Starting Fresh: A Conversation with Jin Kyung
Jin Kyung escaped North Korea after experiencing her own modern-day Cinderella story. Her parents divorced when she was still young, and for a short time she lived comfortably with her father, but when her father remarried a year later, Jin Kyung’s life took a turn for the worse. Her father often worked away from home, leaving her alone with her stepmother, who scolded and punished her every day. Resolving to find a better life for herself, she escaped to China.
Jin Kyung was sold soon after crossing the border, but the family she had been sold into showed kindness and love to her. Unlike many women who are sold, she was allowed to come and go as she pleased. She came to be fond of the Chinese man and his parents. However, Jin Kyung wasn’t ready to settle for a life as an illegal immigrant in China despite being grateful for a happy home. Her new family helped coordinate her escape to South Korea, which she admits is not a common occurrence. After resettling in South Korea, she attended school and eventually reunited with the Chinese man, who is now her husband. They have a four-month-old son together and she’s currently a stay-at-home mom.
Our resettlement coordinator Anna visited with Jin Kyung and her son recently to see how they're doing.
Anna: What was the best thing that happened to you recently?
Jin Kyung: I’m grateful for every day for numerous reasons. It especially warms my heart to see my baby smiling, although taking care of him is sometimes physically demanding. My husband and I talked about having a second, but I’m not sure if I can handle it if I start attending college. In fact, I also passed the GED this past April and just submitted two college applications yesterday as a hair design and make-up artist major.
Anna: What's your biggest challenge in South Korea?
Jin Kyung: Raising a child is very challenging and sometimes tiring, but I enjoy it so much and want to have a second one as soon as possible.
After I got out of Hanawon and for a few months after that, I felt so lost and clueless.
Anna: How did you overcome the challenge?
Jin Kyung: Although many people recommended for me to go back to school, I only wanted to earn money to send to my family in North Korea. I soon found a job at a factory, but realized that there’s a limitation to the types of careers that I can pursue if I don’t get a proper education. I realized what my priority should be after working in a labor-intensive job at the factory.
Anna: Who has been the biggest help (outside of LiNK) to you since you arrived in South Korea?
Jin Kyung: A teacher from the alternative school that I attended the last few years. She is the one who actually got me interested in studying and led me to gain different perspectives on the world and life. She’s such an enthusiastic person who didn’t mind if I asked her questions, and she was always available when I needed her. I’ve been able to achieve as much as I have up until now thanks to her.
Anna: What was your biggest challenge in North Korea?
Jin Kyung: Living itself was very hard. I always faced starvation and struggled with serious domestic conflict. When I reached puberty, I abruptly left home to escape from that reality.
Anna: What is it like living in freedom in South Korea?
Jin Kyung: I believe resettling in a new society is not easy whether you have more freedom or not. I had an inferiority complex because I had a different intonation and background from South Koreans. For example, I couldn't even understand what a bank clerk was saying to me one time. I used to care so much what other people thought about me. It just takes time to adjust to a new community.
Anna: What is something that you started to do in South Korea that you never did before?
Jin Kyung: STUDY! I've always wanted to attend school to study and make friends since I was back in North Korea, but I had to leave school at a young age for family reasons. At first, I had no confidence in myself to study again, and I was honestly afraid to start anything at that time. The teacher whom I mentioned earlier, she boosted my confidence by lavishing me with praise. She encouraged me with praise for one correct answer instead of scolding me over nine wrong answers. In spite of many unfamiliar words in math, Korean, science, sociology, and history classes, I quickly gained more confidence and started to catch up! I’m still so proud of myself for passing the GED this year and I’m anxious, yet excited, to start college soon.
Anna: Have your perceptions of Americans and South Koreans changed?
Jin Kyung: I honestly had no spare time to care anything other than living day by day. I really didn't know much about other countries, but the fact that I grew up hearing bad things about them gave a negative impression. I actually used to think that the U.S. is the cause of separation of the Korean peninsula and wished that the U.S. had never existed, however, those thoughts all changed once I arrived in China by simply watching Korean movies and dramas.
Anna: What advice would you give to a friend who just arrived in South Korea?
Jin Kyung: I don’t think I’m in a position of giving them advice because there are many defectors who have lived here longer than I have. Nonetheless, I realized a few things as I resettled in South Korea. I wish North Korean defectors opened up their mind more to accept this new culture and engaged with South Koreans. I believe that it’s difficult to understand someone’s hardship if you haven’t been in the same situation, so I, as a North Korean defector, would like take an approach to get along with South Korean friends.
Anna: How often do you think about North Korea? What do you think about?
Jin Kyung: I should, but I tend not to think much about North Korea. I get upset whenever I think of North Korea because it brings out my hurtful memories and struggles. I’m also so sad and feel pity for those who still live under the miserable circumstances.
You can help more North Korean refugees escape China and resettle in a safe country. Start a fundraiser today!
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.
