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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How a North Korean Defector Achieves His Dreams after Resettlement
Sang Hoon never had a place to call his own in North Korea, often spending his nights in the homes of his friends and relatives. His thoughts regularly drifted to faraway places and he imagined visiting the outside world. Sang Hoon had always been interested in other countries and hoped to work as a diplomat, but he was never able to follow his dream in North Korea.
His desire to leave his home country grew day by day until he could take it no more. After searching, he found someone to help him escape. Once in China, he connected with our network and made the journey to safety and freedom in South Korea.
Now, Sang Hoon is one of the most passionate, ambitious people we have the privilege to work with. As soon as he resettled, he began taking classes to learn how to use the computer. Most people take one class at a time, but Sang Hoon doubled up on classes and was able to get four computer certificates in very little time. He got a job at a research institute and continues to learn and strives to achieve his goals every day.Our resettlement coordinator Jihyun recently interviewed Sang Hoon. Read it below:
Jihyun What was the best thing that happened to you recently?
Sang Hoon: I bought a car after I saved up some money from working. My job requires a lot of traveling across South Korea, so I needed a car.
In North Korea, I could never even imagine having my own car because it is almost impossible for someone to own one unless they are a high-ranking government official. Even driving a car was something I could only dream about. It still feels surreal to be driving around with my own car in Seoul. I am very happy.
Jihyun You are one of the most positive people that I know. What makes you so positive?
Sang Hoon: I lived more than 40 years in North Korea and I lived for a quite short time in South Korea. The one thing I can say is this: compared to my life in North Korea, my life here is like heaven because I can make money and do my best to achieve my dreams and goals. I can even go travel abroad if I want.
In North Korea, even if the people try really hard, it is almost impossible for them to achieve their dreams and goals because of the way North Korean society is set up. So compared to North Korea, South Korea is a great society. I am thankful for it all the time because my dreams can come true if I try my best here.
I just wish I had come here earlier. If I had come in my 20s, I would’ve experienced more things and worked harder. However, I try to think of it as motivation.
I keep telling myself to study and work more than other people to make up for coming here in my late age. It is never too late.
Jihyun What were some challenges you had when you first resettled to South Korea?
Sang Hoon: When I first resettled to South Korea, I couldn’t get used to seeing young couples kissing each other and almost making out in public. (Laughs)
Seriously, when I first resettled in South Korea most necessities were covered by the government’s benefits for North Korean defectors, but still I felt a little overwhelmed by the reality that I would have to find a job on my own and make a lot of new decisions for the first time in my life. I learned about some job opportunities and how to get a job from Hanawon (the South Korean governmental resettlement facility) and Hana Center (the local resettlement assistance center run by the South Korean government).
However, I still felt like I didn’t have enough information to make informed decisions about my job and other things about my new life.
I didn’t know a lot of things about South Korean society or the words they used so even when I went on the Internet to find more information on my own, I didn’t know what words I should type in to find out the information I wanted to know. I didn’t know what to look up and look for.
Jihyun How did you try to overcome the challenges?
Sang Hoon: I came to South Korea by myself and I don’t have any family members who came before me, so I didn’t have anyone to ask questions about different jobs. So I humbled myself. I decided to learn from people working at Hanawon, Hana Center, and other organizations. I would ask a lot of questions to them regardless of whether they were younger or older than me. I also carefully listened to advice from other North Korean defectors who resettled before me. Through learning from other people, I became eager and positive. I went wherever I could learn.
Jihyun What were some of the new things you learned and got to do after you resettled to South Korea?
Sang Hoon: Using the Internet! On the Internet, I can get all information I want. It is so convenient.
I love the freedom of getting knowledge...being able to learn and study what I want. When I'm on the Internet, I feel connected with the world.
Jihyun What would you like say to other North Koreans defectors?
Sang Hoon: I want to encourage other North Koreans in the new society to not only enjoy their freedom, abundance, and new life, but to also be responsible for things in their lives. I know some North Korean defectors who only enjoy things, but don’t invest in themselves by studying or working hard. I think we should focus on resettling well in the new society through education or work first before we start enjoying things.
I also like traveling around and having fun, but I am waiting to do more of the fun stuff after I get more settled in my new job and new life. Also having gratitude! I want us to remember when things were so hard back in North Korea. That helps us stay positive and grateful for our new lives and freedom. Let’s not focus on only negative things so much.
Jihyun What would you like to say specifically to other resettled North Koreans who came to South Korea in their late age like you and who think it’s too late for them to start learning and trying new things here?
Sang Hoon: I want to tell them “do you remember when we were risking our lives to escape from North Korea and coming out of China? (I even brought a knife to kill myself just in case I got caught because I knew I would get horribly punished for a long time, maybe the rest of my life for escaping North Korea.) We risked our lives to come here. What are you afraid of? What can you not do in the new society where you don’t have to risk your life anymore?
Nothing can stop us pursuing our dreams and goals in the new society—not even our age!”
Jihyun What do you think of North Korea?
Sang Hoon: North Korea is still my home country where my family still lives and my ancestors are buried. However, because of all the human rights abuses, I don’t really want to think of it.
Jihyun What is your dream or goal in South Korea?
Sang Hoon: After I save up more money, I want to go to grad school. I know it won’t be easy to study in grad school at my age, but I want to challenge myself to try. Also I want to contribute to reunification of North Korea and South Korea with my background, experience, education, and work.
Jihyun What is the most important value in your life?
Sang Hoon: Education. I want to keep learning new things. This is one of the reasons why I want to go to grad school. I just want to continue learning from other people and books so I can keep improving myself. I really love the freedom of being able to learn what I want to learn.
Jihyun What is freedom to you?
Sang Hoon: Freedom is life because we need freedom to live.
Jihyun Lastly, what would you like to say to South Koreans?
Sang Hoon: I want to ask South Korean people to see North Korean people not as second-class citizens, but just people of the same ethnic group—Koreans. Please don’t treat us with stereotypes or stigma. We need more support from you and more people who can understand us. We want to be in harmony with you.
You can help other North Korean refugees escape China and resettle successfully by donating to our work.
