Life in Freedom: A Conversation with Brian
For many years, Brian lived a charmed life in North Korea. He had a loving family, a university education, and a full stomach, but everything changed when the government stopped providing rations and wages for work. To make extra money, Brian's father began working as a broker, helping desperate North Koreans escape to China.
When his father was outed in a newspaper for helping a high profile defector escape, the entire family was put in danger. Brian's parents immediately fled to China. He followed soon thereafter, but was captured upon arrival by Chinese police. He spent the next two weeks in a detention center in China, where he was routinely beaten. Thankfully, LiNK was able to pay for his release so he could avoid repatriation.
Since resettling in South Korea, Brian's been very busy. He began attending university shortly after he arrived, hoping to become a journalist in the future so he can write about North Korea for an international audience. This year, he got married to another North Korean defector and they're now expecting their first child.
Our resettlement coordinator Jihyun was able to catch up with Brian recently to talk about what his life has been like since resettling.
Jihyun: What is the best thing that happened to you this week?
Brian: My pregnant wife and I found out that we are having a daughter! Yeah, we are so happy!I felt so bad watching my wife going through morning sickness. She couldn’t eat properly until recently.
Jihyun: So did you not eat when she couldn’t eat because you felt so bad for her?
Brian: Oh, no. I still ate well, because...you know, I was hungry. Haha.
Jihyun: Oh yeah, I understand. Of course you had to eat well so you could protect and take good care of her when she couldn’t eat. (Brian, his wife, and the photographer laugh.)
Jihyun: What was the most difficult thing when you got out of Hanawon (resettlement center for North Korean defectors)?
Brian: When I first graduated from Hanawon, I still had a thick North Korean accent so people looked at me whenever I started talking, which made me so uncomfortable.
Jihyun: What was your biggest challenge in North Korea? What's your biggest challenge in South Korea?
Brian: In North Korea I didn’t have a lot of difficulty because I was lucky to have a well-off family there. In fact, after I came to South Korea I started having a lot of difficulties because I had to adjust to the new society.
I think getting a job is one of the most difficult challenges for many resettled North Korean refugees. Especially since I am about to graduate from college and have a wife and a baby coming, I feel a little pressure. I just want more South Korean companies to hire more resettled North Koreans without discrimination/stereotype. I have heard from many of my North Korean friends that they have a hard time getting jobs because many companies have negative stereotypes about North Korean people, so they don’t want to hire North Korean candidates.
I am not saying that they have to hire us because we are from North Korea, but I want more companies to willingly hire us if we are qualified regardless of our background.
Also, I believe North Korean defectors in South Korea are still underprivileged in society and have a lot of obstacles. I hope there will be more effective job training and employment programs until more resettled North Koreans settle down in their specific work fields.
Jihyun: What is it like living in freedom in South Korea?
Brian: I really appreciate the freedom that I have here. In some of my college classes, I got to study the South Korean constitution that guarantees our freedom. There are so many types of freedom that I can enjoy. I can’t even count them because there are so many. One thing is the freedom of traveling anywhere I want. Back in North Korea, even traveling to another area was so difficult. Here, as long as I don’t cause trouble or break the law, no one can take away my freedom of movement.
Jihyun: Have you helped any other defectors resettle in South Korea? How?
Brian: Well, I wish I could do more, but right now what I can do is to help other resettled North Korean refugees who want to go to college by sharing my experience and giving them useful tips and advice about college life.
Jihyun: Have your perceptions of Americans and South Koreans changed?
Brian: In North Korea I didn’t really think South Koreans were very different than us because I thought we were all Koreans—the same blood. However, my perception of Americans changed a lot especially after I met LiNK staff and learned about LiNK's supporters.
I used to think Americans were so weird and selfish, because that was how I was taught about Americans in North Korea.
When I was caught by the Chinese police in China, LiNK helped me so much to be released and come to South Korea. I was so moved by that.
Jihyun: What advice would you give to a friend who just arrived in South Korea?
Brian: I want to share everything I have learned with him. I would say to him that he has to do what he wants. There are many options that you can choose for what you are going to do in this new society. If you don’t want to regret your decision in the future, you have to do what you like.
Jihyun: How often do you think about North Korea? What do you think about?
Brian: Not quite often, but I start thinking about North Korea when I am stressed out about my studies or finding a job, because I didn’t really worry about those kinds of things back in North Korea. When I am thinking of North Korea, I usually picture hanging out with my friends there. We played a lot of games, including card games. Also I liked drinking with my good friends too, haha.
Lastly I want to take this chance to say thanks to LiNK staff, volunteers, and supporters. I always appreciate them and thinking about them gives a lot of hope and motivation to do my best for my life.
A North Korean Refugee’s Journey - Pursuit of the Freedom to Learn
By Yukyung Lim
Yukyung is a participant of LiNK’s Intensive English Program (LIEP), designed to build the capacity of North Korean English speakers at the intermediate level. In partnership with the British Council, LIEP aims to cultivate participants’ communication and critical thinking skills in English. LIEP is complementary to our broader LiNK English Language Program (LELP), which supports speakers of all proficiency levels.
I was born in North Korea—a place where identities are imposed, voices are silenced, and dreams are tightly confined. There, schooling is not a pathway to opportunity but a means of indoctrination, designed to enforce obedience and suppress individuality. But thanks to my mother’s courage, I never had to undergo that system. She made the bold decision to keep me out of school in North Korea. At age eight, I escaped to China to reunite with her, beginning a journey that would define not only my identity but also my deep, lifelong yearning to learn.
In China, my mother obtained a false identity for me so I could enroll in school. That first day in a rural classroom marked the beginning of a different kind of life. I was behind, anxious, and constantly aware of our fragile situation.
For the first time, however, I was learning not to obey—but to think.
A year later, we moved to Beijing. There, I stepped into a world I had never imagined—one of academic rigor, intellectual freedom, and cultural diversity. It was in that environment that I first witnessed how learning can transform a person. Each lesson, each classroom conversation, opened doors not only to knowledge but also to self expression, confidence, and hope.
One winter afternoon in 2010, I was on my way to the bookstore, backpack heavy on my shoulders. Beijing was bleak and cold that year. Snowflakes fell softly, only to be crushed by cars and vanish into the grime of the streets. That scene reflected my life: I bore a name I couldn’t speak aloud, fears I couldn’t share, and a fragile existence that felt quietly lonely.
Inside the bookstore, warmth greeted me. I wandered through the aisles, searching for a quiet corner to rest. Then, I saw it—a book with a black-and-white cover, its portrait etched in solemn ink. The man’s composed expression exuded a power I longed for. I picked it up, almost unconsciously.
“I Have a Dream.”
“I have a dream that one day... people will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”
“This is the time to make real the promises of democracy.”
“We will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.”
These weren’t just words. They were light, seeping through a crack I hadn’t known existed. In a world that had taught me to stay small and silent, they spoke to a part of me I had hidden away. For the first time, I felt truly seen—not for where I was from or what I looked like, but for my thoughts, my voice, and the quiet strength I carried within.
Later, after arriving in South Korea, I faced new challenges. Though I had returned to my cultural roots, I felt out of place. I was older than my classmates, unfamiliar with many social norms, and unsure of how to fit in. But with time, I began to build friendships and navigate this new society. Again, learning was central—it provided not just academic skills but also the social space to grow and belong.
During university, I studied abroad in Texas. It was my first experience in a Western classroom. I was struck by the openness, the individuality, and the value placed on diverse opinions. Being among students from different backgrounds showed me how perspectives can differ—and how that difference enriches everyone.
Wherever I was—in China, Korea, or the United States—the classroom was where I grew the most. It was where I stepped outside my comfort zone, gained confidence, and slowly came to understand who I was becoming.
Across all these countries, I’ve developed not just a global perspective but a deep appreciation for the transformative power of learning. In each setting, the classroom became both a battlefield and a sanctuary. I struggled, but I also discovered. I learned new languages, absorbed new worldviews, and came to realize that I was more than a refugee or survivor. I was a thinker, a student, and a human being with agency.
And then I understood something deeper: My story is rare—but it shouldn’t be. There are still millions of children in North Korea growing up without the right to question, to dream, or to imagine a world beyond their borders. They deserve more than silence or sympathy. They deserve the same chance I had—to envision a different future and be equipped to pursue it.
That’s why I’m sharing my story through Liberty in North Korea. Because stories hold power. They build bridges, shatter stereotypes, and create connections.
North Korean people are not just victims. They are potential scholars, leaders, creators, and changemakers—if only they are given the freedom to grow.
My dream is to one day build a global school for children who, like me, come from hardship but brim with promise. I want to help others discover the same sense of identity and possibility that learning gave me. Until then, I will continue to advocate, teach, and connect.
If you’re reading this, I hope you’ll join me. Learn more. Speak up. Share stories. Support organizations like LiNK that are fighting to empower North Korean people with freedom, dignity, and opportunity.
Because when you invest in a child’s education, you’re not only changing one life—you’re challenging an entire system and planting seeds for a freer world.
Opportunities like LiNK’s Intensive English Program (LIEP) are helping North Koreans succeed in resettlement, reach their goals, and lead change on this issue. Your support can help us continue to make an impact in the lives of North Korean refugees.
