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.
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A Day at Work with Ji Min and Hyun Kyung
Ji Min and Hyun Kyung recently started working at a food wrapping/delivery company that employs resettled North Koreans. The company buys organic potatoes, fruits, and vegetables from local farmers, and then wraps and delivers them to middle and high school cafeterias.
Ji Min and Hyun Kyung gave our resettlement coordinator Jihyun a tour of their workplace. Though it was their day off, they showed him how they would usually work so the photographer could take photos.
Jihyun: Thanks so much for showing us your workplace and demonstrating how you would usually work.
Ji Min: My pleasure. You know, I am usually not a big fan of getting my picture taken, especially since my family is still in North Korea. However, I am so happy to do this. If my story and pictures can help bring more attention to the North Korean issue so that LiNK will get more support and more North Korean people can achieve freedom through LiNK’s work, I feel like this is something I ought to do. You know, I always want to give back in return for what I have received. LiNK and LiNK’s supporters rescued me when I was in such a dangerous situation in China. I want more North Korean people to benefit from LiNK’s work.
Jihyun: What is the best thing that happened to you recently?
Ji Min: When it snowed for the first time this winter, I felt happy because snow reminds me of my hometown in North Korea. We get a lot of snow in North Korea compared to South Korea.
Recently, I got complimented by my boss for doing something well. You know, since I started working here, I have made some mistakes especially because I didn’t know some vegetables like parsley and broccoli. I had never seen them or heard of them until I started working here, so I got a bit discouraged during the first few weeks. And then, when no one else noticed that some expensive fruit was just sitting outside because someone forgot to put it onto a truck, I spotted the fruit on the ground and told my boss about it so we could save the fruit. If I hadn’t seen it, it would’ve been just thrown away or something. Yes, after all the mistakes I made, I did this so I got a compliment from my boss. It was so encouraging. You know what? No matter how old you are, getting a compliment is still very good (laughs).
Jihyun: What was your biggest challenge in North Korea?
Ji Min: Besides not having enough food and clothes, I really didn’t like that human rights and freedom of speech didn’t exist in North Korea. I could just get by with not having enough food and clothes, but I couldn’t stand my rights and freedom being taken away by the North Korean regime.
Hyun Kyung: I didn’t like the brutality of the North Korean regime. They cruelly punished people who said a single word against the regime. It was so scary.
Jihyun: What's your biggest challenge in South Korea?
Ji Min: I know that not every South Korean person is like this, but there are some South Korean people who have negative stereotypes and prejudices about people from North Korea like me. They sometimes treat me and other North Koreans like second-class citizens, looking down on us. I get very discouraged when that happens to me or other North Koreans.
Hyun Kyung: I am always concerned about my children left in North Korea. It is very difficult to call them, even through brokers, these days. I would never want to think anything about North Korea if my children were with me in South Korea. It is very painful not being with them and not being able to hear their voices on the phone. When I get so sad because of my children, I try to not think about them by working hard. Fortunately, I like what I do at my workplace, so it helps.
Ji Min: I miss my family too. After I came to South Korea, I realized how happy it was just to be with my family looking at their faces whether or not we had enough food or clothes back in North Korea.
Hyun Kyung: Whenever I am having a hard time in South Korea, I tell myself that I shouldn't give up for my children. I must successfully resettle in South Korea, so I can bring them here as soon as possible.
Jihyun: What is it like living in freedom in South Korea?
Hyun Kyung: I am just so thankful for many things. I love the work I do here because it perfectly complements my personality and the way I work (smiling). Among all kinds of new freedoms I have now, I really appreciate the freedom of movement. I like that the public transportation system in South Korea is so good that I can easily go wherever I want.
Ji Min: It is like going from an extreme to the other extreme. My life has radically changed since I came to South Korea. Now, I have freedom and rights I can enjoy.
A funny thing is that back in North Korea even the North Korean constitution states that the North Korean people have freedom and rights, but in real life there is no freedom and rights in the country.
Jihyun: What is something that you started to do in South Korea that you never did before?
Ji Min: I never even dreamed of driving a car in North Korea and after I came to South Korea I got a driver’s license. It feels so good whenever I get to drive a company truck. I always ask myself, “If I was still in North Korea, would I ever be able to drive?”
Jihyun: What should people do in order to remove the stereotypes/prejudices toward North Koreans?
Ji Min: There should be more proper education about North Korea in schools in South Korea. Especially younger South Korean people don’t know about North Korea and North Korean people. I think that is because students in South Korea don’t learn about North Korea and the people properly. Also the students need to know how to differentiate the North Korean regime and the people.
The lack of education on North Korea causes a lot of misunderstanding and indifference toward the North Korean issue and the people. I know that some South Koreans don’t even welcome resettled North Koreans here like me. This is very concerning. I think many South Koreans see reunification and the North Korean issue only as economic issues. They think that reunifying with North Korea and having more resettled North Korean refugees in South Korea won’t be beneficial for them.
Jihyun: What advice would you give to a friend who just arrived in South Korea?
Ji Min: You might get overwhelmed by so many new things and different kinds of jobs you can choose from in South Korea. Try to evaluate yourself (things like your experience, abilities and family situation) from an objective perspective and then choose what you want to do. If you start working, try to work at job as long as possible. Don’t quit your job too quickly.
Hyun Kyung: Yes, I agree! Don’t change jobs too often.
Jihyun: What are your hopes for the new year?
Hyun Kyung: Reunification! Or at least opening up of the North Korean society so I can see my children. I believe if the society opens up, the living conditions of the people in the country will get better.
Ji Min: Realistically, I hope I can work at my current company as long as possible without too much trouble. I hope both me and my company will do well next year.
And…yes, I hope I can see my children somehow. I really want to see them. I really do.
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