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.
Finally Free
I went to Southeast Asia to see where LiNK’s Field Team rescues North Korean refugees. Here’s what I found…
Refugees must cross terrain like this to reach safety in Southeast Asia
We’re on a dirt road weaving around potholes.
On one side, the rice reaches to the horizon. On the other, corn stretches higher than the van.It feels like rural Iowa, but hotter and with palm trees.
The van lurches along, swaying back and forth with the ruts in the road. We’ve been driving for five hours through dense jungle and villages so small that you’d miss them if you blinked. It’s starting to seem like we’re in the middle of nowhere.
We finally coast to a stop and LiNK’s Field Manager points to a steep ravine.
“We’re here,” she says.
“We’ve rescued North Korean refugees right here,” she continues.
For the next hour we stop every couple hundred yards. She points to a field or a patch of trees and recounts stories.Stories of screeching to a stop, sliding open the door, and pulling North Korean refugees into the van.Stories of refugees so dehydrated they barely have the words to ask for water.
Stories of people collapsing in exhaustion, caked in mud and peppered with bruises from the long trek through the jungle.“What do refugees do once they’re in the van?” I ask.“Some start crying, the tears stream down their cheeks. They’re so overwhelmed that they finally made it. Others flash smiles in triumph, soaking in every second.”
I realize we’re not on just any dirt road.
This road meanders along the border. You can’t see the line but throw a stone in a certain direction and it’s likely to land in another country.For North Korean refugees this border means everything. Cross it, and they’re safe. The North Korean regime cannot have them arrested and forcibly returned.The danger is finally gone — evaporated in the sweltering heat and suffocating humidity of Southeast Asia.
For the first time in their entire lives: they are free.
It’s a week later and I’m sitting in an air-conditioned coffee shop that sells overpriced lattes.
I’m back in South Korea to interview a North Korean woman who reached freedom through LiNK’s rescue network.It took her four tries to make it to South Korea.She was arrested twice at the North Korean border and once in China. Each time the punishments seemed unimaginable, but they’re terrifyingly common.She recounts the horrific torture she endured for trying to escape. The way they slammed her head into a nail on the wall. The torment of witnessing cellmates whither away from starvation. The heartbreak of watching her 5-year old daughter being beaten in front of her.I’m trying hard to collect the facts. But hers is one of those stories that hollows you out. Leaving you nauseous and numb.The conversation dwindles. I can see the toll that sharing these stories are having. Her shoulders start to slump. She barely looks up to make eye contact anymore.I pull out my phone and show her a video. Her eyes flash with life.
20 seconds pass and she’s still glued to the phone.
It’s a video of that dirt road. And the exact place where she finally reached freedom. There are corn stalks on the left and a small farmhouse hidden behind palms leaves on the right.“Do you remember this place?” I ask.“How could I ever forget it?” she says without looking up.She’s smiling for the first time all afternoon.
