URGENT: North Korean Refugees At Risk of Forced Repatriation
A Call for Advocacy and Action from LiNK’S CEO, Hannah Song
There are currently large numbers of North Korean refugees being held in detention in China, including a group of individuals who were caught earlier this year while trying to escape through LiNK’s networks. As of last month, the Chinese government has started forcibly sending them back to North Korea where they are at risk of torture, imprisonment in horrific forced labor camps, and even execution.
This comes after the North Korean government has slowly reopened the country’s borders. During the pandemic, extreme lockdowns and increased security effectively brought forced repatriations to a temporary halt. At the same time, Chinese authorities continued to arrest and detain North Korean defectors, waiting for the opportunity to send them back. UN Special Rapporteur on North Korean human rights, Elizabeth Salmon, estimated this number to have reached 2000 people.
On October 13th, in response to media reports that Chinese authorities had forcibly repatriated around 600 North Korean refugees, the South Korean government confirmed that “a large number” of North Koreans had been sent back.
We are deeply concerned about this situation and the imminent repatriation of more North Korean refugees, including specific individuals we have confirmed are currently in detention. We are closely monitoring these cases and continue to advocate directly with 10 other governments, the EU, and the UN on this issue. In September, LiNK also signed an open letter to China’s President Xi alongside civil society organizations, calling for humanitarian protection for North Korean refugees.
Right now, this issue needs more attention. The Chinese government needs to know that the world is watching and that North Korean refugees must be treated with humanity and dignity.
The Chinese government has 276 embassies and consulates representing their interests around the world, more than any other country. Please contact the embassy or consulate where you live, and also the Chinese mission to the UN, through email and social media to send a simple but direct message of concern and support for North Korean refugees.
Here's What You Can Do:
Copy, and feel free to edit, the template letter below, and email it to the Chinese Foreign Ministry via the Chinese embassy or consulate where you live, and also the Chinese mission to the UN:
Template Letter to Chinese Foreign Minister:
Twitter (X) Users:
Additionally, you can tweet at the Chinese Foreign Ministry using this template tweet:
There’s a lot going on in the world right now. The Chinese government is taking advantage of this diverted attention to quietly send North Koreans back, and it will quietly continue to do so. This is the time where we need strength in numbers and Allies around the world to clearly and firmly call out their inhumane actions.
Thank you for standing with the North Korean people.
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.
