A View from the Other Side

I never imagined as a defector from North Korea that I would
be able to go watch a soccer match in the South with players from my home
country. But it wasn’t a dream. I was at the first group match for North
Korea’s women’s team playing against Vietnam for the Incheon Asian Games on
Tuesday.

 

I have to admit, I wasn’t sure who I should be rooting for.
I wasn’t sure if cheering for the North Korean team would get me in trouble
with the National Security Law [a controversial South Korean law banning activities
deemed communist or ‘anti-state’] but it’s not like it made any sense to cheer
for the Vietnamese players.

 

These concerns only lasted momentarily though. From the
bleachers came cheers for North Korea: “Go North Korea!,” “Good job number 11,”
“Keep it up number 9,” the crowds cheered. All the anxiety washed away, and I
joined in on cheering for the North at the top of my lungs.

 

The woman sitting next to seemed to be in her 30s, and was
with her three, or maybe four-year-old son. They followed every single move the
North Korean players made, at times screaming with excitement, and at others,
groaning with disappointment. It made me actually want to say, “Thank you for
cheering for these players.”

 

Back in October 1990, when the South and North Korean national
teams held a “unification soccer match” in Pyongyang, would it have been like
this? All that the residents of Pyongyang could do was cheer for the North
Korean players in the face of extreme scrutiny and monitoring. If the South was
playing against Vietnam in that same stadium in Pyongyang, would the people
there have been able to root for the South? It’s an unfathomable scene.

 

The North drove the game with its relentless offense. Just
in the first half, Kim Yun Mi put in two goals, taking the lead 4:0. In the
second half, the North scored again, bringing the final score to 5:0 for an
easy win. The team boasted strong offense and defense skills with tight overall
coordination, putting on full display its potential as a gold medal candidate.

 

North Korean players were in general a head taller than
their Vietnamese counterparts. The players were young but had obviously hit
puberty due to their noticeable physical developments. I could tell conditions
were much better compared to when I lived there by the state of their growth,
and in some ways, it provided me with a sense of relief.

In terms of appearance though, unlike the Vietnamese players
who all had different hairstyles, everyone on the North Korean team sported the
same short hair typical of female athletes in the North. The thought that it
was probably a unilateral decision handed down by the Party left me slightly
disturbed.

Not only that, although their five goals did come with some
celebration, shouting with joy and excitement did not play a part in it. I had
hoped for something grand, but all I saw were trained, routine smiles.
Although, I do recognize my bias could be playing into this perception.

 

North Korean players face the misfortune of having to pass
over all the credit to Kim Jong Eun, even if they score. If they lose, they
could be criticized for not having been loyal enough to the leader. This
explains why their smiles are not without a trace of hidden anxiety.

 

I watched the game from behind the North Korean bench.
Whenever the players were swapped out, I had to fight the urge of running up to
them and giving them a hug. I wanted to tell them, “Don’t go [back to North
Korea]. If you stay here, you can play soccer in a good environment and have a
real career.”

 

You might think I’m single-minded, but I can’t help it.
These players are from my home, North Korea, and they’re like my sisters, or
children. I couldn’t help feeling this way as I sat  through the match.

 

I send a big round of applause to the North Korean team for
nabbing their first victory with no one injured. I’d like to tell them, “I’m
proud of you, my sisters. I hope you win and return home with a gold medal.”