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“They just didn't believe me at first. So I had to prove to them.”
That single sentence frames Xiao Yar Yar’s journey — a fight not just against disbelief, but against a system determined to erase him. His life reflects the brutal reality of Myanmar’s crisis and the strength of those who refuse to surrender. It is a story marked by violence and betrayal, but also by resilience and the determination to keep moving forward against overwhelming odds.
When the military seized power and declared the election results fraudulent, Xiao Yar Yar knew it was a lie. He had collected votes himself and seen the truth with his own eyes. Watching peaceful protestors gunned down in the streets stripped away any illusion of safety. In that moment, he chose resistance. A student preparing to be a teacher, he set aside his future and entered a new battlefield— one where his role would be to save lives as a medic.
“I received the medical training after the revolution. Before the revolution, I was just a young man trying to be a teacher," he notes.
His post-coup education came not from classrooms but from crisis itself. Volunteers and fellow resisters taught him how to stop bleeding, apply tourniquets, stabilize the wounded, and keep fighters alive. Later, he trained others in these same skills, turning frightened recruits into fighters capable of protecting one another. The dangers were not limited to combat. Malaria, dengue, kidney stones from contaminated water, and exhaustion stalked the frontlines. Mental wounds were just as devastating— fighters shattered by the loss of friends and the relentless pressure of survival. In those moments, Xiao Yar Yar was not only a medic but also a counselor, using humor, conversation, and small gestures— like cooking noodles or bringing snacks— to keep morale from collapsing.
Support came in many forms. Through his initiative, “Owl Company,” he supplied hundreds of hammocks, backpacks, food, and even small comforts like hamburgers or soft drinks, delivered right to those on the front line, and filling critical gaps that larger organizations overlooked. These items, simple but vital, meant survival in the jungle and reminded fighters of life beyond the war. He also dreamed of expanding Owl Company into medical support and fundraising by selling handmade products to sustain future missions.
The humanitarian crisis was not confined to fighters. In IDP camps, families displaced by airstrikes and raids faced hunger, contaminated water, and little or no medical care. Children risked illness or injury just to drink. Xiao Yar Yar delivered what he could— curries, chicken, anything more nourishing than the banana stems they were surviving on— and once provided water filters to protect children from disease after boiling water left them burned. These efforts saved lives, but the deeper wounds were psychological. Families carried trauma that no one addressed. “I think the NUG has to take an action about the IDP and the civilian mental health issue,” he stresses, highlighting how psychological care has been neglected while weapons and strategies took priority. He notes that some groups organized art, song, and play for displaced children, but such projects were rare and underfunded.
As if war and displacement were not enough, Xiao Yar Yar also bore the burden of prejudice. “There is a lot of discrimination, because of [me] being an LGBTQ,” he says. In training camps, he was mocked as weaker, while trans women were pressured to hide their identity. Once he was mistakenly placed in a fighter camp, enduring weapons training he neither sought nor excelled at, then ridiculed for not matching his peers’ physical expectations. Yet he refused to be defined by scorn. Excelling in medic training, he became a leader and proved that LGBTQ people could fight, save lives, and contribute fully to the struggle. Although bias never vanished, respect gradually followed. “I have faced the discrimination for my whole life,” he reflects, but his persistence eventually forced others to rethink their assumptions.
Over years of resistance, he has witnessed transformation in the conflict. In 2021, for example, fighters carried improvised weapons. Now, they have access to real arms, better training, and stronger organization. The military, once untouchable, is weakened and forced to conscript unwilling youths. Still, he warns that progress depends on unity. Divisions among PDFs and EAOs could undo everything gained.
Xiao's closing words are unflinching. To the people of Myanmar, he urges persistence: the path is long and brutal, but there is no choice but to continue. To the international community, his message is clear: stop sending aid through the junta. Every supply passed through them strengthens oppression. Instead, direct assistance to the resistance and the displaced is the only way to support democracy and survival.
Xiao Yar Yar’s testimony is proof that Myanmar is bleeding but not broken. The fight is against soldiers, sickness, displacement, and prejudice all at once. Through it all, voices like his show that survival itself is resistance—and a fragile but undeniable hope for a different future.
“We have to unite very well," Xiao says. "And then we have to fight the military, with our union: all of the country, all of the EAOs and all of the PDFs.”