Fighting for community
Paw Ku, a Bethel student and Karen refugee from Thailand works to support Karen communities locally and globally.
By Katelyn Rentschler | Freelance Reporter
Paw Ku snatched a T-shirt and stuffed it in her backpack without her mother noticing. She zipped it closed. Ku’s mother always dressed her in traditional Karen clothing — vibrant stitching, tassels and ankle-length material — immediately labeling her as an outsider in St. Paul Minnesota.
The minute the 9-year-old exited the bus, she booked it to the school bathroom where she hoisted her dress over her head, unzipped her backpack, slipped the t-shirt on and crammed the dress into her backpack.
“I was ashamed of being Karen because when we say we’re Karen, nobody knows who the Karen are,” Ku said.
The Karen (Kah-rehn) are an ethnic minority originating from the hilly eastern border of Burma. The country had been engaged in a civil war from 1948 until 2004 — the result of a power struggle ignited after gaining independence from British colonizers. Though a ceasefire had been negotiated, the Burmese military dictatorship, the Junta, refused to yield in their mistreatment of the Karen and other minority groups. Ethnic cleansing. Burned villages. Destroyed crops. Bombings. Forced labor. Torture. Rape. Executions without trial.
In the merciless face of persecution, thousands of Karen abandoned everything and fled to Thailand.
Ku was born and lived eight years of her life in Tham Hin, a Thai refugee camp. Her parents left behind their large families in exchange for the camp’s physical safety. In Tham Hin, Ku could walk its streets adorned in her traditional Karen clothing without fear of exclusion.
Minnesota was different; she knew it as soon as she landed. The winter horizon was gray, and snow banks suppressed any hint of undergrowth. Ku would look out the window of her apartment, see the tall buildings, and notice the barren streets. It was so unlike the bustling streets she was accustomed to in Tham Hin.
“I was ashamed of being Karen because when we say we’re Karen, nobody knows who the Karen are.” — Paw Ku, Bethel student
In elementary school, kids would make fun of her broken English on the bus until her cheeks felt wet.
“Just being an immigrant in America — It’s not easy. The language barrier, the new experiences, the financial situation, and everything,” Ku said.
Through years of bathroom shirt swaps and limited communication with other students, Ku remained isolated in school. Until fourth grade, when another Karen student, Dy Say Der, joined her class.
“Paw used to keep all her struggles to herself. I could tell that she was having a hard time with the transition from high school to college but she never explicitly showed it” — Dy Say Der, friend
In high school the two girls became involved in Karen club, a place they felt understood. No more hiding their clothes, culture, language and food. They showcased it.
In 2019, Ku started her first semester at Bethel University. In high school, success came easy; she aced every class. Now, when she pulled Moodle up to check her grades, all she could see was her failure in the form of F’s. She had never failed a class before. She had breakdowns, she gained the freshman fifteen.
There weren’t many Karen students on campus either. It was like she was back in elementary school again, the only one different in a sea of students who were the same.
“I’ve always been a grateful person who sees challenges as something I can grow out of.” –Paw Ku, Bethel student
Ku kept one constant in her transition to college: her friend Der. Even though they were best friends, Ku kept her identity crisis of unmet expectations for herself bottled up.
“Paw used to keep all her struggles to herself. I could tell that she was having a hard time with the transition from high school to college, but she never explicitly showed it,” said Der.
She never showed it until Der did.
“She will cry in front of me saying that it’s OK,” Ku said. “She showed me that it’s OK to be vulnerable.”
Ku works as an activities coordinator for her church, Hosanna Karen Baptist. On special occasions like Christmas Eve, Ku stands in front of the whole congregation and leads them in games. Other times she visits congregants’ houses to pray, deliver gifts, and eat Burmese noodles.
“I feel like without faith, I would be hopeless,” she said.
In February 2021, the Burmese military coordinated a coup, detaining remaining democratic leaders. The abuses against the Karen minority surged. Tens of thousands lost their homes and continue to hide out in the jungle without access to clinics or schools. Ku listened as her mom communicated with their displaced relatives over the phone. There are so many of them, Ku can’t keep their names straight.
At nonprofit Urban Village’s facilities, Ku worked diligently, alongside other Karen youth to bring relief to internally displaced Karen. Together they assembled hundreds of egg rolls to sell. Co-Executive Director Jesse Phenow enjoyed teasing Ku that his egg-roll-making-skills exceeded hers. As fat snowflakes descended from above, volunteers knelt on the sidewalk, frying up the rolls in searing oil. Ku posted fliers for the fundraiser at Bethel and promoted it by word of mouth. With the funds, Urban Village commissioned a team to cross the Burmese border from Thailand and provide displaced individuals with necessities.
Ku’s support for the local and worldwide Karen community goes beyond making and selling egg rolls.
“Dude, she’s amazing,” Phenow said. “She’s one of our youngest financial supporters.”
Ku has contributed to the organization from her own pocket for two years. She consistently shows up and volunteers at their events, and according to Phenow, is paving the way for other Karen youth planning on attending Bethel through Urban Village’s ‘Fight for Something’ Scholarship.
More and more Karen students have been choosing to attend Bethel. Students like Ku, who from time to time chooses to wear her Karen clothing. There are days she’ll wear a traditional long skirt to church and pair it with a Hollister T-shirt. There are days she’ll lift weights at The Wellness Center dressed in her ‘Bethel University’ quarter zip. When navigating cultural divides and all-nighters, Ku pushes through.
“I’ve always been a grateful person who sees challenges as something I can grow out of.”
