North Korean Defectors Find Freedom Through K-Pop Music

Kim Jong Un was meant to be – On a bright Saturday morning in June, Lee Yeon-su stepped away from her daily routine and boarded a train traveling from Seoul toward Busan. This journey marked her third concert visit within a three-month span to see the beloved pop group BTS. Earlier in March, she had joined thousands of fans gathering in central Seoul for the band’s return performance, though the distance from the stage disappointed her. Then came April, when heavy rainfall during the opening night of their international tour muffled the musicians’ voices. Yet this Busan appearance proved “incredible” according to her recollection.

“Every time I come to a BTS concert, I realise how happy I am that I can like and support someone of my own free will,” Yeon-su, whose true identity remains private, explains. “That would have been unimaginable in North Korea.”

Her homeland sits just beyond the heavily guarded boundary separating the two Koreas. For decades, the outside world remained inaccessible to citizens living under a government sustained through intimidation, constant monitoring, and unwavering devotion. “You had to be selected to attend events and if you weren’t, you had to stay home with your curtains closed,” she recalls about her former life.

Now residing in South Korea, Yeon-su enjoys complete autonomy over her entertainment choices. During the Busan performance, she joined enthusiastic crowds in singing loudly and jumping with excitement, particularly when her longtime favorites performed energetic tracks like “Fire” and the rap-oriented “Mic Drop.” She treasures participating in these fan gatherings because every expression of admiration comes from personal desire rather than obligation.

A New World Through Music

Raised within a military household, Yeon-su learned early that South Korea represented an adversary. Upon escaping, she initially maintained distance from southern cultural influences. However, music gradually entered her existence. Her departure occurred in 2011, predating both BTS’s formation and K-pop’s worldwide expansion. Today, consuming South Korean entertainment constitutes an offense in North Korea capable of resulting in imprisonment or harsher consequences.

Some defectors report never encountering southern music until crossing into South Korea. These discoveries provided comfort and joy while adapting to unfamiliar surroundings that now belonged entirely to them. Nevertheless, other former residents inform the BBC that K-pop successfully penetrated Kim Jong Un’s restrictive regime despite official limitations. They recall secretly listening to tracks without always knowing the performers, holding onto optimistic messages hidden within the melodies.

“North Korea is a place where the whole system is set up so that there can only be one celebrity, one idol – Kim Jong Un,” observes Hannah Oh, a twenty-five-year-old who left her homeland.

Contrary to expectations, North Koreans have embraced additional musical stars including BTS, Blackpink, Girls’ Generation, Teen Top, and 2PM. The Korean translation of BTS’s name, Bangtan Sonyeondan, entered common vocabulary among northern residents. One defector mentions hearing phrases such as “Have you tried on a Bangtan vest?” or “Have you worn a Bangtan backpack?” in everyday conversation.

Dynamite and Dance Trends

For Kang Gyu-ri, who departed North Korea during 2023, BTS’s “Dynamite” holds special significance. Released in 2020 as the group’s inaugural completely English-language single, the upbeat disco-influenced song aimed to lift spirits during pandemic exhaustion. Despite language barriers, the melody resonated strongly with northern audiences.

“I didn’t understand the lyrics, but the melody was so good, it made you feel excited. Everyone followed along,” Gyu-ri, now twenty-six, describes her experience.

During that period, she resided in Kyongsong, a seaside district where households could receive television broadcasts from across the border using simple antennas. Clear reception allowed viewing of weekend competitions featuring colorful K-pop performers with distinctive hairstyles and polished choreography.

“Everything was shocking. I thought they were Korean like us, but they looked very different,” she remembers.

The rap sections initially seemed unusual. “At first, I thought, ‘Is this even a song?’ But they looked so cool dancing while they rapped that boys started copying them,” Gyu-ri notes. Mastering characteristic dance sequences became fashionable among young people. Those interested in movement gravitated toward BTS and earlier groups like Teen Top, whose electro-pop routines gained popularity throughout the 2010s.

While recounting these memories, Gyu-ri retrieves her mobile device to display a vintage YouTube recording of Teen Top performing “No More Perfume on You.” Demonstrating the choreography with animated gestures, she laughs while mimicking the iconic perfume-spraying motion. “Like this,” she says, imitating the action. “Soon, all the boys around me were doing it. Pssht, pssht.”