I Watched K-Dramas Inside North Korea. They Gave Me the Courage to Escape | Hannah’s Story
How many times have you checked your phone today? Fifty? A hundred? Every time we look at the screen we are connected to the world around us and an endless stream of information—news, research, entertainment.
Now imagine waking up tomorrow in a place without the internet. A place where people are executed for sharing foreign media, and where families risk their lives just to stay in touch across borders.
For 26 million people in North Korea, this is their reality. And 7 years ago, I was one of them.
I was born in Hoeryong, a city in the northernmost part of North Korea near the Tumen River. Winters were brutal and there were frequent shortages of fuel and electricity.
My father was a high school physics teacher. He was quiet, loyal and diligent. His days started at 7am in the classroom and went late into the night, even on weekends. But despite his dedication, the monthly rations he received were not enough for our family.
So in order to survive, my mother began selling goods at the market. She wanted a better life for us, and that led her to do the unthinkable—escape North Korea. Three times she tried. Three times she was caught. Each time she was imprisoned and sent to a labor camp.
The prison camp was a living hell. My mother saw women waste away from hunger and die from simple illnesses. She was one of the lucky ones; her family brought her food and medicine, an act that made her a witness to the suffering of others.
I was just 13 when I first visited her, carrying a bowl of rice. In North Korea, it falls to families to provide for their imprisoned relatives.
Seeing my mother stand there like a criminal, her head bowed before the guard, I knew this wasn't right. I should have been in school, but instead, I was sneaking food to her, hiding from the stares of strangers.
We were being punished, but I didn't understand why. I felt wronged, and in my anger, I blamed her.
My mother had made a choice to save her family, but North Korean society saw her as a criminal. My father, who had led a quiet life as a teacher, was denied opportunities at work. Our family was labeled as traitors.
In 2013, on her fourth attempt, my mother finally escaped and made it to South Korea. She worked tirelessly to send money back to North Korea to help our family. She also slowly opened a window into another world.
Using a smuggled Chinese cell phone I was able to speak to my mother from time to time. And on our secret calls she shared with me new South Korean expressions and words she was learning. As she settled into a new society, despite numerous differences, she also recognized similarities between North and South Korea and its people, and reminded me that despite decades of division, we are still one people.
I secretly began watching South Korean sitcoms. I’ll never forget one called “High Kick 3.” In one episode, there was a story about a man who fell into debt and was being chased by collectors. But what shocked me was that his family wasn’t punished for it. In North Korea, if one person “sins” the entire family is condemned. But this showed me that in South Korea, life could be different. That even within a family, you were free to make your own choices.
This realization changed me and offered a glimpse of the vast world beyond North Korea. Information, even in the form of a sitcom, was hope. And it was worth risking everything for.
Meanwhile, I continued to face obstacles in my day to day life. I had learned how to code and use software like photoshop, and I dreamed of going to university after graduation. But because my mother had defected, I was rejected. So I used my computer skills to find work as a photographer and photo editor.
Hoping to advance my career, I volunteered for the "shock brigade," a group sent to do manual labor at dangerous construction sites. While others prayed they wouldn't get picked for this kind of work, I went willingly, thinking it could be my way to a promotion.
I was sent to the Samjiyon district, a place known for its harsh winters. For over a month, I demolished buildings in minus 40-degree weather without protective gear. Dust filled my lungs, and sweat froze my clothes solid. My only relief was being able to sleep in a crumbling basement.
When I returned, expecting the promotion I had been promised, my supervisor simply said, "Let's wait a little longer."
That was the moment I understood my mother. She had risked her life to escape because she was after something more fundamental than a better life. She wanted to live like a human being.
In 2019, I made the same choice and escaped. With the help of Liberty in North Korea, I made it safely to South Korea and reunited with my mom.
Freedom wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. In North Korea, my tech and computer skills had helped me survive. I had always thought that “no matter where I go, as long as I have a computer, I’ll be fine.” But in South Korea, I struggled with something as simple as a new keyboard layout. In school, subjects like social studies felt foreign because I had grown up in a completely different education system with distorted versions of history and philosophy. My dream of going to college suddenly felt impossible.
Eventually I found my place in science. The formulas and equations in math, chemistry, and physics were the constant, unchanging truths I could always count on.
I decided to major in electrical engineering. It was rare for North Korean defectors to pursue this field. But I was determined to stay ahead and not fall behind in our rapidly changing world. Now my goal is to become an engineer who can help bridge North and South Korea’s science and technology industries when the two countries are one again.
More than ever, I see that information isn’t just about knowledge and convenience—it’s a lifeline. Without access to information, you can’t see a way forward, let alone build a future.
And right now, the people I left behind are more cut off than ever before. During the pandemic, North Korea closed its borders to an unprecedented extent. Soldiers along the border had shoot-to-kill orders for anyone trying to escape. Around 90% of the markets were forced to shut down, leaving families with barely enough to eat. The UN reported that nearly half the population—12 million people—faced food insecurity, while the World Health Organization rated North Korea’s access to medical care as the lowest in the world.
A few years ago, when my father became very sick, I was able to send him money for medicine and hospital care. But most North Koreans don’t have that chance. Without someone on the outside, they are not only cut off from resources and information, but from hope itself. For many, their future depends on a lifeline from the outside world.
Supporting North Korean people and protecting human rights cannot be put off.
We have an opportunity to be a lifeline for people inside North Korea today. To remind them that they have not been forgotten. With your support, we can rescue and support more North Korean refugees, and get more outside information and technology to people inside the country. And that information can empower North Koreans to not only see a way forward, but to ultimately determine their own future.
Despite the risks, North Koreans are quietly accessing foreign media and learning about life in the outside world. Increasing their access to uncensored information is one of the most effective ways to increase change inside the country.
Liberty in North Korea partners with North Korean defectors and engineers, like Hannah, to develop technology, content, and tools tailor-made for the North Korea context. Our goal is to empower North Koreans with information about the outside world, increasing their aspirations for social and economic progress, and building pressure for change and opening.
Empower North Koreans with information access.
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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.
