The day I chose to escape North Korea

Han Song-mi

Feb. 17, 2011. The day everything changed. The day I left behind the only life I had ever known. The day I finally chose to take control of my fate.

I never imagined I would have the courage to leave North Korea. After years of hesitation, of rejecting brokers my mother had sent to the countryside of North Korea to try to rescue me, of staying because I was too afraid of the unknown, I suddenly left.

My mother had already escaped to China years earlier. She had tried to rescue me three times. Three times, I had a chance to leave. Three times, I said no.

I had spent years waiting for her to come back for me. I wanted to believe that one day, she would return, and we would be together again. But after six years, I was still waiting.

I didn’t know what kind of life I could have outside of North Korea. And I was worried if my aunt and uncle kicked me out I would be homeless again, but that time, it would be without Mom.

Why did I suddenly decide to escape from North Korea?

That day, I overheard my aunt and uncle talking. The people who had raised me after my mother escaped weren’t concerned about my future. They weren’t worried about what would happen to me. They were discussing who would take care of their house after I got married.

I wasn’t their niece. I wasn’t family. I was a worker. A burden. A tool to be used.

I had always been waiting — waiting for my mother to rescue me, waiting for my life to change. But nothing was going to change unless I changed it. I finally understood — I didn’t have a future in North Korea. For the first time, I felt something stronger than fear. I felt determination.

I told myself, If I stay here, nothing will change. Let’s just try. If I die, then at least I would have tried.

That afternoon, when my aunt and uncle were sleeping after working hard the previous day on the dictator’s birthday, I quietly slipped out of the house.

I had the broker’s number memorized. I stepped inside the post office, my hands shaking as I picked up the phone. It felt like everyone in the room could hear my heartbeat.

The moment he answered, I whispered, “Hi, this is Songmi. I want to go there.”

He hesitated. “Are you sure?”

I swallowed hard. There was no turning back now. “Please, come right now.”

I was careful with my words, knowing that there were spies everywhere in North Korea. Any suspicion, even a slight misstep, could mean the end.

He told me to meet him at the train station in a few hours. I hung up the phone and walked out like nothing had happened.

I was still in North Korea. I was still just 17 years old, but I had started the process of escaping.

I walked around Shinsang-gu train station, trying not to be noticed. I kept my head down, forcing myself to stay calm, but inside, my thoughts were racing. “Is this the right thing to do? What if I get caught? What would happen in China?” The fear was suffocating, but I forced myself to keep moving. Finally, I told myself, “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just do it.”

Then, I heard the sound of an approaching motorbike. I looked up, and there he was. The broker. I took one last deep breath and stepped forward.

It has been years since that day. I made it. I survived. I built a new life. But I will never forget how I felt that day.

I remember the fear and the uncertainty. I remember walking out of my aunt’s house, knowing I would never see it again. I remember sitting at that train station, wondering if this was the last day of my life.

For some North Koreans, leaving North Korea is about choosing to escape a dictatorship. For others, it’s choosing to leave behind a toxic environment, a painful past, or a life that no longer serves them.

The first step is always the hardest. It’s the one where you tell yourself, I deserve more than this.

That’s what I did on Feb. 17, 2011.

And I have never looked back.

Han Song-mi is a North Korean Refugee Author Fellow with Freedom Speakers International (FSI) and co-author with Casey Lartigue Jr. of her memoir, “Greenlight to Freedom: A North Korean Daughter’s Search for Her Mother and Herself.”