing weight of the regime’s oppression.
On the opposite wall, the names of loved ones are carved into stone, representing those we miss dearly. Before politics, before ideology, these are mothers and fathers, grandparents and children. This is a space where people can freely miss and yearn for the people they left behind. And it is a reminder that North Korea is home to our families, friends and neighbors.
Last year, when I visited the Holocaust Memorial in Washington DC, I felt that it was more than just a commemorative site. It was a space that showcased how to confront humanity's darkest history to ensure that such things are never repeated again.
Standing there, I hoped that one day, the human rights abuses faced by North Koreans would also just be a memory for us to reflect on.
I no longer hide my identity. My story began in North Korea, in a beautiful city by the Yalu River. Even now, on quiet mornings, my thoughts drift back to my grandparents’ house. I want the world to see North Korea like I do—through the warmth of ordinary days and the humanity of its people.
I dream of returning home one day, when all North Koreans can live free and full lives. Until then, I will continue to speak through the language of space and the power of stories.
The Universal Declaration of Human Rights begins with this: "all human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights." These aren’t just words on paper, but a reality that we can create together.
Please join me today to advance freedom and human rights for all North Koreans.
In 2025, Rose traveled across the US, sharing her story and advocating for the North Korean people as a LiNK Advocacy Fellow. Our capacity-building programs are cultivating the next generation of North Korean activists and leaders who are bringing change to their homeland.
Help empower more North Korean refugees with opportunities to grow, like Rose.
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North Koreans Learning English | Interview with LELP Student & Volunteer
As North Korean refugees resettle in South Korea’s competitive society, conversational English ability has been identified as a top need for personal and professional growth.
The LiNK English Language program (LELP) has become a mainstay in our efforts to help build the capacity of North Koreans as agents of change. Students are matched 1:1 with volunteer tutors from all around the world, leading to customized practice, conversations that break down barriers, and connections that will last a lifetime. In addition to weekly virtual study sessions, the program includes in-person bonding activities and a semesterly speech contest.
Spring 2024 has been the program’s biggest semester yet with 156 participants, including 78 North Korean students and 78 volunteers! Meet Stella, a North Korean student pursuing her PhD in Economics, and Cydney, a long-time LELP volunteer from the United States.
Please briefly introduce yourselves and share how you first met!
Stella - Hi, I’m Stella from North Korea. I’m currently living in South Korea and working towards getting my PhD in Economics.
Cydney - I’m Cydney, I’m from the US. I’ve been in South Korea for four years, teaching English at a hagwon. I’ve been a volunteer with LELP for two years now.
Stella - I don’t exactly remember when we met, it’s been so long!
Cydney - I think it was at the LELP hiking event! That was our first time meeting in-person.
Stella - Right, I was a little nervous then.
Cydney - Now we meet up all the time, going out for drinks and finding new places to check out in Seoul.
What has been your favorite activity during the program?
Stella - I really enjoy the speech contest. I can share my story and everyone is so attentive - the other North Korean students, volunteers, and LiNK staff. At other places, they’ll give you fixed questions that you have to answer. But LiNK gives you complete control over what you want to talk about.
People say North Koreans come from a prison, and sadness is the primary emotion. But in my experience, there is happiness even in the small things. I love to talk about those stories, my childhood memories.
First I’ll write my speech in Korean, and then I’ll write it again in English with Cydney’s help. I say what I want to express and she’ll help me.
Cydney - Sometimes I’ll write five different sentences and explain the nuances to Stella, and then she’ll go ‘okay that one, that’s how I want to say it.’
Stella - The days leading up to the speech content, I have so many feelings and emotions while I’m busy preparing. But afterwards, I feel a sense of relief. I love it because by sharing my story, I’m realizing new things about myself.
Cydney - I’m usually crying when she finishes delivering her speech. I’m just so happy and proud of all her hard work, and she’s so good at it. Hearing the speeches of the other students is also always so inspiring.
Is there a moment or everyday interaction where you felt LELP helped you?
Stella - Yes, there is. This semester I’m taking a microeconomics seminar and the class goes into English all the time. The professor asks us questions, and we have to answer in English. If I wasn’t part of LELP, then I would have never thought about raising my hand and talking with confidence. Even if my grammar isn’t perfect, I can still comfortably share my thoughts.
What are your dreams or goals?
Stella - I have a big dream. I want to be a professor someday, at the undergraduate or graduate level. More than just teaching a certain topic or subject, I hope to instill in my students a love of learning. That’s what my teacher back in my hometown did for me. I’ve been able to come this far because of her, and she continues to inspire me to this day.
In North Korea, education opportunities are limited. But my teacher always tried to help me. She told us that if we had big dreams, then we can grab the chance to make it happen. She taught me a lot of things, about life and to see more than our current circumstances. I think about her all the time, even now, and I want to be like her - a good teacher and a good person.
I consider this my third chance at life. First I just survived in North Korea, and second in China. Now in South Korea, I can finally live freely.
Cydney - I love this story. Since I know Stella wants to be a professor, I also asked why, and she shared her memories from growing up in North Korea. Knowing that she’s wanted to do this for so long, it just makes sense.
As for my future goals, I don’t have anything concrete like teaching, but I want to help people. I want to use all the things I learn and that I’m interested in to help people find themselves. LELP has given me a great opportunity to meet new friends from different backgrounds and be a part of this meaningful cause as a volunteer.
Has being part of this program changed your perspective on North Korea?
Cydney - Yes, definitely. Before LiNK, I had read a lot of books and biographies from North Koreans. With that kind of exposure, you hear a lot of the hard stuff. Very inspirational stories about incredible people, but tough to read. I wanted to get a bigger picture of the issue, and that naturally led me to LiNK. After volunteering with LELP for two years, my perspective has not just changed, but really expanded.
I’ve had a lot of conversations with Stella where the contexts of what we’re talking about could not be more different, but our experiences are very much the same. It’s brought this universal view of people doing their best to live their lives, and connecting over it.
Stella - A lot of times, people want to hear hard stories from North Koreans. If you talk about your happiness, they ask ‘Why are you here then? You can go back there.’ It always surprises me - how can they say something like that? People living anywhere, have both happy times and difficult situations. But they don’t want to hear positive things from North Korea, they just want to hear that you were living in hell.
But LiNK is different. I feel like I can just talk comfortably. It has made me want to continue this program. Other places have a political focus but LiNK doesn’t, just real human stories.
Cydney - It’s one of my favorite things about how LiNK shares stories of North Koreans. They don’t shy away from the hardship, but they’re showing happy, thriving people and smiling faces. It’s not, ‘come to our page to learn about our sadness,’ but ‘learn about these real people whose experiences we want to share.’
Did LiNK’s program further your interest in sharing North Korean stories and experiences?
Stella - Actually we planned it, we talked about her drawing pictures and me writing the stories.
Cydney - It’s still very much in the talking phase, but it’s been my dream to make a webtoon! We’ve thought about creating one together about a little North Korean girl and sharing Stella’s experiences through this format.
My undergraduate degree was in history, so I spent a long time studying situations similar to what happens in North Korea. It’s hard for me to know that I live in a time where people go through such things, especially people close to me, like Stella. I think what LiNK does is so important because it’s trying to change the narrative and what the history of North Korea will be. If I can have any part of it, I want to do what I can.
What is something that each of you learned from each other?
Stella - Cyndey is just such a strong person. Before I met her, I thought I was strong, but we shared our stories and I’m so amazed by her determination. She’s alone here in South Korea, with a different language and culture, but she never complains. She always tries to make the best of life and find happiness.
Cydney - I lived in the States, then I lived in China, and then in Korea. So there have been a lot of cultural challenges. The longer I’m here, I realize, ‘Oh, the things that I’m culturally used to are so different here that it’s starting to weigh on me.’ In those times, it’s been so great to talk to Stella.
That’s something we relate closely on, actually, both having to learn to live in South Korea.
She’s become one of my closest friends and we spend 90% of our time together just laughing. She’s so ambitious. I watch her do everything she can to reach her goals, and I think to myself, ‘I can do that too.’
Stella - I’m still reflecting on my experiences, so sometimes I try to find therapy but it hasn’t really helped me. But talking with Cydney has. She listens without judgment, and feels with me. So it’s become not just studying English together, but I feel healed with her.
Thank you for making programs like the LiNK English Language program possible. Every day, we see the impact that opportunities like this have in the lives of our North Korean friends, and members of this global movement.
Help us ensure that the LELP can continue, improve, and expand in the years to come.
