The Bridge: The Role of North Korean Defectors in a Unified Korea in 2045
By: Eunsook Jang
Eunsook Jang holds a bachelor’s degree in Political Science from Korea University and a master’s degree in International Development from Brandeis University. A Fulbright Scholar and LiNK US Scholarship grantee, she is currently a research intern at the Hudson Institute, where her work focuses on post-conflict recovery, economic development, and human development. Her recent publications include “Slipping through the Cracks in South Korea: The Uncertain Futures for the Children of North Korean Defectors” with the Migration Policy Institute, and “Why Strengthening RFA Is a Strategic Imperative for US Policy on North Korea” in The Diplomat.
The door opens, and an elderly woman with white hair steps out. It is Emma's mother, Sun. Emma's voice fails her. She collapses into tears. Sun startles at the sound, turns toward Emma, and, in an instant, knows. It is her daughter.
"Euna!" her mother cries. The name no one had spoken aloud for thirty years. "Mom!" Emma answers, and they fall into each other’s arms.
Words fail them. They weep, touching each other's faces and hands as if to make sure the other is real. Emma feels with her palms the smaller body her mother now has, the sharp ridges of her shoulder blades, and cries harder.
"Look how you've grown," her mother manages through tears, cupping Emma's face in both hands. "You've become... a woman."
Emma pulls her closer. "Mom, I'm sorry. I left you alone." Her mother draws her in tighter, and murmurs into her hair: "You are here. You are alive. That is enough. I have missed you."
Sun had prayed to God every day for her daughter's new life, even without fully knowing religion itself.
For the first time since leaving, Emma cries in her mother's arms like a child.
And so for the next several hours, mother and daughter spend their time filling in thirty years of unshared life: how Emma met her husband Sam, how she spent each birthday without family, what it was like to settle into South Korean society.
After a while, Sun asks a kind of question Emma had not expected; a question filled with curiosity, hope, and all the images of South Korea she had imagined from afar.
“Is South Korea really like a K-drama?” Sun asks, her eyes sparkling.
"Yes, it often feels like it" Emma replies with quiet confidence. "I was able to study freely, for the life I wanted."
Sun shakes her head slowly, in something between disbelief and wonder. "To think, if you had stayed in North Korea, none of it would have been imaginable. Graduate school. A life like that. I suppose it really is a drama kind of place."
And yet not everything had felt like a drama. Settlement in South Korea had meant starting from zero: a political system unlike anything she knew, a language full of foreign words that made her feel dizzy just listening to it. She survived by studying fiercely and endured countless hours alone. It was the kind of loneliness that stayed at the back of the throat, the kind you feel when you fall ill and have no one to call, or when you achieve something and have no one to tell.
Emma takes her mother's hand. "Mom, everything will feel enormous and new at first. There will be moments when not knowing even small things makes you feel small too. But I will be there. So don't worry. We'll start this new life together."
As the words leave her mouth, she feels quietly grateful that she had gone through all of it first, knowing the path her mother is about to walk. And she finds herself already picturing it: the two of them sitting across from each other at her favorite pork belly restaurant Dwehyaji (돼야지), near Korea University, sharing a bottle of soju, talking until the night runs out. She smiles to herself at the thought.
The faces of the mentors and friends who had taught her culture and society drift through her mind, one by one, and she carries her gratitude for them again, as the sun goes down over Hyesan.
Emma falls asleep in the very spot where she slept as a child. It still feels like a dream. She closes her eyes, hoping she will not wake if it is.
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 words.
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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.
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North Korean Refugee Stories: Meet Yoon Suk
Yoon Suk has vivid, happy memories of growing up in North Korea. She was raised during a time when state-socialism was relatively functioning, and the government could provide basic necessities to its citizens. She remembers wearing beautiful nylon (a highly-sought after fabric back in the earlier days of North Korea) uniforms with bows and red, patent-leather shoes to school. She also had a passion for the arts and performed frequently on stage. But as she grew older, the shine in her shoes began to fade and the hunger in her belly began to grow.
After the collapse of the Soviet Union, North Korea lost crucial sources of subsidized trade and aid and the North Korean economy crashed. It was during this time that Yoon Suk got married, but what should have been a happy time in her life ended up being far from it. The regime’s mismanaged agricultural and environmental policies were confounded by harsh weather, plunging the country into a severe famine that lasted for years. Yoon Suk and her husband struggled to survive on the meager rations they received—and they were not alone. During this period, an estimated one million people died from starvation, while many of those who survived suffered immensely.
Yoon Suk, knowing that she had to do something to keep her family alive during the most difficult years of the “Arduous March,” turned to the jangmadang—small, illegal markets where people sold and traded anything they could for food. Yoon Suk was like many North Korean women in this new reality, abandoning her traditional role for market activities. Unfortunately, running her modest merchant business was more challenging than she had anticipated and she struggled to keep it afloat. As the situation grew worse, she discontinued her business and looked for other ways to support her family, which had grown by two with the birth of her sons. It was during this time that she learned that life might be better in booming China.
As recently as three decades ago, Chinese people were on average poorer than their North Korean neighbors. But China’s economic reforms have produced wealth and opportunities that are the envy of nearly all North Koreans today. Since North Korea’s economic collapse, which lead to unprecedented cross-border movement and inflows of Chinese goods and media, North Koreans have gained a painful awareness of just how far their formerly impoverished Chinese neighbors have come.
But it’s extremely risky for North Koreans to escape their country. The North Korean regime makes it illegal to leave without explicit permission and if Yoon Suk was caught trying to escape, or caught in China and sent back, she would be punished severely. Yet, the opportunity was too great to pass up and she fled for the first time in the mid-2000s.
Once she arrived, alone in a foreign country where she didn’t speak the language, Yoon Suk was sold to a Chinese man as his bride. China’s lack of marriageable women, particularly in rural areas of the northeast, creates high demand for female North Korean refugees like Yoon Suk. Without legal status and no protection from the authorities, these women are often kidnapped by sex traffickers and sold, sometimes for as little as $200.
Even though she was now living with a Chinese man, Yoon Suk still wasn’t safe from the watchful eye of the Chinese authorities. North Korean refugees’ well-founded fear of persecution if repatriated means that they should be protected under international refugee law. However, the Chinese government labels them as “economic migrants,” so they can forcibly send them back, as per their agreement with the North Korean regime. Yoon Suk was caught by Chinese police not even a month after arriving and was forcibly repatriated back to North Korea. There, the authorities sent her to a prison camp, where she was abused, beaten, and starved.
After all she had gone through, Yoon Suk was still undeterred from finding freedom outside of North Korea. She escaped again to China shortly after her release from the prison camp. She was sold off three times by traffickers, again under the pretense that she was going to be given work. With the last husband, she had her beautiful daughter.
Yoon Suk wanted to give her daughter a better life, and knew that would not be possible in China. Without the proper documentation, her daughter would have difficulty even going to school and would be denied the opportunities available to other Chinese children. Yoon Suk and her daughter escaped China together through Liberty in North Korea’s network and are now on their way to safety in South Korea.
Yoon Suk is excited for the life and opportunities that lie ahead of her. She’s a talented cook and wants to explore the option of obtaining a culinary certificate in South Korea. She also has high hopes for her daughter, who loves art just like her mother did as a young girl, and wants to enroll her in dance and painting lessons. Yoon Suk’s greatest wish is to reunite with her two adult sons someday. She often dreams about appearing on TV to send a message to her sons, showing them she’s alive and well.
Thank you for helping supply the funds for Yoon Suk’s rescue. Your efforts have changed her life and have provided the opportunity for her to enjoy her new LIBERTY.
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