Daria Kadkina | DPRK International Solidarity Group (Russia)
Dear friends, colleagues, sisters,
Our organization began its work in 2017, and I, like many of you, had just turned twenty. My heart burned with the ideal of social justice, equality, and a special sisterhood capable of changing the world. We gathered, read the works of the Korean leaders, studied the Juche philosophy, and learned from our Korean comrades about steadfastness, loyalty to ideals, and self-sacrifice. But it was always with a special reverence that we spoke of women. Of the women of Korea. And above all—of the mother-revolutionary, the national heroine, Comrade Kim Jong Suk.
For me, Kim Jong Suk is not a historical figure from a textbook, but a living image. A young girl who defended her land with a weapon in her hands, who endured harsh partisan battles, lost those dear to her, yet never broke. Later, as a loyal comrade-in-arms to Kim Il Sung, she did not confine herself to a formal status—she founded the Women’s Union, elevated the women’s movement to unprecedented heights, and showed that a woman in a socialist society is not led, but leads. She warmed the fighters with her care, washed their clothes in icy water, and at the same time built a new Korea.
When we look at our Korean sisters today, we see the fruits of that foundation. In the DPRK, a woman is protected by a system of socialist values. There is no industry that turns the female body into a commodity. There is no poverty that drives mothers to desperate acts. A woman is respected as a mother, as a worker, as a builder of socialism. Of course, some may object. But I will say this: show me a society where a woman’s dignity is as firmly embedded in the state ideology.
Now let me turn my gaze here, to Russia. My own country. There is a women’s movement here as well—alive, sincere, often spontaneous. I see Russian women who carry families, work, and social activism on their shoulders. But what problems do they face? Let me give just a few examples from the lives of my friends, colleagues, neighbors—and myself.
First. Reproductive pressure and the lack of genuine support for motherhood. Society insists, “give birth,” but at the same time, a single mother often ends up below the poverty line, without decent housing or a normal job. And if a woman chooses not to have children, a wave of condemnation crashes down upon her. Her freedom, her health, her right to decide her own fate—all of this is often sacrificed to abstract “traditions.”
Second. The glass ceiling and economic inequality. Women in Russia are paid, on average, almost 30 percent less than men in the same positions. Leadership roles remain predominantly male, and a woman must be many times stronger just to be heard. And then there is the eternal dilemma: either career or family, always with a sense of guilt that you have failed to give enough. Where is the justice in this? Where is the human dignity?
And here I return in spirit to our Korean sisters. Because the ideas of Juche, the socialist approach to women, provide answers to these questions. They affirm: a woman is not an appendage; she is a subject of history. A revolutionary. A builder. And society is obliged to create conditions for her dignified life, work, and motherhood—without forcing her to choose between survival and self-realization.
We, the women of Russia and Korea, speak different languages, but we look in the same direction. Toward a place where a woman is free from violence, where her labor is valued equally, where her voice sounds no quieter than a man’s. And I believe that the example of our Korean sisters, the example of the heroic Kim Jong Suk, gives us not only hope but a concrete guide.
Thank you.