For us in Myanmar, the art reflects our reality.
I must be ready to be the best person I can be to serve my country.
That day, my sister was not scared. She protested because what is happening in Myanmar is not right.
Here in Idlib, Syria, we have gone back to the most primitive ways of living: We cook on coal. We wash our clothes by hand. But we are surviving. Some days it feels like a miracle.
From the Congo to a refugee camp in Kenya to resettlement in Austin, TX—this is the story of a doctor who is starting over.
I told him clearly in that interview: “I am here because I’m afraid I will be killed in my country. I cannot return to Guatemala. I will die if I do.” The immigration officer acted like he did not understand.
We left Syria at five a.m. on the morning after my ninth-grade exit exam.
I do not want to be tire. My life is tire.