My Journey

I am a Rohingya woman from Myanmar, also known as Burma, and I now live in Australia. My story is of resilience, hope, and an unyielding connection to my culture and family.

When I was 10 years old, my family fled Myanmar to escape persecution. We were running from a place we had called home for generations, which had turned into a land of violence and fear for people like us. My parents made the difficult decision to leave everything behind for the sake of their children’s safety. We crossed the sea on a small wooden boat crowded with a hundred others. I remember the earthy smell of the wooden planks beneath us, the salt stinging my skin, and the quiet strength of my mother as she tried to reassure me with her gaze, despite the fear I could see in her light brown eyes.

We arrived in Australia in 2013 and spent three months in an immigration detention centre in Darwin. It was during this time that I experienced school for the first time. I didn’t understand why we had to leave or how drastically our lives would change. I missed the comfort of my extended family and the familiar sights of our village. However, I held on to one important thing: my parents and siblings. They are everything to me and gave me the courage to dream of a better future.

Growing up in Australia, I carried my memories of Myanmar with me. I am the eldest of seven siblings, and in our home, we kept our traditions alive. My parents spoke to us in our native Rohingya language, and my mother taught us recipes passed down through generations—aromatic curries, soft flatbreads, and sweet, syrupy desserts that tasted like home. Even now, every bite connects me to my ancestry, reminding me of where I come from and the strength of my people.

My childhood memories are a blend of hardship and love. I think back to the stories my grandmother used to tell before we fled—tales of our ancestors, their resilience, and their kindness. Even though I haven’t seen her since the COVID-19 pandemic, her words continue to be a part of me. I hope to pass those same stories on to my siblings and future generations, helping to keep our heritage alive.

In 2021, I faced another challenge when I couldn’t attend university due to my visa status. It felt like another roadblock, a reminder of being stuck between worlds—neither fully belonging to the country of my birth nor fully accepted in my new home. However, in 2022, I received a second chance through a pathway program supported by a full scholarship. Studying at university alongside my peers was a dream come true, one that came with immense gratitude and determination.

Finally, in 2024, I received the Resolution of Status (RoS) visa. This permanent visa provided the stability I had longed for. It felt like stepping into the light after years of uncertainty. I became eligible for HECS-HELP and Commonwealth support, which lifted the financial burden on my family. It was a reminder that even the hardest journeys can lead to brighter days.

What I Want the World to Know About My Culture

Being Rohingya means being part of a community that values family, resilience, and compassion. We are a people shaped by hardship but united by hope. Even in the face of persecution, our culture remains vibrant. Through our language, food, and traditions, we carry the legacy of our ancestors wherever we go.

I want young people worldwide to know that their roots are their strength, no matter where they come from or what they’ve been through. My culture has taught me that we are stronger together and that even in exile, we can find ways to thrive and preserve what makes us unique.

As a Gen Z person living abroad, I want to be a bridge between worlds. This voice connects my community’s past to its future, inspiring others to embrace their identities and stand in solidarity with those still fighting for freedom and dignity.