A North Korean Mom and Son’s Harrowing Escape | Harry’s Story
The town I grew up in was surrounded by mountains. When the season was right, my friends and I would hike up to look for pears. Fresh fruit was a luxury in North Korea, but the mountainside was covered in orchards. One day we snuck in when the fruit was still green, hoping to avoid the guards.
I hid in a tree, passing down pears to my friends, when we heard a whistle blow. My heart was pounding; it was like a heist movie. I rolled away and ran out of danger. Somehow, we got away with it. It didn’t even matter that the fruit we ate was not ripe and made our stomachs hurt—we felt unstoppable.
Little did I know that just a few years later, I would be running for my life once again… but this time, it was not a game. I would be escaping from North Korea.
Life in North Korea was normal to me. I went to school and spent time with my friends and older sister. All I knew about South Korea was from the movies I’d secretly watched. It seemed like a scary place, where they trafficked drugs and stole your organs.
My mom was often busy with work. She had a job that connected North Koreans to China, wiring money between families. With her income, we were able to live comfortably. But it was risky. She could usually bribe the guards to let her cross the border safely, but it wouldn’t work forever. One day, she was caught and sent to one of North Korea’s brutal prison camps.
My mom spent two years in the prison camp, forced to do intense labor every day while barely being fed. She told us later that she had shared a concrete cell with 50 other people and they lacked basic things like soap, toilet paper, and sanitary products. Guards would abuse their power and find any reason to assault them.
Many people in the camp were also women who had been arrested for crossing the border, trying to find ways to make a living and take care of their children. Dying in prison meant your crimes would be passed on to your family. And so, many of those women endured faithfully until they were released, and then passed away afterward.
When my mom finally left the camp, she quit the work she was doing and told her clients she was done. But one of them refused to hear it.
He was a South Korean fisherman whose boat had been thrown off course by a typhoon, and North Korean authorities refused to let him return home. One night, he showed up drunk at our house and threatened my mom. If she didn’t take him across the border, he would turn her in. So she had no choice. None of us did.
My mom took me with her and brought the old man to the border of North Korea. We were supposed to meet some brokers who would take him across, but they couldn’t agree on a price or a place. After a few days of waiting, everything went wrong.
The police had discovered our plan. They had our photos and were already putting up wanted posters for our capture. There was no way we could go home now. The choice was made for us. We had to flee the country with the old man.
I thought I would die that night. Armed soldiers patrol the river bordering North Korea and China, and are told to shoot defectors on sight.
If caught, my mom would have faced life in prison for her second offense—no better than a death sentence. But somehow, we made it to the other side.
In China, we waited three days in the mountains for our brokers. Every moment spent at a standstill was a huge risk, because Chinese authorities pay local citizens to report North Korean refugees. When it became clear that help wasn’t coming, we headed for a nearby village, laying low in the grass until the cover of night.
By nightfall, we took our chances and entered the village. Luckily, we met a kind woman who introduced us to a new broker. This broker helped us get to another city where the old man was picked up by South Korean officials and flown home to his family. As for me and my mom, we couldn’t go back to North Korea. So we went to see my middle sister, who had already been in China for quite some time.
Before I was born, my mom took my two sisters to China with her. She wanted them to stay there safely, but my oldest sister refused and returned to North Korea with my mom. My middle sister was left behind, sent to live with a trusted friend. But the unthinkable happened. At 12 years old, she was trafficked and sold to be married to a much older man. Every night, she would stand by the water well, threatening to hang herself if the man came near her.
But one year later, the inevitable happened. When she was just 13 years old, she had a baby.
Like many other young North Korean women, my sister went across the border seeking a better life, but ended up living her teenage years in captivity, with no laws or family to protect her. Every day she had imagined running away, until finally she did. She reunited with my mom in North Korea when she was 20.
But not everything went as hoped. Though she was happy to be together with our family again, it turned out life was just as hard in North Korea. In the end, my sister returned to her daughter in China just a few years later.
It had been years since we last saw my sister, and it was my first time meeting her daughter, my niece. We were the same age. For a month, we all enjoyed the bittersweet reunion. Then my sister connected us with another broker, and my mom and I finally escaped for good.
We eventually reached South Korea and it turns out, it wasn’t the dangerous country I had seen in movies.
Still, the memories of everything we had been through tormented me. I was angry at the old man who pressured us into his escape plan. I hated that my mom chose such a risky job in the first place.
Later we found out my oldest sister had been tortured by North Korean authorities when we left, leaving her devastated by mental illness. They wanted her to confess that our family had helped the old man escape. Someone had to take the blame. My older sister, who was once strong and reliable, would never be the same again.
When I first reached South Korea, I hid my past. Everything was terrifying and different—the culture, the lifestyle, and even the language. My new friends would hang out at internet cafes and I didn’t even know how to use a computer.
But I started learning. I studied hard in school and got a job to support myself. I began reading books to develop my own philosophy for my new life. I even started playing video games and for better or for worse, became just as obsessed as everyone else.
When I got to high school, I finally told my friends the truth about my life. Their response was so different from what I had expected. I found that rather than being cruel, they were curious. I realized the importance of my story, and how sharing my family’s painful experiences could change people’s perspectives about North Korea.
In 2019, at the end of high school, I met someone from Liberty in North Korea. I was so curious how she spoke about North Korea. She invited me to attend their Changemakers Summit and I had never experienced anything like that before—South Koreans, North Koreans, and even foreigners who were all young, open-minded, and interested in how to make an impact on this issue.
Truthfully, I never saw myself as an activist. I didn’t think I had what it takes.
But if I could change how just one person saw North Korea—to see the people and their resilience, bravery, and hope instead of the regime—I realized I was already acting as an advocate.
These days, I’m working and studying full time. After coming to South Korea my mom got her masters degree and is now writing a book about her life. My middle sister eventually escaped and joined us in South Korea too. She got remarried and finally gets to live a normal life. Even though we’re all pursuing different things, we’re still together, holding tightly to the hope that we will someday reunite with my older sister.
Today, I can be my own person. I can buy fresh fruit whenever I want, or walk along the Han river anytime. After all of the running and all of the pain, I am finally free to choose my own life.
Harry’s story echoes that of many North Korean refugees, who live with the weight of their past while grasping onto hope for the future. After what happened to his oldest sister, Harry says he has nothing left to lose. That’s why he chooses to speak openly about the horrific things he and his family have experienced, hoping to bring change and one day reunite with her in a free North Korea.
Help us continue to to sustain refugee rescues, empowerment programs, and efforts to change the way the world sees North Korea.
Give Today
A North Korean Refugee’s Legacy of Freedom | Holly & Mia’s Story
As a little girl in North Korea, I dreamt of becoming a musician. When I was 6 years old, I saw my school teacher playing the organ. After class one day, I went up and placed my hands on the keys, trying to mimic what she played. When the teacher got back, she asked who touched the organ. All the kids looked at me and I thought I’d get in trouble, but instead of punishing me, she started teaching me how to read music. Eventually, my teacher came to my home and urged my parents to send me to Pyongyang, North Korea’s capital, to pursue music with some of the country’s best musicians.
But my parents knew I could not achieve my dream. My grandfather had been a landowner before the North Korean regime took power. When the Korean War broke out, he had fled to the South, never to be heard from again. The regime didn’t forget my family’s past - to them, we were traitors. Before I was even born, my future had been decided.
I couldn’t attend a university or get a good job. While others studied, I would have to dig for coal and sell it.
One night, I was gathering firewood on a mountain near the South Korean border with another girl. In the distance, I saw a town that was dazzlingly bright in the dark evening. Electricity is a luxury in North Korea, and I soon realized I was looking across the border. I had secretly watched South Korean movies for years. I had seen the delicious food they ate and the amazing places they traveled. I stared at the lights and dreamed of what my life could be.
The dream was too powerful to ignore. I worked every day from sunrise to sunset to save money for my escape.
I gathered rare mushrooms on the slopes of North Korea’s tallest mountain, through the bitter cold. After sixty trips, I had enough money to hire a broker to help me escape into China.
But I trusted the wrong broker.
The broker betrayed us and sold us out. Soldiers were waiting for us at the meeting point and we were dragged from the river to an interrogation cell. The secret police want you to confess that you were trying to defect to South Korea. They beat you with a stick and slam your head against a wall until you just want the pain to stop. But if you confess, you’re sent to a political prison camp to die like an animal.
So I refused to say anything. They kept beating me and screaming at me, but I closed my eyes and held on to my dream of freedom. It was two weeks before they finally sent me to a detention center.
A woman in my cell told me about another broker who could help me escape. But there was a catch - I would have to be sold to a man in China.
I chose the unimaginable. I was sold for less than $3,000.
It is hard for me to talk about this time in my life. The man who bought me kept me in a small bedroom in his house. In one month, I was pregnant. When he found out, he told me to get an abortion. I refused. He tried to drug me and take me to get an abortion while I was unconscious.
One night I felt sick and thought it was food poisoning, but I was in labor and rushed to the hospital. After twenty hours, the doctor had to perform an emergency c-section. The man who bought me complained about the extra expense.
But when I woke up, there was my beautiful baby. I put her on my chest and knew she was my everything. My new dream was to give my daughter Mia a chance to have a better life than me.
I knew we couldn’t stay in China. The man who bought me didn’t want a child, and every day we stayed was another day we could get caught. But I couldn’t take a newborn baby on the dangerous journey. I waited until Mia was one year old, making secret plans with someone who could help us escape - now I know they were part of LiNK’s rescue network.
The day of our escape finally came, and we went to a safe house. I had Mia on my back and a bag full of diapers, clothes, and a small bracelet that was a gift for her. It was everything we had. We met up with other North Koreans, and they were not happy that Mia and I were joining them. I could not blame them. There were stories about groups that were caught because of a crying baby.
Taking care of a one year old is hard enough. Doing so while avoiding the Chinese police was one of the hardest things I have ever done.
I didn’t want Mia to cry so I never put her down, even when my back and arms ached from rocking her. We never stopped for more than a few hours so I had to breastfeed her along the way. Whenever we did have a break, I’d change her diapers, clean her, and make sure she ate enough. By the time I was done, we had to move again. I didn’t have time to eat so I went days with barely any food.
But every mile we traveled brought us closer to our new life. One hot morning, we climbed into a boat and crossed a river. With Mia in my arms, we were met by LiNK’s field team who welcomed us into freedom.
There are two days I will never forget. The day Mia was born and the day I arrived in the United States. I cried so much walking out of the airport. I had no idea what our new life would look like, but we were together and we were finally free.
Now when Mia falls asleep in my arms, all I feel is happiness. My story used to only be about my dreams, but now, I am watching my daughter grow into a fearless and curious person. If I never decided to escape and if I didn’t have LiNK’s help, Mia’s life would be so different. Instead of growing hungry, she has a full stomach. Instead of learning North Korean propaganda, she’s learning about science and animals and the world. Instead of fearing we could be sent to a political prison camp, I just worry she’s growing up too soon.
I believe that one day, every North Korean will be free. And every child will be able to write their own story, like my Mia.
Thanks to Holly’s bravery and the help of LiNK supporters around the world, Mia will never know a life without freedom. Holly will be leaving behind a legacy of freedom for her daughter and for generations to come.
You can help rescue more North Korean refugees and support them as they begin their new lives.
