What I learned about freedom after escaping North Korea

"North Korea is unimaginable," says human rights activist Yeonmi Park, who escaped the country at the age of 10. Sharing the harrowing story of her childhood, she reflects on the fragility of freedom -- and shows how change can be achieved even in the world's darkest places.

I was born in 1993
in the northern part of North Korea,

in a town called Hyesan,

which is on the border with China.

I had loving parents

and one older sister.

Before I was even 10 years old,

my father was sent to a labor camp

for engaging in illegal trading.

Now, by "illegal trading" --

he was selling clogs, sugar,
rice and later copper

to feed us.

In 2007, my sister and I
decided to escape.

She was 16 years old,

and I was 13 years old.

I need you to understand
what the word "escape" means

in the context of North Korea.

We were all starving,

and hunger means death in North Korea.

So it was the only option for us.

I didn't even understand
the concept of escape,

but I could see the lights
from China at night,

and I wondered if I go where the light is,

I might be able to find a bowl of rice.

It's not like we had a grand plan or maps.

We did not know anything
about what was going to happen.

Imagine your apartment
building caught fire.

I mean, what would you do?

Would you stay there to be burned,

or would you jump off out of the window

and see what happens?

That's what we did.

We jumped out of the house

instead of the fire.

North Korea is unimaginable.

It's very hard for me

when people ask me
what it feels like to live there.

To be honest,

I tell you:

you can't even imagine it.

The words in any language can't describe,

because it's a totally different planet,

as you cannot imagine
your life on Mars right now.

For example, the word "love"
has only one meaning:

love for the Dear Leader.

There's no concept
of romantic love in North Korea.

And if you don't know the words,

that means you don't
understand the concept,

and therefore, you don't even realize
that concept is even a possibility.

Let me give you another example.

Growing up in North Korea,

we truly believed that our Dear Leader
is an almighty god

who can even read my thoughts.

I was even afraid to think in North Korea.

We are told that he's starving for us,

and he's working tirelessly for us,

and my heart just broke for him.

When I escaped to South Korea,

people told me that
he was actually a dictator,

he had cars,

many, many resorts,

and he had an ultraluxurious life.

And then I remember
looking at a picture of him,

realizing for the first time

that he is the largest guy in the picture.

(Laughter)

And it hit me.

Finally, I realized he wasn't starving.

But I was never able to see that before,

until someone told me that he was fat.

(Laughter)

Really, someone had to teach me
that he was fat.

If you have never practiced
critical thinking,

then you simply see
what you're told to see.

The biggest question also people ask me

is: "Why is there no revolution
inside North Korea?

Are we dumb?

Why is there no revolution
for 70 years of this oppression?"

And I say:

If you don't know you're a slave,

if you don't know
you're isolated or oppressed,

how do you fight to be free?

I mean, if you know you're isolated,

that means you are not isolated.

Not knowing is the true
definition of isolation,

and that's why I never knew

I was isolated when I was in North Korea.

I literally thought I was
in the center of the universe.

So here is my idea worth spreading:

a lot of people think

humans inherently know
what is right and wrong,

the difference between
justice and injustice,

what we deserve and we don't deserve.

I tell them: BS.

(Laughter)

(Applause)

Everything,

everything must be taught,

including compassion.

If I see someone dying
on the street right now,

I will do anything to save that person.

But when I was in North Korea,

I saw people dying
and dead on the streets.

I felt nothing.

Not because I'm a psychopath,

but because I never learned
the concept of compassion.

Only, I felt compassion,
empathy and sympathy in my heart

after I learned the word
"compassion" and the concept,

and I feel them now.

Now I live in the United States
as a free person.

(Applause)

Thank you.

(Applause)

And recently,

the leader of the free country,
our President Trump,

met with my former god.

And he decided human rights
is not important enough

to include in his agendas,

and he did not talk about it.

And it scares me.

We live in a world right now

where a dictator can be praised
for executing his uncle,

for killing his half brother,

killing thousands of North Koreans.

And that was worthy of praise.

And also it made me think:

perhaps we all need to be taught
something new about freedom now.

Freedom is fragile.

I don't want to alarm you, but it is.

It only took three generations

to make North Korea into
George Orwell's "1984."

It took only three generations.

If we don't fight for human rights

for the people who are oppressed
right now who don't have a voice,

as free people here,

who will fight for us
when we are not free?

Machines? Animals? I don't know.

I think it's wonderful
that we care about climate change,

animal rights, gender equality,

all of these things.

The fact that we care
about animals' rights,

that means that's
how beautiful our heart is,

that we care about someone
who cannot speak for themselves.

And North Koreans right now
cannot speak for themselves.

They don't have internet
in the 21st century.

We don't have electricity,

and it is the darkest place
on earth right now.

Now I want to say something
to my fellow North Koreans

who are living in that darkness.

They might not believe this,

but I want to tell them
that an alternative life is possible.

Be free.

From my experience,

literally anything is possible.

I was bought,

I was sold as a slave.

But now I'm here,

and that is why I believe in miracles.

The one thing that I learned from history

is that nothing is forever in this world.

And that is why we have
every reason to be hopeful.

Thank you.

(Applause)