Returning Home to a Free North Korea | A Glimpse of Reunification in 2045
By: Eunsook Jang
Eunsook is a 2024 LiNK US Scholarship grantee, a Fulbright Scholar, and a North Korean defector pursuing a master’s degree in international development at Brandeis University, where she focuses on post-conflict, economic, and human development. She holds a bachelor’s degree in political science and international peace from Korea University.
In the spring of 2045, on a flight from Incheon to Pyongyang, Emma's hands tremble. Her husband Sam reaches over and, steadily, holds them without a word. She turns to the window and stares into the pale clouds below the wing.
“I’ve waited 30 years for this day,” she whispers. “But now that I’m here… it doesn’t feel real. I hope this isn’t a dream.”
“Maybe it’s both,” Sam replies. “The dream became real.”
She closes her eyes. In 2015, at just fifteen years old, she crossed the frozen Yalu River in a dark March morning, leaving without saying a proper goodbye to her mother. That guilt, its intensity, has never faded, not even after thirty years. It simply learns to live quietly beside her.
“Will Mom recognize me?” she asks. “We parted when I was fifteen. I’m forty-five now.”
“She will,” Sam answers. “How could a mother not recognize her daughter?”
Emma says nothing. Will I... be able to recognize her? She does not say it aloud this time.
An announcement comes through the cabin speakers: "This is the first return flight for North Korean defectors to their hometowns. We know how much you have endured. We will carry you safely home."
It is a rare moment of comfort from a South Korean voice. Moments later, the plane lifts into the sky.
An hour later, the plane lands in Pyongyang. Emma weeps quietly, overwhelmed by the thought that across so short a distance, lives in the South and the North had been so utterly, irreconcilably different. For thirty years, she had not been able to cross it, that gap, so small.
From Pyongyang, the journey to Hyesan continues by bus. As the skyline of Pyongyang passes past the window, its taller buildings, its broad avenues, Emma allows herself the fragile hope: perhaps Hyesan has developed too.
After five hours on the road, the bus arrives at Hyesan Station. The apartments and the lay of the land are almost entirely unchanged from when she had left thirty years earlier, as if time had refused to move, as if it had been waiting for her. Emma found herself hoping the same might be true of her mother.
A thirty minutes' walk from the station: that is where her mother's house is.
As if drawn by a magnet, her feet start moving on their own.
Sam asks if they are going the right way. Without hesitation, "Yes," Emma replies. "I used to walk this road every day as a child. It’s still in my body."
He points to a bus queue down the street. "There's a bus queue over there. Want to take it part of the way?" She shakes her head gently. "If you don't mind, I'd like to walk." "Then we’ll walk," he replies without hesitation. Emma feels another surge of gratitude, grips on his arm and follows her memory home.
Since Emma left her hometown in 2015, the North Korean regime has conducted ten more nuclear tests as of 2045. And yet the face of this neighborhood has not changed by a single detail. The freedom and human rights that should have been the people's return on those tests have been vaporized into the air.
They arrive at a fork in the road. To the left, an alley leads toward the house. A familiar-looking house comes into view, enclosed by a wooden fence. She stops and stands motionless. It is the house, it is her house.
Several minutes pass. Then the door opens. Emma feels her breath catch. For a second, she forgets how to move.
After thirty years, she is here.
This is what the micropolitics of reunification looks like. Grand narratives, speeches, and legal texts may provide its official language, but its lived realities lie in moments, in feelings, like this: a mother and daughter recognizing each other after thirty years apart.
Author’s note: I dedicate this piece to my father in South Korea, who has never once wavered in encouraging my studies, as if realizing through me the freedom to pursue the dreams that were taken from him. And to my mother, who remains in North Korea: This piece is my proof that your daughter has not turned away from your suffering, but is working, in her own small way, to fight against it. I hope to see you, even if only in my dreams tonight. I love and miss you beyond my expression.
–
Eunsook is a participant of the LiNK English Language Program (LELP), which serves to not only help North Korean defectors build confidence and skills in English, but develop their capacity as advocates for this issue. To that end, we partnered with select LELP “columnists” to write and polish personal essays through multiple rounds of external feedback and revision. Our goal is to have more North Koreans share their stories directly and lead efforts to change the narrative.
We believe the North Korean people can achieve their liberty in our lifetime.
Opportunities like LELP invest in the people building that future now. Help more North Koreans find their voice, reach their goals, and lead change on this issue.
A North Korean Refugee’s Legacy of Freedom | Holly & Mia’s Story
As a little girl in North Korea, I dreamt of becoming a musician. When I was 6 years old, I saw my school teacher playing the organ. After class one day, I went up and placed my hands on the keys, trying to mimic what she played. When the teacher got back, she asked who touched the organ. All the kids looked at me and I thought I’d get in trouble, but instead of punishing me, she started teaching me how to read music. Eventually, my teacher came to my home and urged my parents to send me to Pyongyang, North Korea’s capital, to pursue music with some of the country’s best musicians.
But my parents knew I could not achieve my dream. My grandfather had been a landowner before the North Korean regime took power. When the Korean War broke out, he had fled to the South, never to be heard from again. The regime didn’t forget my family’s past - to them, we were traitors. Before I was even born, my future had been decided.
I couldn’t attend a university or get a good job. While others studied, I would have to dig for coal and sell it.
One night, I was gathering firewood on a mountain near the South Korean border with another girl. In the distance, I saw a town that was dazzlingly bright in the dark evening. Electricity is a luxury in North Korea, and I soon realized I was looking across the border. I had secretly watched South Korean movies for years. I had seen the delicious food they ate and the amazing places they traveled. I stared at the lights and dreamed of what my life could be.
The dream was too powerful to ignore. I worked every day from sunrise to sunset to save money for my escape.
I gathered rare mushrooms on the slopes of North Korea’s tallest mountain, through the bitter cold. After sixty trips, I had enough money to hire a broker to help me escape into China.
But I trusted the wrong broker.
The broker betrayed us and sold us out. Soldiers were waiting for us at the meeting point and we were dragged from the river to an interrogation cell. The secret police want you to confess that you were trying to defect to South Korea. They beat you with a stick and slam your head against a wall until you just want the pain to stop. But if you confess, you’re sent to a political prison camp to die like an animal.
So I refused to say anything. They kept beating me and screaming at me, but I closed my eyes and held on to my dream of freedom. It was two weeks before they finally sent me to a detention center.
A woman in my cell told me about another broker who could help me escape. But there was a catch - I would have to be sold to a man in China.
I chose the unimaginable. I was sold for less than $3,000.
It is hard for me to talk about this time in my life. The man who bought me kept me in a small bedroom in his house. In one month, I was pregnant. When he found out, he told me to get an abortion. I refused. He tried to drug me and take me to get an abortion while I was unconscious.
One night I felt sick and thought it was food poisoning, but I was in labor and rushed to the hospital. After twenty hours, the doctor had to perform an emergency c-section. The man who bought me complained about the extra expense.
But when I woke up, there was my beautiful baby. I put her on my chest and knew she was my everything. My new dream was to give my daughter Mia a chance to have a better life than me.
I knew we couldn’t stay in China. The man who bought me didn’t want a child, and every day we stayed was another day we could get caught. But I couldn’t take a newborn baby on the dangerous journey. I waited until Mia was one year old, making secret plans with someone who could help us escape - now I know they were part of LiNK’s rescue network.
The day of our escape finally came, and we went to a safe house. I had Mia on my back and a bag full of diapers, clothes, and a small bracelet that was a gift for her. It was everything we had. We met up with other North Koreans, and they were not happy that Mia and I were joining them. I could not blame them. There were stories about groups that were caught because of a crying baby.
Taking care of a one year old is hard enough. Doing so while avoiding the Chinese police was one of the hardest things I have ever done.
I didn’t want Mia to cry so I never put her down, even when my back and arms ached from rocking her. We never stopped for more than a few hours so I had to breastfeed her along the way. Whenever we did have a break, I’d change her diapers, clean her, and make sure she ate enough. By the time I was done, we had to move again. I didn’t have time to eat so I went days with barely any food.
But every mile we traveled brought us closer to our new life. One hot morning, we climbed into a boat and crossed a river. With Mia in my arms, we were met by LiNK’s field team who welcomed us into freedom.
There are two days I will never forget. The day Mia was born and the day I arrived in the United States. I cried so much walking out of the airport. I had no idea what our new life would look like, but we were together and we were finally free.
Now when Mia falls asleep in my arms, all I feel is happiness. My story used to only be about my dreams, but now, I am watching my daughter grow into a fearless and curious person. If I never decided to escape and if I didn’t have LiNK’s help, Mia’s life would be so different. Instead of growing hungry, she has a full stomach. Instead of learning North Korean propaganda, she’s learning about science and animals and the world. Instead of fearing we could be sent to a political prison camp, I just worry she’s growing up too soon.
I believe that one day, every North Korean will be free. And every child will be able to write their own story, like my Mia.
Thanks to Holly’s bravery and the help of LiNK supporters around the world, Mia will never know a life without freedom. Holly will be leaving behind a legacy of freedom for her daughter and for generations to come.
You can help rescue more North Korean refugees and support them as they begin their new lives.
