We Are All Mu

For all the women dreaming of safety, dignity, and a future shaped by their own choices.

I saw online that it's International Women’s Day (if that’s even what we’re calling it anymore), and I immediately thought of Mu. For two women from such vastly different corners of the world, with lives shaped by wildly different experiences and circumstances, we share an unexpected amount of common ground. We both made incredibly hard decisions as teenagers for our children. We both moved to unfamiliar places sight unseen. We both wrestle deeply with cultural differences. But the starkest difference between us is this: I was born into privilege, and she into war.

It’s been two years since I first met Mu through the grainy glow of a Zoom screen. Her eyes were sharp, focused intently on every word during our one-on-one ESL lessons. For me, English had never been particularly fascinating; until I took a job in a newsroom 13 years ago. But for Mu, it is more than a language - it’s a lifeline. Every word she studies with eagerness and urgency in hopes to someday join the United States military.

Mu Hpare celebrates Karenni National Day in Des Moines. (Photo by SARAH SCULL)

Mu lives in central Iowa with her husband and two children. Her story, however, begins far from the Midwest. At just five years old, her family was forced to flee their village in Burma to escape the brutal military regime and ethnic violence that ravaged their community. As members of the Kayan tribe, they faced relentless persecution and the constant threat of death. With no other choice, they sought refuge in a camp across the border in Thailand.

In Thailand, Mu became what she described as a “tourist attraction.” Kayan women are known for their long necks, adorned with brass rings; a cultural symbol of beauty. While the tips from posing for photos helped her survive, the work was degrading. For a young girl with a child, options were scarce. Then, one day, a UN worker offered her a chance to start anew in the United States. She had to decide in an instant.

“I could die here or there. I risked nothing,” she told me.

Kayan women in htamein, a traditional Burmese wrap skirt worn by women of various ethnic groups in Myanmar. (Photo by SARAH SCULL)

Months later, I found myself standing in a community hall alive with color and music. Woven skirts and embroidered outfits swirled as members of the tight-knit refugee community from Burma/Myanmar danced in the grass, waving scarves in the air. At the center of it all was Mu, a calm anchor in the swirling sea of people. And clearly a well-known figure in her community. After the dance, I was invited inside to share a meal. Mu introduced me to everyone - friends and family - ensuring I felt welcome.

Watching her that day, I was nearly brought to tears. I realized the full scope of her life - not just a student and mother, but a leader and a pillar of strength for others who, like her, had been uprooted by violence and replanted on foreign soil. She could have been bitter, resentful for all she’s endured. Instead, her experience fuels her mission to serve others helping them find resources, acclimate to their new lives, and preserve the traditions of home.

During a quiet moment in the hallway, Mu’s husband, who was born and raised in the U.S., approached me. “Have you seen the documentary about her life?” he asked.

“What? There’s a documentary?”

He chuckled. “She didn’t tell you?”

“I had NO IDEA!”

“She’s humble,” he said, casting a fond glance in her direction. “She won’t say anything about it, but you should watch it. You should know how amazing she is.”

That night, as I drove back to Creston, my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. I thought about the documentary I hadn’t known existed, about the weight of a duffle bag she counter-balanced on her chest as she carried her baby boy on her back with blind faith across the world. I thought about how she told me “I owe America everything.”

Mu reminds me of how little we truly know about the people who cross our paths, the battles they’ve fought, and the worlds they’ve left behind - both physically and metaphorically.

This International Women’s Day, I want you to think about the refugees living among us. People like Mu. Think about the freedoms that women around the world still fight for: access to education, health care, and the right to make decisions about one’s own body. Think about the broader struggle of women everywhere who dream of safety, dignity, and a future shaped by their own choices. We - you and me - are Mu.

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I’m a proud member of the Iowa Writer’s Collaborative, a group of over 70 journalists and authors writing from and about the great state of Iowa. Access all of us here.