"And We Will Be Free" Jo Eun's Story
The Tumen River starts on the slopes of Mount Paektu. Its icy waters twist and turn for hundreds of miles before slipping off the Korean peninsula and into the East Sea. In the summer, the reeds along the river grow taller than me and yellow and white wildflowers blossom along the banks.
I was born next to the Tumen. I grew up playing on its rocky shore, splashing and swimming in its waters. In the winter my friends and I would race up and down on ice skates. For my mom’s birthday, we would catch fish and cook them under the shade of a tree. I have many fond memories of the Tumen.
But I want to tell you about the times I tried to cross it. Because those times nearly cost me my life. The Tumen is more than a river. It’s a razor that cuts its way between North Korea and China. It’s a meandering border of shallow water that you can wade across in minutes. And in the winter, you can slide across its ice even faster. Just like I did for the final time last year.
I decided to cross the Tumen for the first time 8 years ago. I did it for my daughter. Her name is Hee-Mang which means hope in Korean. As a baby she was so calm and happy. I would adore her sweet smile and when I held her it melted away the pain and heartache of life in North Korea.
When she started saying “mommy” and took her first steps I was ecstatic. Her laughter was precious and her eyes beamed with life. But I was always worried that I couldn’t be a good mother.
I wanted to give Hee-Mang a better life than I had.
I knew of friends who had defected to South Korea. They sent money back and their families seemed to be much better off. So I decided to leave North Korea to make money and eventually bring Hee-Mang to freedom.
The first time I tried to cross the Tumen I didn’t get far. The broker I hired to help me escape worked for the secret police. They dragged me out of my hiding spot and sent me off to a detention center.
That’s where I first learned how much freedom would actually cost.
It was March and a pregnant woman arrived after being arrested in China. The courtyard of the detention center was covered in snow and ice. The guard forced her to walk around on her hands and knees in the snow for hours. He mocked her, saying that you got pregnant with the baby of a dog so you have to walk like a dog. Then he’d pry open her mouth and spit in it. If any of us cried or pleaded for him to show mercy, he’d force us to do the same.
When we weren’t crammed into our cells, sleeping on a filthy floor, we were forced to work. From 5am to 11pm we’d go into the mountains to gather firewood. The labor left your hands raw with blisters and the cold bit at your fingers and toes.
We were only fed a quarter of an ear of corn per meal. It was never enough and the hunger clawed at our stomachs. People grew so hungry that the guards had to drag them from the toilets so they wouldn’t eat their own feces. Some mornings I woke up to find one of my cellmates stiff and lifeless. We’d march off to gather firewood and their pale body just laid there, their cheeks hollowed out from the hunger.
One afternoon, I decided to escape. I walked over to an unlocked window, flung myself out the opening, and started running. For 4 days I trekked through the wilderness until I reached my hometown. But from the hill above my parent’s house I could see the security agents waiting for me. I had no place to go and I was terrified of being caught. I wanted to see Hee-Mang again but it was too dangerous.
So I returned to the Tumen River. It was summer now – when the rains come up from the south and the river swells into a rage. It was pouring the night I crossed and the current swept me downstream. I waded out on the other side and into China. A Chinese family gave me food and dry clothes and when I told them I needed to go to South Korea, they connected me with a broker.
I moved south through China with a group of 12 other North Korean refugees. We were nearly to Southeast Asia when we stopped to spend the night in a small motel. There were two young boys with us. They were 9 and 10 and they were running around the motel yelling in Korean. The receptionist must have overheard them.
I was on the fourth floor when I heard police sirens outside. I raced to the window but it was bolted shut with metal bars. The Chinese police barged into the room and handcuffed all of us.
There was a teenage girl with us whose mom was waiting for her in South Korea. She wailed and pleaded with the Chinese police: “Please please, can I just go to be with my mom. She’s going to be so worried about me. I just need my mom.” She cried out over and over. As a mother I felt terrible for her. I just wanted to tell her that it would be alright. But we all knew that was a lie.
We were returned to North Korea.
The secret police demanded the women strip naked and they searched our genitals for anything we might have hidden, slapping and whipping us and calling us whores the entire time. My interrogator wanted me to confess to trying to defect to South Korea. I begged her to understand my situation but instead she grabbed my head and slammed it against a nail in the wall. I remember thinking as she took a fistful of my hair “Is this my fate? Is this how I’ll die? The tears mixed with the blood pouring out of the gash in my forehead.
I couldn’t let go of the thought of Hee-Mang growing up without a mom. I wanted to be a good mother, I wanted to give her everything she deserved. I knew I couldn’t die here.
Everyone in my group but me was sent to a political prison camp, even those two little boys. But because I refused to confess to trying to defect, I avoided that fate and was instead transferred to another prison where I was forced to work 18 hours a day in a gold mine to earn money for the regime.
They worked us so hard and fed us so little. But I had a daughter waiting for me. And now more than ever, I wanted her to live in freedom. Life in prison was so difficult that I considered killing myself many times. There is a saying in North Korea “Women are weak, but mothers are strong”. Being Hee-Mang’s mother gave me the strength to withstand the pain. For two years, I endured the back-breaking work hoping for the day I would reunite with Hee-Mang.
3 years after I was released I stood next to the Tumen again, staring north and dreaming of freedom. This time I had Hee-Mang with me. She was 4 years old now and I wanted her to have a happy, fulfilling life. I wanted her to see the world and learn about other cultures. There was nothing for her in North Korea except pain and misery. So I scooped her up from her bed and carried her out of the house.
I put her on my back, her head nestled on my shoulder, and waded into the river. I was almost to the middle of the river when her foot touched the water.
Hee-Mang woke up and whimpered “Oh it’s cold.” That’s all it took.
The border guards heard her and raced down to the water. I waded faster and faster with Hee-Mang’s little arms wrapped tightly around my neck. I lunged with each step trying desperately to get away. Then I felt a hand grab my hair. Hee-Mang started screaming as I tried to fight them off. But when they ripped her from me, I had no choice. I surrendered.
They dragged us back to shore and started kicking me and stomping on my head. And then they kicked my daughter. My precious, beautiful, Hee-Mang. An innocent 4-year old girl. She was sobbing in pain and her cries for mommy were muffled by the blood spilling out from her mouth.
I jumped on top of her to cover her little body from the soldiers’ boots. I pleaded with them to beat me instead. She didn’t know what was going on.
It wasn’t her fault. “It was me, I did this! Punish me, not her!” I screamed.
--
Last year I crossed the Tumen for the final time. I could see my breath as I shuffled across the ice on my hands and knees. I crawled up the other bank into China, bent back the barbed wire, and ran for the van that was waiting for me on the other side. From the van, I looked back at North Korea and wondered if I’d ever come back or see Hee-Mang again.
This time I connected with someone that knew a group helping North Korean refugees reach safety. The group turned out to be Liberty in North Korea and they helped me move quickly out of the border region and then we headed south. I couldn’t eat or sleep until we made it out of China because I was so scared of getting caught. Every time the bus stopped, I was certain that the police had found me again.
But soon I found myself crossing the border into Southeast Asia. When LiNK’s field staffer told me I was finally safe I was overwhelmed. I had endured so much to make it this far - hard labor, imprisonment, and torture. And even though I was overjoyed to make it to freedom, I was deeply saddened that Hee-Mang wasn’t with me.
I left her with my family because I couldn’t bear the thought of her getting caught again and sent to a political prison camp. I question that decision every day.
Today I owe it to my daughter to tell my story. Hee-Mang is like a lighthouse to me. She gives me light and a reason for why I need to keep living and working hard for freedom. I hold onto the dream that one day we will live together again.
Before I left last year I bought us matching watches. It’s just a cheap watch, but to me it has more value than any jewel. When I miss her, I wear it and I have hope that each minute that passes is one minute closer to the day I will see her again.
I wouldn’t be telling this story today without the support of people like you. Thank you for helping me escape and finally reach freedom. Your willingness to help North Koreans even though you do not know our names or see our faces, is unbelievable. Your generosity has changed my life and the lives of so many others.
But most of all, you give me hope that one day I will be able to return to the Tumen River and walk hand in hand with Hee-Mang.
And we will no longer have to be afraid. Because we will be together.
And we will be free.
Thank you.
North Korean Women's Football Team Arrives in Suwon: Propaganda vs Real People
⏱️ 30-Second Summary
- Inter-Korean Women’s Soccer: The AWCL semi-final between Suwon FC Women and North Korea's Naegohyang Women's Football Club has been confirmed for May 20th at Suwon Sports Complex. This visit by a North Korean sports delegation will be the first of its kind in nearly eight years.
- High-Stakes: In North Korea, social advancement is nearly impossible if one’s “songbun” (political status) is unfavorable. The realm of sports is a rare exception. A win in an international competition secures a jump in social standing. On the other hand, the cost of failure is just as high.
- The Women Behind the Uniform: Two documentaries by Director Brigitte Weich, Hana, Dul, Sed and Ned, Tassot, Yossot offer a glimpse of the passion, friendship, and subsequent lives of North Korean athletes.
The First North Korean Sports Delegation to Visit South Korea in Eight Years
On May 20th, Pyongyang-based Naegohyang Women’s FC and South Korea’s Suwon FC Women will be facing off in the semi-finals of the AFC Women’s Champions League. The match will take place in South Korea at the Suwon Sports Complex. This visit by a North Korean sports delegation will be the first of its kind in nearly eight years. The last time a North Korean women’s football team competed on southern soil was at the 2014 Incheon Asian Games.
The North Korean women’s football team has consistently demonstrated world-class strength. Expectations for their upcoming match are high, naturally leading to questions about the individuals representing the world’s most closed country: How did North Korean women’s football reach this level? Under what conditions are these athletes playing? And how will their lives continue after the match ends?
World-Class Athleticism: North Korean Women's National Football Team
As of April 21, 2026, the North Korean women's national football team is 11th in the FIFA rankings, placing it in the top tier globally. Comparatively, South Korea is ranked 19th. The North Korean team has maintained its status with multiple wings in international tournaments, including the U-17 and U-20 Women’s World Cups.
Naegohyang Women's Football Club is the reigning champion of North Korea's top-tier women's football league, celebrating its 10th anniversary in 2022. In the quarterfinals of the AFC Women’s Champions League, they defeated Vietnam's Ho Chi Minh City Women’s FC to secure their ticket to Suwon.
This strong performance is not limited to just the Naegohyang club. North Korean women’s football has also won the U-17 and U-20 Women’s World Cups multiple times. At the 2025 U-17 tournament held in Morocco, the team once again claimed the title by defeating the Netherlands 3-0.
From Elementary School to Pyongyang
In an interview with Kyunghyang Newspaper, Professor Hyun In-ae of Ewha Women’s University attributed the strength of North Korean women’s soccer “not the the popularization of athletic activities, but rather to state-led selection and development.”
The development of athletes in North Korea begins at a very young age. North Korean authorities reportedly "bring football prodigies from across the country to Pyongyang starting in elementary school and train them systematically." Recognizing that performance in international competitions contributes to the national image, the state provides support ranging from European-style training systems to even overseas training camps.
Medals, Apartments, and Coal Mines: A System Where Winning and Losing Determine One’s Life
In North Korea, social advancement is nearly impossible if one’s “songbun” (political status) is unfavorable. The realm of sports is a rare exception. Winning a medal at an international competition secures a jump in social standing.
For competitions like the Asian Games, individuals who bring home a medal are awarded the title of "Merited Athlete.” For events at the level of the Olympics or World Championships, the “People’s Athlete” honor is bestowed. Decorated athletes with many medals may receive the title of “Labor Hero,” and potentially even the highest distinction of all: "Hero of the Republic." On top of such recognition, unique comforts like athletic pensions, luxury apartments, and imported cars may be rewarded.
On the other hand, the cost of failure is just as high. After losing to a South Korean competitor at the judo finals of the 1990 Beijing Asia Games, Ri Chang-su, a North Korean “Merited Athlete" was sent to labor in a coal mine. He testified as follows: "I truly lived my life working hard for my country, yet simply because I took second place, they sent me to a coal mine and wouldn't even let me quit the sport." After a loss in the 2010 World Cup in South Africa, the entire North Korean men’s national team was summoned to Pyongyang and subjected to a six-hour public criticism session in front of 400 people.
North Korean Sports as a Tool for Propaganda
When it comes to understanding North Korean sports, glory and punishment are inextricably bound together because it serves as a form of propaganda. The regime sees it as a tool to "promote the regime internationally and publicize its achievements domestically."
Following the North Korean women's national football team's victory at the 2024 U-20 tournament, Sin Yong-chol, Chairman of the Football Association under the Ministry of Physical Culture and Sports, remarked in Rodong Newspaper that "sports are precisely a war without the sound of gunfire waged against enemies in peacetime."
For the North Korean athletes coming to compete in Suwon on May 20th, the weight resting on their shoulders is far more than just the outcome of the match.
The Lives of North Korean Women Athletes: Documentary Hana, Dul, Sed
Despite the circumstances under which they play, North Korean athletes cannot be defined solely by the role assigned to them by the regime. Beyond the language of propaganda, there are ordinary people who genuinely love football.
In 2009, Austrian filmmakers Brigitte Weich and Karin Macher released Hana, Dul, Sed (One, Two, Thee), a documentary that closely chronicles the lives of four athletes from the North Korean women's national team: Ri Jong-hui, Ra Mi-ae, Jin Byeol-hui, and Ri Hyang-ok. These women played a pivotal role in elevating North Korean women’s football to world-class status. However, after their elimination in the qualifiers for the Athens Olympics, the careers of the four athletes came to a sudden end.
The film’s protagonists are not the North Korean regime, but the players themselves. Towards the end of the film, Ra Mi-ae, known for her lively personality, and Ri Hyang-ok, known as “the beauty of the team,” reminisce over the friendship they forged during their training days. They mention that since being dismissed from the team, they rarely get to see each other anymore.
Attempting to articulate the allure of soccer, Ri Hyang-ok chokes up, “The moment I stepped into the stadium, my heart opened wide—it felt as though I could embrace the whole world."
Through rare personal accounts, Hana, Dul, Sed offers a humanizing perspective of the athletes who take the field on behalf of North Korea. These individuals are not just tools of the regime, but people driven by the love of the game, just like the members of the teams they face.
The Universal Experience of Women
Five years after Hana, Dul, Sed, Director Weich returned to Pyongyang to meet with the same four athletes featured in her original documentary. She shares the story of how their lives had evolved in the sequel, Ned, Tassot, Yossot (Four, Five Six): The Legends of North Korean Women’s Football (2023).
Even after retirement, the former national football team players have remained close to the sport. They have each established themselves as FIFA-affiliated referees, coaches, or mentors, dedicated to nurturing the next generation of athletes.
The documentary also captures the muti-dimensional nature of these women’s lives. Lee Jung-hee, former goalkeeper of the team, is shown juggling life as a student and as a mother of a young daughter. Anxieties surrounding marriage, pregnancy, childbirth, and raising a family—all while struggling to sustain one’s career—are common themes.
While telling the unique stories of these women in North Korea, the film also conveys a deeper truth, that their lives are not so different from those of women in any other country.
What’s Next: Potential Rematch at the 2027 Brazil World Cup
The AWCL semi-final on May 20th will be the first time North and South Korean athletes face each other on South Korean soil in eight years. Both teams have already secured their spots in the 2027 Women’s World Cup finals. South Korea advanced to the semifinals of the 2026 Asian Cup, while North Korea secured a ticket to Brazil by defeating Taiwan 4–0 in the March playoffs. Depending on the results of the group stage draw, the possibility of a national team rematch remains open.
Beyond the Score, the Right of Twenty-Two Players to Live an Ordinary Day
The upcoming match on May 20th is an opportunity for the world to see this issue—typically treated as political—from a more universal perspective: that of women and sports. The North Korean athletes playing that day are more than subjects of a news report or the public faces of a political regime. They are fellow human beings, taking the field with passion and love for the game.
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