The Moment I Chose Freedom
I remember sitting in an empty apartment.
There was nothing. No bed, no chair, no dishes, no clothes. I sat on the floor and stared at the wall for hours, wondering “what do I do now?” I was alone in a new country. I had lost all my friends and I had no idea what happened to my family.
It all started over a dinner in Beijing. I am from North Korea’s elite class and I was one of the few university students that was allowed to study abroad. In China, I met a few South Korean students and we became friends. One night over dinner they began talking about human rights in North Korea. They criticized my country and I was so confused. What are human rights? What is a dictatorship? What is freedom?
I grew up very comfortably in North Korea’s capital, Pyongyang. I never went hungry and I could buy whatever I wanted. I even owned a South Korean computer and I played video games on it. But there were also moments when I questioned things. There was the time I was interrogated for 3 days for giving a friend some South Korean movies. Or the time my dad had to bribe the police to let me go.
But I thought it was like that everywhere. I cried in the taxi on the ride home that night. I was so frustrated that I didn’t have the words to defend my homeland. I went back to my dorm room and began searching the internet for information on human rights.
My idea of North Korea died that night.
The place I called home and the only system I had ever known was all a lie. I couldn’t stop crying as I watched a documentary about North Korea’s political prison camps. I didn’t go to class after that. I stopped hanging out with most of my friends and spent most of my time reading and learning about things I had never known about my country.
A couple weeks later I was at an ice rink in Beijing. As I was watching these little Chinese kids skate around so carefree, something broke deep inside me. I thought about the North Korean children in the documentaries who would never get to enjoy something like this. That’s when I knew I had to do something.
I began devouring books about democracy and freedom. I watched more documentaries and read the political classics like Plato’s The Republic.
If the regime discovered I was reading that book, it could have cost me my life.
But I couldn’t kill my curiosity. I couldn’t unlearn what I now knew and I definitely couldn’t go back to North Korea.
One morning I received a call from the North Korean embassy in Beijing. They asked me to come in because they said something was wrong with my visa. Nothing like this had ever happened before so it seemed strange. I was convinced that they knew what I had been reading and thinking about. I agreed to come in and hung up.
I never went to the embassy.
I destroyed my phone and ID cards that day and left my dorm room with some cash. A couple days later I found a South Korean pastor and he helped me find a way to get safely to South Korea.
It has been six years since I sat in that empty apartment on my first day as a free South Korean citizen. There was a moment while I sat there where I began to question everything. Did I make the wrong choice? What did I do to my family? Will I really be okay on my own now?
But then I reminded myself—I came here with a purpose: to learn about democracy and to help my people get their freedom. So I put on my shoes and went to buy groceries for the first time.
Walking Forward with Brightness | Joseph’s Story: Part 2
That semester, for the first time in my life, I received an academic award for excellence and made the dean’s list at school. I went on to graduate from high school and study political science at Bard College. After my undergraduate studies, I had the honor to work for former President George W. Bush, who had made it possible for me and other North Koreans to come to America as refugees. Over the years, he has became a personal role model and friend.
Today, I am pursuing a master's degree in Public Administration at the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard University. At Harvard, I’ve met people from all different walks of life. When I met students on government scholarships or born into generational wealth, I did not envy them because I have a dream that is bigger than me and bigger than my life.
But when I met a classmate from Ghana, it was the first time I felt envious. He said, "Kim, I’m learning so much here, and I can’t wait to take these skills and knowledge back home to improve my country after graduation."
I envied him for having a home he could return to. For having the opportunity to try, fail, fail again, and eventually make a difference in his homeland.
I, too, dream of the day when I can finally return to North Korea—when it is a place where every man, woman, and child is free to live with dignity, to learn about the world, and to shape their own identity - one that is not given or defined by the government.
In a free North Korea, I dream of returning to my home in Hoeryong—the last place we were a family together, to see if the pear tree my father had planted is still there.
In a free North Korea, I dream of teaching high school students in my hometown and caring for orphans. My students will attend Harvard University and be able to say, “I’m learning so much, and can’t wait to use these skills to improve my country.”
I know that my dreams might sound impossible, but being here in the US, sharing my story with you should have been impossible. You’re looking at someone who survived a famine, escaped North Korea in broad daylight; an elementary school drop out who is attending the best university in the world, and a former refugee who today serves on the board of the organization that helped him reach freedom.
Since its founding, LiNK has helped nearly 1,400 North Koreans escape to freedom. These aren’t just numbers—they are people like me. Individuals and families whose lives were transformed and whose future generations will only know what it means to live in freedom.
Thank you for standing with us, for your unwavering commitment to the protection, rescue and resettlement of North Korean refugees, and for investing in our future through programs that equip our community with skills and confidence to define our own success and contribute to the change we dream of for North Korea.
No organization has done more to partner, support, empower, and believe in the North Korean people than Liberty in North Korea. It is truly a special organization, and I don’t say this because I have to, now that I sit on the board. To do the work that we do requires an immense level of trust and respect, which begins from the moment North Korean people connect with LiNK and is evident through the actions of the staff, the wisdom of the board, the passion of student chapters, and the incredible commitment of our donors.
From afar, North Korea looks like a country as dark as the sea at night. But it is not a land of darkness, merely a land with darkness. There is suffering and hardship, but there is also unimaginable beauty, immeasurable resilience, and 25 million people who have to choose hope every day.
I know that the journey to freedom cannot be made alone. I am no longer a child. I am wiser today. But that doesn’t mean I have everything figured out. I choose to walk forward not because of the things I am certain about, but in spite of everything I am uncertain about. I choose to walk forward with brightness and hope—for my family, for my people, and for my homeland.
And I hope you will walk with me until finally, we can walk into a free North Korea together.
Read part 1 of Joseph’s story about his escape and arrival in the United States
In freedom, Joseph’s constant striving has led him down a path of extraordinary achievement. Yet in his mind, each opportunity was just the next best way for him to grow his capacity to work on this issue. To have him join the organization's Board of Directors as the first North Korea-born member is truly a full circle moment.
The North Korean people have the same brightness and potential as Joseph. Help make this kind of story possible for more of them.
