By Casey Lartigue Jr.
A great thing about the internet is the many great quotes of wisdom. Sometimes, however, that wisdom can come into conflict.
For example, I have long loved the comment from former South African leader Nelson Mandela: "I never lose. I either win or learn." Every opportunity, challenge or situation can be a chance to learn and improve.
I also love the advice (from various sources) on putting together a "failure resume" of non-successes. Life is not only about success, but also about failure which can give people perspective and teach even more lessons than success does.
But wait? How can I have a "failure resume" if I win and never lose?
Some successes are easy to spot. Last month, my organization clearly won when six North Korean refugees in FSI's North Korean Refugee Keynote Speakers Network gave speeches to tourists visiting South Korea. We also won earlier this year when, working with volunteers, we published two books by North Korean refugees. And we will win later this month when we hold our 16th English speech contest.
Those are clear success stories. But was the following a failure? A North Korean visited our office two weeks ago to apply to join our organization. She had known about us for a few years, but I didn't meet her until a few months ago when she energetically introduced herself at an event.
The tough lady with charisma cried in our office as she told us secrets she said she had hidden for 17 years. Some North Korea watchers might say her story is "out-of-date," but the pain is fresh in her mind and heart.
After thinking about it for more than a week, she decided it was too painful to talk publicly about her life in North Korea and China. It may count as a failure because a dynamic woman decided not to tell her story, but we still felt like winners. Our humble organization has enough credibility with North Korean refugees that even a woman who hasn't told her South Korean family her full story and has remained silent for almost two decades confided in us as her possible book publisher.
As with all North Korean refugees who come to us, we were transparent with her about the pros and cons of going public. North Korean refugees who make it to the stage or the publication process must prepare themselves psychologically for a range of critics (North Korea sympathizers, North Korea watchers, researchers, psychopaths, jealous and disgruntled people) questioning their motives and stories.
Then there are the threats from North Korea. Several North Korean refugees participating in our organization have dropped out because of attacks and threats. North Korean refugee YouTuber Cherie Yang was silent for three years (at her mother's request) after her face was shown on North Korean TV.
A North Korean refugee canceled her plans to speak at an international conference after family members let her know they were getting threatened by North Korean agents.
Another North Korean refugee abruptly deleted her SNS accounts and ended her TV career after she was shown in a North Korea propaganda video.
Some North Korean refugees are apologetic about withdrawing, but the "failure" meetings are upbeat and even celebratory. We are happy when North Korean refugees reach their goals of becoming public speakers or authors, but when those are no longer goals we find other ways to collaborate.
No matter how many times it happens, however, we still aren't prepared for the tears. When I worked with Songmi Han on her memoir "Greenlight to Freedom," she surprised me when she cried a few times. She had been silent for a decade and only began to open up after going through psychological counseling. When her tears began falling, I had second thoughts.
Her response to my suggestion that we stop the project? "Mr. Casey, of course, we are going to finish this book! This is good for me. I have the chance to think and talk about things I had been blocking out of my mind." Writing the book turned out to be an extended form of therapy for her to get over demons still troubling her.
Last month, none of the North Korean refugee speakers and authors who gave speeches to tour groups cried. One of the speakers wrote on his social media: "It's always joyful to share my story." In our debriefing sessions, another speaker told us she is "floating in the clouds" whenever she gives a speech in English and another said she hasn't stopped stop smiling since giving her first public speech earlier this year. There were tears, but not from the speakers. Rather, it was from some of the tourists listening.
Casey Lartigue Jr. is co-author along with Song-mi Han of the book, "Greenlight to Freedom," and co-founder along with Eun-koo Lee of Freedom Speakers International (FSI). He teaches public speaking and debate at the Seoul University of Foreign Studies. He can be reached at CJL@alumni.harvard.edu.
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For example, I have long loved the comment from former South African leader Nelson Mandela: "I never lose. I either win or learn." Every opportunity, challenge or situation can be a chance to learn and improve.
I also love the advice (from various sources) on putting together a "failure resume" of non-successes. Life is not only about success, but also about failure which can give people perspective and teach even more lessons than success does.
But wait? How can I have a "failure resume" if I win and never lose?
Some successes are easy to spot. Last month, my organization clearly won when six North Korean refugees in FSI's North Korean Refugee Keynote Speakers Network gave speeches to tourists visiting South Korea. We also won earlier this year when, working with volunteers, we published two books by North Korean refugees. And we will win later this month when we hold our 16th English speech contest.
Those are clear success stories. But was the following a failure? A North Korean visited our office two weeks ago to apply to join our organization. She had known about us for a few years, but I didn't meet her until a few months ago when she energetically introduced herself at an event.
The tough lady with charisma cried in our office as she told us secrets she said she had hidden for 17 years. Some North Korea watchers might say her story is "out-of-date," but the pain is fresh in her mind and heart.
After thinking about it for more than a week, she decided it was too painful to talk publicly about her life in North Korea and China. It may count as a failure because a dynamic woman decided not to tell her story, but we still felt like winners. Our humble organization has enough credibility with North Korean refugees that even a woman who hasn't told her South Korean family her full story and has remained silent for almost two decades confided in us as her possible book publisher.
As with all North Korean refugees who come to us, we were transparent with her about the pros and cons of going public. North Korean refugees who make it to the stage or the publication process must prepare themselves psychologically for a range of critics (North Korea sympathizers, North Korea watchers, researchers, psychopaths, jealous and disgruntled people) questioning their motives and stories.
Then there are the threats from North Korea. Several North Korean refugees participating in our organization have dropped out because of attacks and threats. North Korean refugee YouTuber Cherie Yang was silent for three years (at her mother's request) after her face was shown on North Korean TV.
A North Korean refugee canceled her plans to speak at an international conference after family members let her know they were getting threatened by North Korean agents.
Another North Korean refugee abruptly deleted her SNS accounts and ended her TV career after she was shown in a North Korea propaganda video.
Some North Korean refugees are apologetic about withdrawing, but the "failure" meetings are upbeat and even celebratory. We are happy when North Korean refugees reach their goals of becoming public speakers or authors, but when those are no longer goals we find other ways to collaborate.
No matter how many times it happens, however, we still aren't prepared for the tears. When I worked with Songmi Han on her memoir "Greenlight to Freedom," she surprised me when she cried a few times. She had been silent for a decade and only began to open up after going through psychological counseling. When her tears began falling, I had second thoughts.
Her response to my suggestion that we stop the project? "Mr. Casey, of course, we are going to finish this book! This is good for me. I have the chance to think and talk about things I had been blocking out of my mind." Writing the book turned out to be an extended form of therapy for her to get over demons still troubling her.
Last month, none of the North Korean refugee speakers and authors who gave speeches to tour groups cried. One of the speakers wrote on his social media: "It's always joyful to share my story." In our debriefing sessions, another speaker told us she is "floating in the clouds" whenever she gives a speech in English and another said she hasn't stopped stop smiling since giving her first public speech earlier this year. There were tears, but not from the speakers. Rather, it was from some of the tourists listening.
Casey Lartigue Jr. is co-author along with Song-mi Han of the book, "Greenlight to Freedom," and co-founder along with Eun-koo Lee of Freedom Speakers International (FSI). He teaches public speaking and debate at the Seoul University of Foreign Studies. He can be reached at CJL@alumni.harvard.edu.
