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North Korean Women's Football Team Arrives in Suwon: Propaganda vs Real People

May 15, 2026

⏱️ 30-Second Summary

  • Inter-Korean Women’s Soccer: The AWCL semi-final between Suwon FC Women and North Korea's Naegohyang Women's Football Club has been confirmed for May 20th at Suwon Sports Complex. This visit by a North Korean sports delegation will be the first of its kind in nearly eight years.
  • High-Stakes: In North Korea, social advancement is nearly impossible if one’s “songbun” (political status) is unfavorable. The realm of sports is a rare exception. A win in an international competition secures a jump in social standing. On the other hand, the cost of failure is just as high.
  • The Women Behind the Uniform: Two documentaries by Director Brigitte Weich, Hana, Dul, Sed and Ned, Tassot, Yossot offer a glimpse of the passion, friendship, and subsequent lives of North Korean athletes.

The First North Korean Sports Delegation to Visit South Korea in Eight Years

On May 20th, Pyongyang-based Naegohyang Women’s FC and South Korea’s Suwon FC Women will be facing off in the semi-finals of the AFC Women’s Champions League. The match will take place in South Korea at the Suwon Sports Complex. This visit by a North Korean sports delegation will be the first of its kind in nearly eight years. The last time a North Korean women’s football team competed on southern soil was at the 2014 Incheon Asian Games.

The North Korean women’s football team has consistently demonstrated world-class strength. Expectations for their upcoming match are high, naturally leading to questions about the individuals representing the world’s most closed country: How did North Korean women’s football reach this level? Under what conditions are these athletes playing? And how will their lives continue after the match ends?

Women's soccer match between North Korea and Nigeria (Source: John Pavelka, wikimedia commons)

World-Class Athleticism: North Korean Women's National Football Team

As of April 21, 2026, the North Korean women's national football team is 11th in the FIFA rankings, placing it in the top tier globally. Comparatively, South Korea is ranked 19th. The North Korean team has maintained its status with multiple wings in international tournaments, including the U-17 and U-20 Women’s World Cups. 

Naegohyang Women's Football Club is the reigning champion of North Korea's top-tier women's football league, celebrating its 10th anniversary in 2022. In the quarterfinals of the AFC Women’s Champions League, they defeated Vietnam's Ho Chi Minh City Women’s FC to secure their ticket to Suwon. 

This strong performance is not limited to just the Naegohyang club. North Korean women’s football has also won the U-17 and U-20 Women’s World Cups multiple times. At the 2025 U-17 tournament held in Morocco, the team once again claimed the title by defeating the Netherlands 3-0.

From Elementary School to Pyongyang

In an interview with Kyunghyang Newspaper, Professor Hyun In-ae of Ewha Women’s University attributed the strength of North Korean women’s soccer “not the the popularization of athletic activities, but rather to state-led selection and development.”

The development of athletes in North Korea begins at a very young age. North Korean authorities reportedly "bring football prodigies from across the country to Pyongyang starting in elementary school and train them systematically." Recognizing that performance in international competitions contributes to the national image, the state provides support ranging from European-style training systems to even overseas training camps.

Medals, Apartments, and Coal Mines: A System Where Winning and Losing Determine One’s Life

In North Korea, social advancement is nearly impossible if one’s “songbun” (political status) is unfavorable. The realm of sports is a rare exception. Winning a medal at an international competition secures a jump in social standing.

For competitions like the Asian Games, individuals who bring home a medal are awarded the title of "Merited Athlete.” For events at the level of the Olympics or World Championships, the “People’s Athlete” honor is bestowed. Decorated athletes with many medals may receive the title of “Labor Hero,” and potentially even the highest distinction of all: "Hero of the Republic." On top of such recognition, unique comforts like athletic pensions, luxury apartments, and imported cars may be rewarded.

On the other hand, the cost of failure is just as high. After losing to a South Korean competitor at the judo finals of the 1990 Beijing Asia Games, Ri Chang-su, a North Korean “Merited Athlete" was sent to labor in a coal mine. He testified as follows: "I truly lived my life working hard for my country, yet simply because I took second place, they sent me to a coal mine and wouldn't even let me quit the sport." After a loss in the 2010 World Cup in South Africa, the entire North Korean men’s national team was summoned to Pyongyang and subjected to a six-hour public criticism session in front of 400 people.

North Korean Sports as a Tool for Propaganda

When it comes to understanding North Korean sports, glory and punishment are inextricably bound together because it serves as a form of propaganda. The regime sees it as a tool to "promote the regime internationally and publicize its achievements domestically." 

Following the North Korean women's national football team's victory at the 2024 U-20 tournament, Sin Yong-chol, Chairman of the Football Association under the Ministry of Physical Culture and Sports, remarked in Rodong Newspaper that "sports are precisely a war without the sound of gunfire waged against enemies in peacetime."

For the North Korean athletes coming to compete in Suwon on May 20th, the weight resting on their shoulders is far more than just the outcome of the match.

North Korean and U.S. Army players battling for the ball during a women's soccer match at the World Military Games in Hyderabad, India. (Source: US Air Force, Wikimedia Commons)

The Lives of North Korean Women Athletes: Documentary Hana, Dul, Sed

Despite the circumstances under which they play, North Korean athletes cannot be defined solely by the role assigned to them by the regime. Beyond the language of propaganda, there are ordinary people who genuinely love football.

In 2009, Austrian filmmakers Brigitte Weich and Karin Macher released Hana, Dul, Sed (One, Two, Thee), a documentary that closely chronicles the lives of four athletes from the North Korean women's national team: Ri Jong-hui, Ra Mi-ae, Jin Byeol-hui, and Ri Hyang-ok. These women played a pivotal role in elevating North Korean women’s football to world-class status. However, after their elimination in the qualifiers for the Athens Olympics, the careers of the four athletes came to a sudden end.

The film’s protagonists are not the North Korean regime, but the players themselves. Towards the end of the film, Ra Mi-ae, known for her lively personality, and Ri Hyang-ok, known as “the beauty of the team,” reminisce over the friendship they forged during their training days. They mention that since being dismissed from the team, they rarely get to see each other anymore.

Attempting to articulate the allure of soccer, Ri Hyang-ok chokes up, “The moment I stepped into the stadium, my heart opened wide—it felt as though I could embrace the whole world."

Through rare personal accounts, Hana, Dul, Sed offers a humanizing perspective of the athletes who take the field on behalf of North Korea. These individuals are not just tools of the regime, but people driven by the love of the game, just like the members of the teams they face.

The Universal Experience of Women

Five years after Hana, Dul, Sed, Director Weich returned to Pyongyang to meet with the same four athletes featured in her original documentary. She shares the story of how their lives had evolved in the sequel, Ned, Tassot, Yossot (Four, Five Six): The Legends of North Korean Women’s Football (2023). 

Even after retirement, the former national football team players have remained close to the sport. They have each established themselves as FIFA-affiliated referees, coaches, or mentors, dedicated to nurturing the next generation of athletes.

The documentary also captures the muti-dimensional nature of these women’s lives. Lee Jung-hee, former goalkeeper of the team, is shown juggling life as a student and as a mother of a young daughter. Anxieties surrounding marriage, pregnancy, childbirth, and raising a family—all while struggling to sustain one’s career—are common themes.

While telling the unique stories of these women in North Korea, the film also conveys a deeper truth, that their lives are not so different from those of women in any other country.

What’s Next: Potential Rematch at the 2027 Brazil World Cup

The AWCL semi-final on May 20th will be the first time North and South Korean athletes face each other on South Korean soil in eight years. Both teams have already secured their spots in the 2027 Women’s World Cup finals. South Korea advanced to the semifinals of the 2026 Asian Cup, while North Korea secured a ticket to Brazil by defeating Taiwan 4–0 in the March playoffs. Depending on the results of the group stage draw, the possibility of a national team rematch remains open.

2011 FIFA Women's World Cup North Korea vs. Colombia match (Source: Like_the_Grand_Canyon, Wikimedia Commons)

Beyond the Score, the Right of Twenty-Two Players to Live an Ordinary Day

The upcoming match on May 20th is an opportunity for the world to see this issue—typically treated as political—from a more universal perspective: that of women and sports. The North Korean athletes playing that day are more than subjects of a news report or the public faces of a political regime. They are fellow human beings, taking the field with passion and love for the game.

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My Name Is Loh Kiwan | Fictional Story, Real Lives

July 23, 2025

From a crumpled piece of paper, he copies his name onto the Application for Recognition of Refugee status. The letters flow together in neat, sloping script to spell–Loh Kiwan.

This seemingly mundane declaration of identity serves as the focal point of Netflix’s recently released movie, My Name is Loh Kiwan. Showcasing the titular character’s past and present struggles as a North Korean defector seeking asylum in Belgium, the film follows Kiwan’s journey through both hope and heartbreak while he fights for a new life in freedom. He shows unimaginable resilience in the face of tragedy, betrayal, and bureaucratic apathy, carving out a place where he can live as himself, for himself.

   
“Be proud of your name, and live a full and honorable life.” 
– Kiwan’s mother (Ok-hee), My Name is Loh Kiwan

Though based on a fictional novel, Loh Kiwan’s story captures the real life experiences of many North Korean refugees. Whether it be the harrowing circumstances of his escape, the subsequent challenges Kiwan faces while applying for asylum, or even the emotional turmoil of contending with his trauma, My Name is Loh Kiwan derives its drama from reality when depicting the struggles of North Korean defectors.

Uprooted by an act of defiance that saves his friend’s life, Kiwan and his mother escape across the border to China and live there under constant threat of arrest and forced repatriation. With no legal status as refugees and no legal options for leaving the country without government approval, North Korean defectors in China are exceptionally vulnerable to trafficking and exploitation. They live in the shadows, concealing their identities as best they can, despite cultural and language barriers. If captured and returned to their home country, they are subject to brutal torture, imprisonment, and execution. Rather than face such inhumanity, many see suicide as a final escape and carry poison or razor blades with them, much like Kiwan and his mother. 

“If I knew there would be a risk of being repatriated to North Korea…I thought that it would be better to die. So, I would like to tell North Korean defectors to take ‘poison’ in a survival kit.”
– Soyeon Lee, Beyond Utopia

It is ultimately his mother’s sacrifice that saves Kiwan from such a fate. Her death forces him into a position nearly every North Korean refugee recognizes–having to leave behind friends, family, and loved ones with aborted goodbyes for the sake of everyone’s safety and survival. Kiwan’s only material connection to his mother is a photo and a wallet full of blood. In reality, most leave with even less than that.

Not wanting to incriminate the people close to them if they are caught trying to escape, most North Korean refugees forgo any identifying documents or proof of their existence. They take only the bare essentials for survival, not knowing that their arrival in a new country is only the beginning of their journey, or even if they'll make it.  

“You’ll just have to hang in there,”
is what he is told by the government interpreter. For the next year, Kiwan is left to survive on his own.

But this is not the narrative Liberty in North Korea believes in. No North Korean person should have to endure the struggles or celebrate the successes of resettlement alone. Much like the assistance Kiwan later receives from an advocacy group that offers legal support and a community of other North Koreans, LiNK walks with our North Korean friends on their journey to freedom. And when they begin new lives, we support their success, amplify their voices, cultivate more leaders and changemakers working on this issue together.

In this, Kiwan’s story reflects yet another reality of the North Korean people. Not only do they encounter extraordinary hardships, but also, they face them with extraordinary strength. Throughout the film, Kiwan persists in his pursuit of an earnest, honest life. Despite setbacks and situations where he’s forced into hurt or hiding, he stays true to his mother’s wish for him to live well, and in doing so, inspires the people around him to do the same.

“When I first met you, I was about ready to give up. I kept going just to see your face again. You made me believe life was worth it. You’re the reason I’m still here, Kiwan.”
– Marie, My Name is Loh Kiwan

He finds hope, love, and freedom in others, but most importantly, in himself. When placed on trial to prove his identity before the court, Loh Kiwan proclaims the name his mother gave him. 

Owning one’s identity as a North Korean person is not always easy. From the start of their escape, they are forced to hide. Once they reach freedom, the stigma and prejudice people hold towards their homeland pressures many to erase their accent or change their name–sometimes as a form of self-protection, other times as a way to fit in.

What Kiwan’s story shows, however, is that there is hope at the end of hiding. There is beauty in the simple, everyday life he longs for–a life where he can work for himself and share meals with friends, have a home, have a future, and have the choice to stay or go.

“I realized what I really wanted in the end was not the right to live in this country, but the right to leave it whenever I wanted to.”
– Kiwan, My Name is Loh Kiwan

This is the life the North Korean people deserve, and every day, both within the country and without, they fight towards a better future. Their courage and indomitable spirit are not just figments of fiction. With your help, their freedom will become a reality.

Sign up below to learn how YOU can help support North Korean refugees today.

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