North Korean Refugee Stories: Meet Yoon Suk
Yoon Suk has vivid, happy memories of growing up in North Korea. She was raised during a time when state-socialism was relatively functioning, and the government could provide basic necessities to its citizens. She remembers wearing beautiful nylon (a highly-sought after fabric back in the earlier days of North Korea) uniforms with bows and red, patent-leather shoes to school. She also had a passion for the arts and performed frequently on stage. But as she grew older, the shine in her shoes began to fade and the hunger in her belly began to grow.
After the collapse of the Soviet Union, North Korea lost crucial sources of subsidized trade and aid and the North Korean economy crashed. It was during this time that Yoon Suk got married, but what should have been a happy time in her life ended up being far from it. The regime’s mismanaged agricultural and environmental policies were confounded by harsh weather, plunging the country into a severe famine that lasted for years. Yoon Suk and her husband struggled to survive on the meager rations they received—and they were not alone. During this period, an estimated one million people died from starvation, while many of those who survived suffered immensely.
Yoon Suk, knowing that she had to do something to keep her family alive during the most difficult years of the “Arduous March,” turned to the jangmadang—small, illegal markets where people sold and traded anything they could for food. Yoon Suk was like many North Korean women in this new reality, abandoning her traditional role for market activities. Unfortunately, running her modest merchant business was more challenging than she had anticipated and she struggled to keep it afloat. As the situation grew worse, she discontinued her business and looked for other ways to support her family, which had grown by two with the birth of her sons. It was during this time that she learned that life might be better in booming China.
As recently as three decades ago, Chinese people were on average poorer than their North Korean neighbors. But China’s economic reforms have produced wealth and opportunities that are the envy of nearly all North Koreans today. Since North Korea’s economic collapse, which lead to unprecedented cross-border movement and inflows of Chinese goods and media, North Koreans have gained a painful awareness of just how far their formerly impoverished Chinese neighbors have come.
But it’s extremely risky for North Koreans to escape their country. The North Korean regime makes it illegal to leave without explicit permission and if Yoon Suk was caught trying to escape, or caught in China and sent back, she would be punished severely. Yet, the opportunity was too great to pass up and she fled for the first time in the mid-2000s.
Once she arrived, alone in a foreign country where she didn’t speak the language, Yoon Suk was sold to a Chinese man as his bride. China’s lack of marriageable women, particularly in rural areas of the northeast, creates high demand for female North Korean refugees like Yoon Suk. Without legal status and no protection from the authorities, these women are often kidnapped by sex traffickers and sold, sometimes for as little as $200.
Even though she was now living with a Chinese man, Yoon Suk still wasn’t safe from the watchful eye of the Chinese authorities. North Korean refugees’ well-founded fear of persecution if repatriated means that they should be protected under international refugee law. However, the Chinese government labels them as “economic migrants,” so they can forcibly send them back, as per their agreement with the North Korean regime. Yoon Suk was caught by Chinese police not even a month after arriving and was forcibly repatriated back to North Korea. There, the authorities sent her to a prison camp, where she was abused, beaten, and starved.
After all she had gone through, Yoon Suk was still undeterred from finding freedom outside of North Korea. She escaped again to China shortly after her release from the prison camp. She was sold off three times by traffickers, again under the pretense that she was going to be given work. With the last husband, she had her beautiful daughter.
Yoon Suk wanted to give her daughter a better life, and knew that would not be possible in China. Without the proper documentation, her daughter would have difficulty even going to school and would be denied the opportunities available to other Chinese children. Yoon Suk and her daughter escaped China together through Liberty in North Korea’s network and are now on their way to safety in South Korea.
Yoon Suk is excited for the life and opportunities that lie ahead of her. She’s a talented cook and wants to explore the option of obtaining a culinary certificate in South Korea. She also has high hopes for her daughter, who loves art just like her mother did as a young girl, and wants to enroll her in dance and painting lessons. Yoon Suk’s greatest wish is to reunite with her two adult sons someday. She often dreams about appearing on TV to send a message to her sons, showing them she’s alive and well.
Thank you for helping supply the funds for Yoon Suk’s rescue. Your efforts have changed her life and have provided the opportunity for her to enjoy her new LIBERTY.
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I Watched K-Dramas Inside North Korea. They Gave Me the Courage to Escape | Hannah’s Story
How many times have you checked your phone today? Fifty? A hundred? Every time we look at the screen we are connected to the world around us and an endless stream of information—news, research, entertainment.
Now imagine waking up tomorrow in a place without the internet. A place where people are executed for sharing foreign media, and where families risk their lives just to stay in touch across borders.
For 26 million people in North Korea, this is their reality. And 7 years ago, I was one of them.
I was born in Hoeryong, a city in the northernmost part of North Korea near the Tumen River. Winters were brutal and there were frequent shortages of fuel and electricity.
My father was a high school physics teacher. He was quiet, loyal and diligent. His days started at 7am in the classroom and went late into the night, even on weekends. But despite his dedication, the monthly rations he received were not enough for our family.
So in order to survive, my mother began selling goods at the market. She wanted a better life for us, and that led her to do the unthinkable—escape North Korea. Three times she tried. Three times she was caught. Each time she was imprisoned and sent to a labor camp.
The prison camp was a living hell. My mother saw women waste away from hunger and die from simple illnesses. She was one of the lucky ones; her family brought her food and medicine, an act that made her a witness to the suffering of others.
I was just 13 when I first visited her, carrying a bowl of rice. In North Korea, it falls to families to provide for their imprisoned relatives.
Seeing my mother stand there like a criminal, her head bowed before the guard, I knew this wasn't right. I should have been in school, but instead, I was sneaking food to her, hiding from the stares of strangers.
We were being punished, but I didn't understand why. I felt wronged, and in my anger, I blamed her.
My mother had made a choice to save her family, but North Korean society saw her as a criminal. My father, who had led a quiet life as a teacher, was denied opportunities at work. Our family was labeled as traitors.
In 2013, on her fourth attempt, my mother finally escaped and made it to South Korea. She worked tirelessly to send money back to North Korea to help our family. She also slowly opened a window into another world.
Using a smuggled Chinese cell phone I was able to speak to my mother from time to time. And on our secret calls she shared with me new South Korean expressions and words she was learning. As she settled into a new society, despite numerous differences, she also recognized similarities between North and South Korea and its people, and reminded me that despite decades of division, we are still one people.
I secretly began watching South Korean sitcoms. I’ll never forget one called “High Kick 3.” In one episode, there was a story about a man who fell into debt and was being chased by collectors. But what shocked me was that his family wasn’t punished for it. In North Korea, if one person “sins” the entire family is condemned. But this showed me that in South Korea, life could be different. That even within a family, you were free to make your own choices.
This realization changed me and offered a glimpse of the vast world beyond North Korea. Information, even in the form of a sitcom, was hope. And it was worth risking everything for.
Meanwhile, I continued to face obstacles in my day to day life. I had learned how to code and use software like photoshop, and I dreamed of going to university after graduation. But because my mother had defected, I was rejected. So I used my computer skills to find work as a photographer and photo editor.
Hoping to advance my career, I volunteered for the "shock brigade," a group sent to do manual labor at dangerous construction sites. While others prayed they wouldn't get picked for this kind of work, I went willingly, thinking it could be my way to a promotion.
I was sent to the Samjiyon district, a place known for its harsh winters. For over a month, I demolished buildings in minus 40-degree weather without protective gear. Dust filled my lungs, and sweat froze my clothes solid. My only relief was being able to sleep in a crumbling basement.
When I returned, expecting the promotion I had been promised, my supervisor simply said, "Let's wait a little longer."
That was the moment I understood my mother. She had risked her life to escape because she was after something more fundamental than a better life. She wanted to live like a human being.
In 2019, I made the same choice and escaped. With the help of Liberty in North Korea, I made it safely to South Korea and reunited with my mom.
Freedom wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. In North Korea, my tech and computer skills had helped me survive. I had always thought that “no matter where I go, as long as I have a computer, I’ll be fine.” But in South Korea, I struggled with something as simple as a new keyboard layout. In school, subjects like social studies felt foreign because I had grown up in a completely different education system with distorted versions of history and philosophy. My dream of going to college suddenly felt impossible.
Eventually I found my place in science. The formulas and equations in math, chemistry, and physics were the constant, unchanging truths I could always count on.
I decided to major in electrical engineering. It was rare for North Korean defectors to pursue this field. But I was determined to stay ahead and not fall behind in our rapidly changing world. Now my goal is to become an engineer who can help bridge North and South Korea’s science and technology industries when the two countries are one again.
More than ever, I see that information isn’t just about knowledge and convenience—it’s a lifeline. Without access to information, you can’t see a way forward, let alone build a future.
And right now, the people I left behind are more cut off than ever before. During the pandemic, North Korea closed its borders to an unprecedented extent. Soldiers along the border had shoot-to-kill orders for anyone trying to escape. Around 90% of the markets were forced to shut down, leaving families with barely enough to eat. The UN reported that nearly half the population—12 million people—faced food insecurity, while the World Health Organization rated North Korea’s access to medical care as the lowest in the world.
A few years ago, when my father became very sick, I was able to send him money for medicine and hospital care. But most North Koreans don’t have that chance. Without someone on the outside, they are not only cut off from resources and information, but from hope itself. For many, their future depends on a lifeline from the outside world.
Supporting North Korean people and protecting human rights cannot be put off.
We have an opportunity to be a lifeline for people inside North Korea today. To remind them that they have not been forgotten. With your support, we can rescue and support more North Korean refugees, and get more outside information and technology to people inside the country. And that information can empower North Koreans to not only see a way forward, but to ultimately determine their own future.
Despite the risks, North Koreans are quietly accessing foreign media and learning about life in the outside world. Increasing their access to uncensored information is one of the most effective ways to increase change inside the country.
Liberty in North Korea partners with North Korean defectors and engineers, like Hannah, to develop technology, content, and tools tailor-made for the North Korea context. Our goal is to empower North Koreans with information about the outside world, increasing their aspirations for social and economic progress, and building pressure for change and opening.
