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.
–
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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Chuseok for North Koreans | No Way Home for the Holidays
Autumn is a significant season for many people and cultures around the world. It’s a period of transition and reflection, gratitude for the days gone by, and celebration of the harvest.
In both North and South Korea, this time of year is celebrated with Chuseok, or the mid-autumn festival. Also known as “Korean Thanksgiving,” it’s a major holiday that predates the division of the peninsula. Chuseok is observed on the 15th day of the 8th month of the lunar calendar, when the harvest moon shines brightest. Traditionally, people return to their ancestral hometowns to gather with family, share a variety of delicious foods, and pay respects to their ancestors.
But for North Korean refugees, there is no going back. Holidays like Chuseok can be a bittersweet time, one of both gratitude for a life in freedom and grief over being unable to celebrate with family still inside North Korea.
“The first Chuseok in the US felt very empty and lonely. It was just me and my two-year-old daughter, Mia, back then. It didn’t feel like a holiday. I had multiple emotions at the same time. Loneliness, emptiness… there were so many feelings that I couldn’t even put into words.“
– Holly, escaped North Korea in 2013
Chuseok celebrations have evolved to look a little different in North versus South Korea, and even in countries like the US where the Korean diaspora have resettled.
Chuseok Traditions in South Korea
In South Korea, Chuseok is considered the largest and most important holiday of the year. It’s celebrated over three days, during which a “national migration” takes place as people all over the country travel to their hometowns or to go sightseeing. Tickets for planes, trains, and buses are sold out months in advance, and freeways are packed with bumper-to-bumper traffic during the holiday period.
On the morning of Chuseok, families hold a memorial service for their ancestors at home, known as charye (차례). A table of food is prepared as an offering, typically featuring rice cakes, fresh fruits and vegetables, meat dishes, and the favorite meals of deceased loved ones. Families will also visit ancestral gravesites, a custom known as seongmyo (성묘), to pay their respects and tend to the graves.
From the ancestral table to large family meals, food is a central part of Chuseok celebrations. The defining dish of this holiday is seongpyeon (송편), a chewy, sweet, and nutty half-moon shaped rice cake steamed in fresh pine needles. It’s traditionally made with rice from the year’s harvest, finely milled into flour. Preparing seongpyon becomes a family activity as each piece is shaped by hand and filled with red bean paste, toasted sesame seeds, or chestnuts.
Other holiday foods include pajeon(파전), a crispy, savory pancake made with green onions; galbijjim (갈비찜), sweet and savory braised short ribs; and japchae(잡채), glass noodles stir-fried with meat and vegetables.
How Chuseok is Celebrated in North Korea
In North Korea, Chuseok is just a one-day celebration. While it is considered a key traditional holiday, its importance has been minimized relative to national holidays like the birthdays of Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-il, and the anniversary of the founding of the Worker’s Party.
On both traditional and national holidays, North Koreans are urged to visit the statues of Kim family leaders or the Kumsan Palace of the Sun in Pyongyang, where the bodies of Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-il lie.
It is much less common for widespread travel to take place during Chuseok due to severe travel restrictions and poor transportation infrastructure. However, these constraints have also made it so that generations of North Koreans remain in close proximity to their hometowns and relatives. For Chuseok, people gather with their nearby family members. Just like in South Korea, they’ll prepare special foods as offerings for charye, and then visit ancestral grave sites to pay respects.
After ancestral rites, festivities become a community affair with traditional food and folk games shared amongst family, friends, and neighbors. Songpyeon is also a holiday staple, but the North Korean version is made with a minced meat and vegetable filling, and are twice as big as South Korean ones. Common folk games are yutnori (윷놀이), a board game, and ssireum (씨름), or Korean wrestling.
Holly & Mia: A Legacy of Freedom
It’s been over a decade since Holly left her hometown in North Korea. But whenever she makes pajeon (파전), it takes her right back to her childhood—sitting by the frying pan and watching her mom cook, eagerly awaiting a taste. “Pa”(파) means green onion and “jeon”(전) refers to foods that have been pan-fried or battered. There are many varieties of “jeon,” made with everything from potatoes to zucchini, seafood, kimchi, and more.
Holly saw her mom cook this dish countless times in North Korea. It was an inexpensive, everyday staple, but also an essential part of the holidays. Every year for Chuseok, the mouthwatering aroma of oil and batter would draw everyone to the kitchen, where a colorful assortment of jeon was being prepared.
Holly now lives halfway across the world from North Korea, but every year during Chuseok, she sets out an offering table for charye. For hours, she prepares foods like pajeon with great care, remembering and honoring her parents and loved ones, who she can’t be with for the holidays.
In 2016, Holly reached freedom through LiNK’s rescue networks with one-year-old Mia in her arms.
Mia is now at an age where she’s able to understand some of the things her mother went through. Holly has begun to open up more about her life in North Korea, and does her best to keep their small family connected to their Korean heritage. She takes Mia to Korean language school on Sundays, and makes an effort to celebrate cultural holidays, like Chuseok. What can’t be put into words, Holly communicates through food—their dinner table is always full of delicious Korean cooking.
In 2024, Holly received her US citizenship, nine years after her resettlement!
"When I obtained my US citizenship, it felt like my escape journey was finally complete. I cried and felt so grateful to the US for giving me a new life. My greatest happiness is seeing Mia have a childhood free of the painful hardships that defined mine.”
These days, Chuseok has become a lively gathering with the many friends and neighbors they’ve met over the years! Holly gathers with other Koreans in the community, and they go all-out preparing delicious seongpyeon and pajeon. She takes great pride in wearing traditional hanboks with Mia, and explaining each dish when guests arrive. The festivities always continue long after dinner, with Korean games like jegichagi, a version of hacky sack, and yutnori, a board game.
Living in the US, Holly and Mia have been introduced to new traditions too. Just a month after Chuseok, their community gathers again to celebrate Thanksgiving with turkey and pumpkin pie, in true American fashion.
Holly still has hope that in her lifetime, she’ll be able to celebrate Chuseok with all her family and bring Mia to visit her hometown in North Korea.
We’re working towards the day when families don’t have to be separated. To date, LiNK has rescued almost 1400 North Korean refugees and their children, reuniting over 500 people with their families in freedom. As we’re helping North Koreans, like Holly, build new lives, we’re also leading initiatives to increase change inside North Korea, through advocacy, information access, and more.
Become a monthly donor and create a long-lasting legacy of freedom. Your support will rescue North Korean refugees waiting for their chance to escape right now, and fuel work that is increasing change and opening inside North Korea.
