North Korean Room
Korean American Divided Families
After World War II, the Korean Peninsula was divided into North and South, and the Korean War solidified this division. Millions of Koreans were separated from their families, with many fleeing North to South, and later relocating to countries like the U.S. During the war and in subsequent decades, some American soldiers and civilians connected with North Korean families, creating a unique demographic that spans these divided nations.
For these families, the political divide is not just a geopolitical issue but a deeply personal reality, marked by decades of lost contact and uncertainty about loved ones' fates. American citizens of Korean descent have often struggled to reconnect with relatives in North Korea due to strict communication restrictions imposed by the North Korean regime.
This challenge is even more complicated for those with mixed American-North Korean heritage. Some Americans married North Koreans during or after the war, leading to descendants caught between two countries with no formal diplomatic relations and significant mutual distrust.
While inter-Korean talks have occasionally touched on the issue of divided families, those involving American relatives are often excluded due to strained U.S.-North Korean relations. Despite some rare reunions facilitated by humanitarian organizations or informal networks, these efforts are often risky and clandestine. For many American-North Korean families, time is running out as the older generation ages, but there remains hope through advocacy for family reunification and a potential easing of tensions on the Korean Peninsula.
The plight of these divided families underscores the human toll of geopolitical conflicts and serves as a poignant reminder of shared histories that transcend borders. The resolution of their painful separation remains an ongoing struggle, deeply intertwined with international politics.
Chahee Stanfield was born in North Korea and lived there during her early years. After the Korean War, like many Koreans, her family was separated. She later managed to move to the United States, but her family’s separation left a lasting impact on her life. Her father was reportedly left behind in North Korea, and she has spent much of her life searching for ways to reconnect with him and other family members.
As the executive director of the National Coalition for the Divided Families (NCDF), Chahee has become a vocal advocate for Korean-Americans seeking to reconnect with their North Korean relatives. She has worked relentlessly to raise awareness of the struggles faced by these separated families and to promote diplomatic solutions that could facilitate reunions. Under her leadership, the NCDF has collaborated with humanitarian organizations and lobbied the U.S. government and international bodies to address this pressing issue.
Despite the absence of formal diplomatic relations between the U.S. and North Korea, which severely limits information exchange and travel, Chahee has remained steadfast in her mission. Her advocacy highlights the emotional toll of decades-long separations and emphasizes the urgent need for humanitarian attention to the plight of divided families. Her story is a testament to the resilience of those who tirelessly seek to reunite with their loved ones across formidable political barriers.
The letter from my younger brother in North Korea:
How have you been? It has been 45 years since you left home, and I can’t imagine how hard your life must have been for all these turbulent years. We are sending our greetings to your wife and children.
We received your letter on May 14, and we are so happy. But big brother, what took you so long to let us know about you? People who left home in 1950 visited their home to see their family members. We thought you had passed away. Do you know how long our parents waited for you? On their death beds, they told me that it was too late for them to see you again, but I must find you in my lifetime. Mother had asked me to engrave your name above hers on her tombstone, and I did so when she passed away even though I didn’t know whether you were still alive or not. There was not a moment our parents didn’t think of you. They waited and waited for you.
When I received your letter on February 20, I went to Mother’s grave and told her the news she had waited so long for but never received. Meanwhile, our elder sister went to Father’s grave on Hansik Day and told him about your news. We are hoping that this will free them from their lifetime of suffering and waiting for you and that they can rest in peace now."
I am sending you my deepest bow and respect from the other side of the earth. When I heard you were alive, I cried. A swirl of emotion, tears, and fast heartbeats overcame me, and it is hard even now to calm down to write this letter.
They say time flies, and 10 years is long enough to reshape a river and a mountain. But for the last 46 years, I didn’t know whether you were alive or not. The tragic boat carrying the fat of my family was swept away from me by gigantic muddy waves, and I was left all alone on a foreign soil, which is my home now. It happened a long time ago, but you didn’t forget about me. There are no words to describe how much I am moved and how grateful I am.
I have so many sweet memories about you. When I was small and got into all kinds of mischief, you never hit me. You always took care of me with smiles and love. When you were attending Tong Kwang High School in Bong Chun (Manchuria), it was so exciting to receive your telegram saying that the school was over, and you were coming home for a vacation. I remember going to the Don Hwa train station with my other brothers and Sister Kooya, who was holding my hands. You always brought me a gift. That baby brother of yours, Oong Hee, is now 56 years old. *Some paragraphs are omitted from the translation.
Sun Hyup (your son) said that you had gone to Jang Back Hyun through Beijing and through
Don Hwa to look for Father. I can picture you traveling to the mountain village looking for your own blood. That’s you I remember. *Some paragraphs are skipped in the translation.
I was merely 4 or 5 years old when our home land was tormented and brutalized by Japanese colonialzation, and many people came to Manhuria to survive and wondered around without place to belong to. But there was the revolutionist and guerrilla fighter Kim Il Sung to lead them and fight against Japanese troops, and there were Father Lee Sang Moon and mother at Dapuchahu, Don Hwa in Jin Lin Province to help the Great leader. Because of that we have been living a good life here.
In 1945 shortly after you left (Manchuria), the boarder (between China and North Korea) was closed and we became trapped in Manchuria. And Father’s deep worrisome began. He didn’t know whether you had enough food to eat, and etc.To my dearest big brother (Won Hee Lee),
I am sending you my deepest bow and respect from the other side of the earth. When I heard you were alive, I cried. A swirl of emotion, tears, and fast heartbeats overcame me, and it is hard even now to calm down to write this letter.
They say time flies, and 10 years is long enough to reshape a river and a mountain. But for the last 46 years, I didn’t know whether you were alive or not. The tragic boat carrying the fat of my family was swept away from me by gigantic muddy waves, and I was left all alone on a foreign soil, which is my home now. It happened a long time ago, but you didn’t forget about me. There are no words to describe how much I am moved and how grateful I am.
I have so many sweet memories about you. When I was small and got into all kinds of mischief, you never hit me. You always took care of me with smiles and love. When you were attending Tong Kwang High School in Bong Chun (Manchuria), it was so exciting to receive your telegram saying that the school was over, and you were coming home for a vacation. I remember going to the Don Hwa train station with my other brothers and Sister Kooya, who was holding my hands. You always brought me a gift. That baby brother of yours, Oong Hee, is now 56 years old. *Some paragraphs are omitted from the translation.
Sun Hyup (your son) said that you had gone to Jang Back Hyun through Beijing and through
Don Hwa to look for Father. I can picture you traveling to the mountain village looking for your own blood. That’s you I remember. *Some paragraphs are skipped in the translation.
I was merely 4 or 5 years old when our home land was tormented and brutalized by Japanese colonialzation, and many people came to Manhuria to survive and wondered around without place to belong to. But there was the revolutionist and guerrilla fighter Kim Il Sung to lead them and fight against Japanese troops, and there were Father Lee Sang Moon and mother at Dapuchahu, Don Hwa in Jin Lin Province to help the Great leader. Because of that we have been living a good life here.
In 1945 shortly after you left (Manchuria), the boarder (between China and North Korea) was closed and we became trapped in Manchuria. And Father’s deep worrisome began. He didn’t know whether you had enough food to eat, and etc."
Cha’s academic career took an extraordinary turn when he was invited by North Korea to give a lecture. This opportunity allowed him to revisit his hometown, Gangdeok, and reconnect with relatives he had not seen in decades. During his visit, he experienced a deeply emotional reunion, marked by a heartfelt meal prepared by his family at an unusual hour, showcasing their enduring bond despite the years and distance.
Despite the joy of this reunion, Cha faced ongoing challenges in maintaining contact with his North Korean relatives. He sent financial aid over the years, but the delivery and reception of these funds were often uncertain, hindered by potential governmental interference. Communication with his relatives eventually dwindled, leaving Cha unsure of their well-being.
Now in his 80s, Cha remains passionate about his family’s history and the broader issues of inter-Korean relations. He continues to teach his children about their North Korean heritage and holds onto the hope of a future reunion with his relatives. His story is a poignant reminder of the personal costs of geopolitical divides and the enduring hope for familial connections across borders.