Park Eun-hee was a featured speaker at the May 15, 2021 Asia Regional Forum organized by Freedom Speakers International and sponsored by UniKorea. Below is an excerpt of her remarks. ― Ed.
By Park Eun-hee
What does freedom mean to you? It's easy to ask that question, but extremely hard to answer if you think about it deeply.
While many people are born into freedom, it must be taken by North Korean defectors. Having to risk my life to get to freedom makes me think deeply about the value of freedom and about the values I live by in that freedom.
To explain how I grabbed my freedom, I will share two things with you that make me feel grateful.
The first thing is that my defection made me who I am today. Second, I was mainly raised by my grandparents, they helped prepare me to be ready to grab my freedom.
When I was five years old, my parents got divorced. My mother died after being in a mental hospital for 10 years, and my father moved on with a new family. I was moved back and forth between an orphanage and the homes of my dad and grandparents.
At that time, divorce was not common in North Korea, and such a family background made it difficult for the child. Children without parents were considered to be damaged and without manners, making it difficult for me to have a regular school life and childhood. I remember fighting with a classmate when I was in elementary school.
I don't remember why I fought with her, but I vividly remember what her mother said about me in front of many friends after class. She said, "Do not talk or play with Eun-hee because she is growing up without parents, so she is a naughty and rude girl." I burst into tears. I went home and told my grandparents about how painful it was to be judged based on being from a broken home.
As usual, my grandparents did not complain or give a direct answer. Instead, they asked me: "Why would she say such a thing? What can you do to solve this problem?" They always taught me to be a problem solver and think deeply about challenges and situations. That's why when I illegally watched South Korean media for the first time, I was ready to analyze the problem I was facing. My grandparents had prepared me for the moment.
One day I asked my grandmother. "Why can't I freely control my body? I want to live freely like people in the South Korean dramas, they can express themselves without being punished." I told her that I wanted to go to China to be free. My grandparents replied immediately, saying there was no hope in North Korea, I could go to China and live as a free person.
In their case, they said they were older, I was young, so I should enjoy and taste freedom. Thankfully, thanks to their support, I made my dream come true, coming to South Korea after escaping through Laos, China, and Thailand.
According to Hana Foundation statistics, about 34,000 North Koreans have escaped to South Korea since North Korea suffered a famine in the mid-1990s. Many defectors use brokers to stay in touch with their families and send money in a complex, expensive and risky process.
In 2015, three years after I escaped, I found a broker who could help me contact my grandmother. It required a smuggled mobile phone to call the South from mountains near the border with China. That could result in better reception while avoiding being detected by officials. Brokers in North Korea and China have long taken commissions of 30%, and that happened to me when I sent her $2,000 and had a phone call with her. It was at 4 a.m., before I went to work. I did not remember what we talked about. I do remember how much I cried over the phone for 3 hours and struggled with nightmares for almost 6 months after I talked with her.
How can I describe the pain of hearing her voice and not being able to hold her in my arms again? I am not the only one to feel such pain, to have such nightmares. It's the pain felt by many North Korean refugees living in China, South Korea, the United States, and Europe about their family members still in North Korea.
For people born in democratic countries with freedom of movement, freedom of choice and freedom of press, it's probably unthinkable to be unable to call and see family members when they want to meet. However, for us, calling even once a year is not practical and seeing them is even more unimaginable. That's why I say I took my freedom. Considering what freedom means to me makes me think deeply, reminds me why I am sensitive to attacks on my personal freedom even as I live in a democracy, and makes me wish I could share this freedom with North Koreans.
Second, freedom allows me to define my own values, which I will discuss in the second half of this speech. It will mainly be about the dilemma I faced over being a regular panelist on a popular TV show.
Park's remarks were edited by Casey Lartigue, editor of Voices from the North.
By Park Eun-hee
 |
| Park Eun-hee / Courtesy of Voices from the North |
While many people are born into freedom, it must be taken by North Korean defectors. Having to risk my life to get to freedom makes me think deeply about the value of freedom and about the values I live by in that freedom.
To explain how I grabbed my freedom, I will share two things with you that make me feel grateful.
The first thing is that my defection made me who I am today. Second, I was mainly raised by my grandparents, they helped prepare me to be ready to grab my freedom.
When I was five years old, my parents got divorced. My mother died after being in a mental hospital for 10 years, and my father moved on with a new family. I was moved back and forth between an orphanage and the homes of my dad and grandparents.
At that time, divorce was not common in North Korea, and such a family background made it difficult for the child. Children without parents were considered to be damaged and without manners, making it difficult for me to have a regular school life and childhood. I remember fighting with a classmate when I was in elementary school.
I don't remember why I fought with her, but I vividly remember what her mother said about me in front of many friends after class. She said, "Do not talk or play with Eun-hee because she is growing up without parents, so she is a naughty and rude girl." I burst into tears. I went home and told my grandparents about how painful it was to be judged based on being from a broken home.
As usual, my grandparents did not complain or give a direct answer. Instead, they asked me: "Why would she say such a thing? What can you do to solve this problem?" They always taught me to be a problem solver and think deeply about challenges and situations. That's why when I illegally watched South Korean media for the first time, I was ready to analyze the problem I was facing. My grandparents had prepared me for the moment.
One day I asked my grandmother. "Why can't I freely control my body? I want to live freely like people in the South Korean dramas, they can express themselves without being punished." I told her that I wanted to go to China to be free. My grandparents replied immediately, saying there was no hope in North Korea, I could go to China and live as a free person.
In their case, they said they were older, I was young, so I should enjoy and taste freedom. Thankfully, thanks to their support, I made my dream come true, coming to South Korea after escaping through Laos, China, and Thailand.
According to Hana Foundation statistics, about 34,000 North Koreans have escaped to South Korea since North Korea suffered a famine in the mid-1990s. Many defectors use brokers to stay in touch with their families and send money in a complex, expensive and risky process.
In 2015, three years after I escaped, I found a broker who could help me contact my grandmother. It required a smuggled mobile phone to call the South from mountains near the border with China. That could result in better reception while avoiding being detected by officials. Brokers in North Korea and China have long taken commissions of 30%, and that happened to me when I sent her $2,000 and had a phone call with her. It was at 4 a.m., before I went to work. I did not remember what we talked about. I do remember how much I cried over the phone for 3 hours and struggled with nightmares for almost 6 months after I talked with her.
How can I describe the pain of hearing her voice and not being able to hold her in my arms again? I am not the only one to feel such pain, to have such nightmares. It's the pain felt by many North Korean refugees living in China, South Korea, the United States, and Europe about their family members still in North Korea.
For people born in democratic countries with freedom of movement, freedom of choice and freedom of press, it's probably unthinkable to be unable to call and see family members when they want to meet. However, for us, calling even once a year is not practical and seeing them is even more unimaginable. That's why I say I took my freedom. Considering what freedom means to me makes me think deeply, reminds me why I am sensitive to attacks on my personal freedom even as I live in a democracy, and makes me wish I could share this freedom with North Koreans.
Second, freedom allows me to define my own values, which I will discuss in the second half of this speech. It will mainly be about the dilemma I faced over being a regular panelist on a popular TV show.
Park's remarks were edited by Casey Lartigue, editor of Voices from the North.
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