North Korean Agents of Change | Seohyun’s Story
It was an ordinary taxi ride. The driver struck up a casual conversation, commenting about the weather, asking what I do. At some point I shared that I was from North Korea- after two years studying abroad in China, I was used to the curiosity that typically followed.
But instead, the driver pointed to a picture of Deng Xiaoping on his rear view mirror. He explained how China was able to open up, reform, and get out of poverty. Then he asked, very pointedly, “why hasn’t your leader done the same thing, and left the people to starve?”
That was the moment when over two decades of brainwashing finally began to unravel.
My name is Seohyun Lee and I’m an advocate for the North Korean people. I was born and raised in Pyongyang, North Korea’s capital. This is my story.
I had the unique opportunity to study in China because of my father’s position and commitment to the regime. He was a high-ranking overseas economic officer, and was allowed to bring his children if he could afford all living expenses and tuition. At first, my brother and I alternated our time in China- one member of the family always had to stay behind as a hostage. But in 2010, the regime adopted a more open policy that allowed entire families to be together, so we were all finally reunited.
Growing up in Pyongyang, the circle of elites was very small. Every so often, you’d hear about a family that was sent to a political prison camp because someone’s son or daughter acted out of line. I restrained myself from an early age because I knew my actions and words could threaten the safety of my loved ones.
So even after learning the truth about North Korea, there was not much I could do. I hoped that because Kim Jong Un was a younger guy who had also studied abroad in Switzerland, our generation could change North Korea with more open-minded leadership. But it turned out to be even worse than before.
My fondest memories in China are with my roommate, another North Korean exchange student. She was my best friend and like a big sister to me. We traveled, shopped, and shared many delicious meals together. When I was sick with the flu, she took me to the hospital and stayed by my side until my IV was finished. During those years, she was like another part of me.
I’ll never forget the last time I saw her. I watched helplessly as she was forcefully taken from our dorm room by North Korean officers. Her father was executed for being associated with Kim Jong Un’s uncle, and she was sent to a political prison camp with the rest of her family.
That day, my eyes were opened to the brutality of the regime. To them, we were just like batteries to be thrown away when used up. Our lives never mattered.
I miss her so much. I really want to believe that she’s still alive, and one day I can meet her again.
What happened to my roommate was not an isolated incident. Starting in 2013, there were countless executions and purges happening in North Korea under the Kim Jong Un regime. My family and I lost many friends, neighbors, and respected colleagues. While dealing with great loss, we also knew that at any moment, we could be next.
It was a crisp fall evening. My family and I drove to a park and left our phones in the car. We walked until we were out of earshot, and finally talked openly about what we should do.
My father worked hard because he had hope that improving the economy would better the lives of the people. But we realized that under the current system, what he desired was not possible. So in order to save ourselves and also bring change to the country, we decided to leave in October 2014.
My dad still has a huge heart for North Korea. But I want to make sure that his love for the country is separated from being loyal to the regime. Back in North Korea, he worked tirelessly for a better future for the people. Today, he’s working towards the day where every North Korean has guaranteed human rights and three meals a day.
Like a lot of Asian parents, my father is not good at outwardly expressing affection. The way it manifests is through constant nagging. I didn't get it when I was young, but as I’ve gotten older, I now understand that's how he shows his love and care for us.
There have been moments when I’ve wished I was born in a different country. But when I think about my family, I never regret it.
My dad has been our foundation, my mom is the most thoughtful and perfect woman I know, and my brother has always looked out for me. We all love and support each other, especially after going through so much together.
This fall, I started my graduate studies at Columbia University. I never imagined that I would be chasing my dreams here in America. I hope to use everything I learn to bring a better future for the North Korean people, even after they become free from the current regime.
When my family and I left China, we came here not only to save ourselves, but with ambitions to change the system and bring freedom. Many people have not been as lucky as I have, so I feel it is my privilege and obligation to be a voice for my fellow North Koreans. I believe many of them are already opening their minds to the outside world.
We need to let them know that there’s a global movement of people who have their backs, and we can’t wait for them to be free.
It’s #GivingTuesday, the year’s biggest day of generosity! As we work towards creating the best version of our world, we’re making sure it’s one where every North Korean is free.
Your support will allow us to continue investing in North Korean agents of change - people like Seohyun - who are leading this movement and transforming one of the most repressive countries in the world.
Through access to English language programs, mentorship, scholarships, and more, you can help us support more North Korean refugees as they pursue their dreams and impact this issue.
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A North Korean’s Promise to his Father | Joseph’s Story: Part 1
Most of you may know me as Joseph, but my Korean name is Kim Kwang Jin. It means, “walking forward with brightness.” My father gave me this name, full of the hopes and expectations many fathers have for their sons.
But hope is a hard thing to have, especially in a country like North Korea, and as a child, I certainly didn’t make it any easier for my father to believe in my brightness. Even in elementary school, I was a poor student.
The first time I remember making my father proud was through my cooking, not from studying. That day, he and my older sister had gone to the mountains to collect firewood. It was getting close to midnight, but they still hadn’t come home, so I decided to make dinner for them—rice and kimchi soup. At the end of dinner, my father said, Son, this is the best rice I’ve ever had. I had never made rice before, and I knew it was undercooked. That night I realized how much my father loves me. I promised myself that next time I would make him better rice.
But next time never came. When I was 12, my father died of starvation.
To save us from the same fate, my mother and sister left for China in search of work and food. My mom ended up in a North Korean prison. But my sister never returned. Within one year, I had lost my entire family. I was alone—helpless, homeless, and orphaned on the streets.
After three years of barely surviving, I decided to escape. The journey would be risky, but staying in North Korea would be a risk too. I knew I could die of starvation. So I took a chance. Unlike most people, I decided to escape during the daytime, thinking that the border guards would become complacent because why would anyone be crazy enough to cross the border in the middle of the day with nowhere to hide?
Fortunately, I made it to China without being caught.
In China, I slept in the mountains and went to towns begging for food to survive. One day, while crossing a bridge in Yanji, I remember it started to snow. Everyone around me started walking fast.
I remember being so envious because walking fast must have meant they had a home they were rushing toward. I, too, wanted to walk fast, but I had no home and no one waiting for me.
Later on, I was lucky enough to be taken in by a halmoni, an older grandmother. She fed me and let me live with her for six months but I still lived in hiding, fearful that at any moment I could be arrested and sent back to North Korea. The halmoni eventually connected me with Liberty in North Korea and I had an opportunity to escape China and be the first North Korean refugee minor to come to the United States.
I was placed with a foster family and began attending an American high school, which felt a bit ridiculous at first. Even in North Korea, I was an F student. I barely finished elementary school so jumping straight into high school in a foreign country felt overwhelming.
One evening, my foster mom made chicken wings. They were so good that I wanted more, but I realized there wasn’t enough for everyone to have seconds. So I held back, thinking no one would notice. As I stared at my plate, my foster dad placed his last wing in front of me. I looked up, and he smiled, urging me to eat without saying a word. In that silence, I felt the depth of his love and care.
At that moment, I thought of my biological father. Even during our hardest times, he used to share what little food he had with me. I wished more than anything that I could cook for him one last time and share one more meal together.
That night, I promised myself that I would study hard and go to college. I believed that was the best way to honor my father’s sacrifice and make him proud.
Continue reading part 2 of Joseph’s story
Years before Joseph would reach freedom, talk on the TED stage, write a memoir, and pursue his master’s at Harvard Kennedy School, Joseph’s father saw the brightness in his son. While he may not have been able to witness Joseph reach these milestones, none of it would have been possible without the depth of his love that became the foundation for Joseph’s life.
His family’s support, both in North Korea and in the US, has given Joseph the confidence to believe in and fulfill his brightness.
When recalling his past, warm childhood memories and gripping hardship are shared in the same breath. Joseph often says that North Korea is not a land of darkness, merely a land with darkness. Both can exist. But what matters is what we choose to focus on—the shadow cast by the regime or the brightness of the North Korean people.
Help more North Korean refugees reach freedom and share their brightness with the world.
