Content Warning: This following article contains material that might harmful and traumatizing to some audiences.
To be frank, I am tired of educating people about what is happening in Myanmar. I am tired of summarizing every war crime that has been committed against the people of Myanmar into a sentence or two. As a matter of fact, I am tired of labeling what is happening in Myanmar as “a civil war” because that’s not how I feel. This is not a civil war, this is not just a “conflict,” this is not “turmoil,” this is a movement for liberation and freedom. This is a resistance against terrorism. In this article, I don’t want to write about the politics, the statistics, the amount of people that were killed, or how many villages have disappeared, and I especially don’t want to talk about how helpless we’ve been. All of this information is a click away on your Google search bar, if you really care about it.
I want to write about the story of my teenage experience during what felt like the darkest chapter of my life. I want to write about the bravest people I know. I want to write about the martyrs who sacrificed their lives for our country, and died while fighting for what they believe. I want to write about the loss, the grief, and the survival of it.
Win Maw Oo: A Symbol of Resistance
Win Maw Oo was a 16-year-old high school student who was the eldest daughter of six. On Sept. 19, 1988, she marched alongside her classmates while holding a photo of an independent hero: General Aung San, against the objections of her parents. As part of Myanmar’s military violence during the protests, she was shot by soldiers, who put one bullet in her chest and two in her legs. The image of two medical students carrying Win Maw Oo's bloodied body became a symbol of the opposition to Myanmar's violent military “government”. She became a symbol of the "8888 movement" for her sacrifice. In her final request, Win Maw Oo asked that her funeral be postponed until Burma had achieved democracy. Her family performed Win Maw Oo's final Buddhist burial rites in May 2016, 28 years later. One month after the democratically elected government headed by Aung San Suu Kyi took office.
Photo credit: Steve Lehman
Although I was not alive during that time, her bravery was passed down to me through my parents' stories, who were also teenagers during the 1988 revolution. Her story was never documented in history textbooks, never broadcasted on news channels, but to me, she remains an unsung hero who still inspires me to this day.
Mya Thwate Thwate Khaing: The First Martyr of the 2021 Revolution
Mya Thwate Thwate Khaing was 19 when she was shot in the head by a police officer during a violent crackdown on protesters at the nation's capital, Naypyidaw. I remember that day vividly; it was Feb. 9, 2021, nine days after the coup happened. Myanmar’s police brutality and the violence of the military regime had always been history to me, but seeing the video of her getting shot by the police on the news, in real life, knowing what the future was going to be like, realizing how little the military regime cared about human life—it was devastating. I went non-verbal that day because she could have been my sister, my brother, my friend, or me.
Mya Thwate Thwate Khaing turned 20 at the hospital she was sent to. When she died, they put her remains in a bag and carried her away.
Khant Nyer Hein: A Martyr Close to My Heart
I have a lot to talk about him. He was an alumnus of the high school that I graduated from. He was only 17-years-old when he was murdered. He was the class of 2019 of our high school. He was bright and smart, a star student whom the teachers loved and spoke about greatly. He was a first-year medical student when he was murdered.
Medical school students were the first ones to start the "Civil Disobedience Movement" of the revolution. They all stopped going to school to show the military regime that they would not get their education under the monstrous "leaders" who cared little about human lives. Later, other university students followed. Then, civil servants followed. Medical students have been prominent figures during the revolution.
Getting into medical school is one of the most honorable things you can do in Myanmar, and boycotting the universities showed how determined they were. Most parents of medical students did not agree with the boycott because of the immense pressure, effort, time, and money invested in getting into medical schools—all of which seemed to be going to waste. It did not make sense to most parents. The medical students faced fights at home, at university, and on the streets. But the boycott was crucial and had a big impact. Their effort and sacrifices shook the entire country to participate in the resistance movement.
I will never forget the day Khant Nyer Hein passed away. The video of him getting shot and beaten up by the police, with a girl trying to help him from being arrested spread across Facebook. His bloodied body was dragged on the street as if he was not someone's precious son, as if he was not a child. The day he was killed was March 14, 2021. We were the same age; I've reached the age of 21 and while I got to be an adult, he stayed 17.
After that, my parents did not allow me to go to the streets to protest anymore.
My name is Khin La Pyae Wunn. I am the daughter of two political activists who were teenagers during the 1988 revolution. I was raised by pro-democracy ideologist parents. I participated in the 2021 revolution as much as I could. I went to my first protest with my mother on the third day of the coup. I sold my books and music albums to raise money for resistance movements. I had a near-death experience during one of the protests. Before the coup, my dream was to attend the University of Yangon, the university from which my father graduated. I dreamed of enrolling in an English major and becoming an English teacher later in life. I dreamed of not leaving my country.
I want to write about these stories in particular because I believe that the international community is failing to emotionally connect with Myanmar. They failed to understand that the people who were fighting for their freedom in the front lines were teenagers and young people who had dreams and plans. Who were someone else's precious child, brother, sister, or friend. The youth of Myanmar have always been the most overlooked yet the bravest people I’ve known. I do hope everyone will now see their sacrifices.
This is still the tip of the iceberg of what I’ve experienced and what I even know. Now that I am out of the country, the news barely reaches me. Journalism is pretty much dead in Myanmar. It’s been two years since and I don’t think I can even be the representative voice of what is happening in Myanmar right now. I am sure there are more stories I haven’t heard of or I’ve heard but have forgotten. All in all, I ask you, please don’t forget about Myanmar.