by Joseph Kim
There were some bright spots. I played pickup games of basketball and sometimes sank five jumpers in a row. I took up soccer, mastering a bicycle kick that had my schoolmates looking at me like I was some kung fu David Beckham. I made some friends, though I never told them I was North Korean. I feared that Kim Jong Il would send his agents to kidnap me, as he’d done to defectors in Japan.
All in all, I survived.
After high school I moved to New York, in July 2011. I shared a small apartment with a roommate and began working, going to college classes, and enjoying the city. My life was finally beginning to resemble the one I’d hoped for. But a few months after I arrived, I slid into a depression. It was my first time being on my own in America; I often found myself alone in my room, thinking about the past and my family. On weekdays, I was busy with a full load of classes and a part-time job, but on weekends the empty hours seemed endless. I would get a takeout meal from a Korean or Thai restaurant, lay the food out on my table, look at it, and say to myself: “How can you eat this when your mother may be starving? What kind of person enjoys his pad thai when he doesn’t even know if his own mom is alive or dead?”
The food turned bitter in my mouth, and I would open a bottle of whiskey. Often I finished it before the night was over. I lay in bed afterward, stupefied, my self-hatred at last subdued. But the next day it returned. I killed time by watching movies and grew ever more morose, until at times I felt anchored to the bed. I’d never learned how to express my deepest feelings. I was one of the lucky, I was far more blessed than my mother or father or sister. How could I possibly complain?
I suppose I was suffering from a form of survivor’s guilt, complicated by the role I’d played in my own escape. Questions kept running through my mind: What if I’d gone back to North Korea? What if I’d been able to help my mother after all? My guilt and depression got so bad that there were days I couldn’t leave my apartment.
Finally I started giving myself small chores, like taking the trash down to the street. Some days that was the only thing I accomplished. Then I assigned myself more ambitious tasks, like writing emails to five different people and taking long walks in the park. Eventually I worked up the nerve to travel to conferences on North Korea and related topics, where I was a featured speaker. At first it was simply the ego boost that lifted my spirits: “You are so brave,” people told me. “Your survival is nothing less than a miracle.” I enjoyed that. I liked being the center of attention, being recognized, after so many years as an invisible Kkotjebi.
But I felt I was being selfish, and I berated myself. You want to emulate Martin Luther King Jr., but you are just a showman, out for your own ends. Part of that was true. But I felt I was also helping people, those thousands of homeless boys and girls who were vulnerable to the North Korean state and the Chinese authorities. I am not Dr. King, I said to myself after a while. I’m not perfect, but I’m doing my best to tell the world these people exist, and are in pain.
Sometimes it’s difficult for me to tell my story in public. My suffering ended the day I came to the United States, but I know that there are millions of North Koreans living in pain at this very moment. There are boys just like me whose fathers are in the last stages of starvation, girls who are being sold off in China, and mothers on their way to prison camps they will never leave. The children among them are not castaways; they are deeply loved, as I was.
While I sleep on my comfortable bed, covered with a warm blanket, homeless boys and girls in North Korea are starving to death or sleeping under bridges in withering cold. They will spend tonight desperately hoping tomorrow will be better. But that can’t happen unless we all help make a place where these innocent people can live without terror or want.
I strongly believe that all North Koreans have the right to experience the life I have now. One day, I hope my countrymen will be able to taste freedom. This is what compels me to travel, to speak out and tell what I saw in places like Hoeryong. I can’t do this alone. Only together can we bring justice and freedom to North Koreans.
This is their right as human beings. And I hope to see the day when they enjoy the same justice and freedom that I do.
After giving a talk at the TED Global Conference in Scotland in June 2013, I traveled to London and Paris, capping off my first trip outside the United States. On my way home, I found myself in the Edinburgh airport. My flight to New York would leave the next morning, and instead of getting a hotel, I decided to sleep in the terminal. I’m not sure what compelled me to do this: a strange mood came over me after all that time talking about being homeless. A curious nostalgia, perhaps. I thought back to those nights I’d spent inside the big, warm steam engine abandoned next to the railroad tracks in Hoeryong. The Scottish terminal was far more luxurious—there was piped-in music and a food court—but there was something in those lonely nights I missed.
From the gray pleather seat I slept in, I could see the night sky through the enormous plate glass windows. The terminal began to empty out, and soon there was no one around except a team of cleaners and one or two travelers, stuck like me for the night. I felt a kind of pleasurable melancholy seep through my veins. My memories of North Korea were precious to me, and the stars and moon brought them closer than they’d been in many months.
I looked at the night sky and talked to Bong Sook. “I’ve just told our story to seven hundred people,” I said. “Everyone told me what a great speech I gave and what a hero I am. This isn’t true, of course. If anyone is the hero of this story, it’s you.”
I told Bong Sook about my plans to find her. I’d spoken with different people, and they’d told me there were Korean-Chinese brokers who specialized in locating North Koreans in the border provinces of China. We’d agreed this was the best way to approach the difficult mission of finding my sister.
Right now, I thought, we only share the stars. But I can look up at night and see that you are under the same sky. That will have to be enough until I find you.
I focused on one particular star. Why don’t I know their names? I must learn them. “I wonder what you are doing tonight, Bong Sook,” I said softly. “Are you warm and safe like me? It’s been so long since I waited for your return, dreaming like a baby brother of the delicious food you would surely bring. But now I just want to thank you for being my sister, for loving me and remembering me always. I will not forget you, as you never forgot me.” I said a few more words, about my apartment in Brooklyn and my everyday life. Then I drifted off.
I slept peacefully that night. In the morning, I boarded the flight to JFK, and the plane ascended slowly into the sky as the muffled roar of the engines shook my seat. The stars were gone now, replaced by a pale blue sky and long ribbons of clouds. Take everything from me, I thought, and I will still have those constellations. The hidden stars that draw me to those I love.
Acknowledgments
I AM SO THANKFUL for the opportunity to share my story. It’s a privilege but also a burden, because this isn’t just my story, but the story of millions of other people in North Korea today. Rudyard Kipling once said, “If history were taught in the form of stories, it would never be forgotten.” My hope in telling my story, our story, is that the lives of the North Korean people would not be forgotten. I owe a huge debt of gratitude to so many important people in my life who have helped me to make it this far and have been a part of shaping who I am today.
First and foremost, I would like to thank my mom and dad for bringing me into this world. Dad, you made so many sacrifices for our family, things I probably couldn’t have done. Mom, sometimes I felt so resentful. I wondered how differently things could have turned out if we had made different decisions. But I love you and am waiting to be together with you and Bong Sook again.
Adrian Hong, thank you for helping to bring me to the United States so that I could experience the true definition of freedom. You have remained a great mentor and friend through your continued support and care over the years. Angela Hong, thank you fo
r always being so thoughtful. To the Hong family: Living in your house during the summer of 2008 was one of the happiest times in my life. I owe a very special thanks to my foster mom Sharron Rose: You are the epitome of kindness and generosity. To Carolina Velez: You were my lifeline when I first came to America, helping me through my resettlement as my case manager. Hannah noona (Hannah Song): Thank you so much for being my sister, for always believing in me more than I believe in myself, and for loving me the same way that I imagine Bong Sook would have if she was with me now.
I would like especially to thank some of my generous supporters who have made it possible for me study and live in New York City: Terry and Gregor Hong, Bernard and Christine Moon, Dave Park, PJ Kim, Peter Kang and Seiwook Lee, Eliot and Jen Kang, Jensen and Juhee Ko, Cathy Danchik, Edie Weiner, and Julia Rhee.
Eddie hyung and Mr. D (Eddie Song and Damon Adams): although I may not express it often, you have both been incredible mentors to me and have helped me grow immensely both personally and professionally. Eddie, I am thankful that you always expected perfection from me. Your tough love and your belief in my potential always encouraged me and pushed me to work harder. Mr. D, thank you for showing me what it means to remain optimistic even during the most difficult times. I don’t think I’ve met anyone who is as tenacious as you.
Meghan Song and the Saulsbury family: Thank you for always welcoming me into your home and treating me like a part of your family. Mr. (David) Song: You remind me of my father when I listen to your wisdom and advice. It makes me wonder what it would be like to speak to him if he were alive now. Mrs. (Julie) Song: I am so blessed to have you in my life—you are always feeding me, worrying about my health, and you truly treat me like your own son.
To my LiNK noonas Jimin Oh, Jane Chung, Lori Kim, and Carrol Chang: You were there to welcome me when I first arrived in America and I will never forget how much you loved and cared for me. Thank you for always supporting me and cheering me on. Eunice noona (Eunice Lim): I can’t wait to tell Bong Sook one day how much you and Sam hyung took such good care of me, as if I were your own brother. You are always praying for me and reminding me of God’s love. Thank you for not letting me forget.
To my two best friends, Asein Ta and Ming Zheng: Thank you for standing by my side at times when I’m sure others would have left me. John hyung (John Park): I am inspired by your generosity and humility. The day we first met, you assured me that I could always count on you. Thank you for always being there for me as my brother, just as you promised. PJ Kim: From traveling with me to interviews to helping me with speeches, I am thankful for your constant support and wisdom. Justin Wheeler: You have been a great friend and brother to me, and I am humbled by your sacrifice and your work to inspire a generation of young people to care for my people. Sokeel Park: I never say it enough, but I really appreciate how hard you work and how much you love the North Korean people. Thank you for helping me whenever I need something, for making me laugh, and for always being there for me as my hyung.
To my special noonas in South Korea, Jamie Hong and Hailey Lee: I will never forget spending the summer of 2009 with you in California, or the first time I had the dong geu rang ddeng you made for me. Thank you for always caring about me and checking up on me. Jennifer Welsch and Matt Wood: I’ll never forget going to Yosemite and traveling to Westside Ministries, UIUC, and other events and conferences together. Jenn, you always were a great sister to me, and Matt, you were always so encouraging.
Elliot Lee: You have provided me with helpful guidance on things I wouldn’t have otherwise known. Thanks for traveling with me, helping me to go suit shopping, and teaching me many things. William Kim: Thank you for always picking up my calls when I needed you. You have provided me with advice, constructive feedback, and encouragement throughout the years. David Park: I am thankful for your unwavering support and for taking me to my first live European soccer game in Yankee Stadium—it was unforgettable! Ji Un Kim: Thanks for making sure I always had food to eat. Paul Suk Jae: The first time I ever visited New York, you picked me up from Chinatown and took me all around the city and spent several days with me. Thanks for your hospitality and for helping me prepare for an exam. Andy Kim: I’ll always appreciate how you would call me out of the blue to see if there was anything I needed. Daniel Pincus and La Wang: I am grateful for your friendship and for the many friends and influential people you have gone out of your way to introduce me to.
I want to thank all past, present, and future LiNK (Liberty in North Korea) interns, nomads, and staff who have dedicated their lives to the lives of the North Korean people. Thank you for believing in us. You inspire me with your determination and commitment to bring justice, peace, and liberty to North Korea. Please keep up your hard work—you are the hope for so many North Korean people who have lost their hope.
To Marianna Tu and Bryan Garcia at America Needs You: Thank you so much for your calls and emails, constantly checking up on me and helping me to stay strong. You always encourage me to fulfill my dreams, and because of that I truly believe one day I will.
To my friends who have been there for me throughout the years, thank you for continually praying for me and staying in touch: Andrew Lovely, Kenneth Hau, Hannah Ryu, June Park, and Stephanie Cho. I also want to acknowledge these friends who have brought me tremendous support at different times in my life and have always accepted me as I am: Robert Young, Sung Kook Oh, Danny Lee, Yeon Jeong Kim, Cameron Lee, Julie Han, John Kim, Scott Yang, Lyn Kim, Edward Cheng, Julie Lam, Morgan Porter, Hwang Bin Im, Jason Oh, Harim Lee, and Gabe Cruciani.
A huge thanks to everyone who made this book possible, including Terry Hong for the introduction, Scott Waxman for your ongoing encouragement and support, Bruce Nichols for your tireless help with all the editing, and Joan Cho for your help in proofreading and correcting Korean names and geographical locations.
To my coauthor, Stephan Talty: I’m not sure I could ever express quite how grateful I am to you. Because of you, my story and the stories of millions of other North Koreans will not be forgotten. Thank you for your friendship and your patience with me throughout this process, and for your commitment to helping me tell my story as thoroughly and accurately as possible. I hope, through your beautiful writing, that others may come to have a more compassionate perspective of the North Korean people.
For those I have forgotten or did not mention here, please forgive me and know that I am so thankful for every person who has helped me along the way. Without you, my story would not be possible.
And finally, to my sister, Bong Sook: Noona, it has been more than ten years since we separated and since I last saw you. I wish you were here with me now—you would be so surprised by how much I have grown up. I do so many things now that I couldn’t do before. I cook my own meals, I wash my own clothes, and I even iron my dress shirts myself. I can’t wait to do some of these things for you, just like you always did for me. Noona, you probably don’t know this, but I went to China to look for you. Sometimes I wonder, if I had escaped just a few days earlier, could I have found you? Would our lives have turned out differently and would we be together? Sung Ryul died two days before I made it to his house, and I felt that the whole world turned black. Why did it seem like I was always just a few days late? After I left North Korea, my journey was so difficult, but I met many good people along the way who helped me. What was your journey like, and were there good people to help you too? Since coming to America, I wanted to find a way I could honor Father, so I studied hard and did my best to try to figure out how we could prevent stories like ours from happening to other families in North Korea. I still have so much to learn, but I am determined to make my hope of a better future for our people into a reality. Noona, I wonder if we’ll ever be together again. Will we have a chance to make up for all the time we have lost? Sometimes I lose hope and want to give up, but I never have. I never will. I know we will find each other again, and I will work hard to make that day come as soon as possible. Please wait for me.
I love you.
About the Authors
JOSEPH KIM was born in North Korea in 1990. In 2007 he came to the United States, where he completed high school. He is currently a college student in New York City.
STEPHAN TALTY is the coauthor of several works of narrative nonfiction, including A Captain’s Duty, the inspiration for the film Captain Phillips.