Episode #423: Ian Taylor is a Canadian photographer whose life shifted from the film industry to decades of work and travel across Southeast Asia. His first experience was with a government-sponsored Asian Studies program in the early 1990s. His early visits to Burma during the junta’s “Visit Myanmar Year” left a strong impression, and he became involved for a short time in advertising there.

By the late 1990s, Taylor had left advertising for photography, focusing on family portraits and NGO assignments across Asia. A formative volunteer trip to Bangladesh further deepened his commitment to humanitarian work, and led him back to Burma.

Taylor left the country in 2015, but reconnected in 2023 through the Thailand-based Border Consortium (TBC). He soon embarked on a volunteer photo project in five refugee camps, describing them as “an active, bustling town with everything.” His photography resists exploitative “poverty porn” and favors portraits that reflect dignity and agency. “Every portrait, in some way, it’s a collaboration.”

Critical of the tourism industry’s distortions, Taylor remains focused on authenticity, connection, and service. In his words: “If you could go to a holiday in the Maldives or something... well, I’d rather go [to a refugee camp]!”

Episode #422: “There is beauty in owning one's racial identity. There's beauty in owning, valuing, and respecting one's heritage, ancestors, sexual identity, and gender identity. But on the other side of the coin, there can also be imprisonment there.”

So says Bhante Sumano, an African-American monk at Empty Cloud Monastery. This is the 6th episode in our ongoing “Intersections of Dhamma & Race” series, in which we examineentrenched protocols, practices and biases within the vipassana and mindfulness communities.

Bhante Sumano begins by telling us how he came to take on the monk’s robes. Originally from Jamaica, he moved to New York City for college and has stayed there ever since. Bhante Sumano trained under Thich Nhat Hanh and Thanissaro Bhikkhu before ultimately deciding that Empty Cloud was the best fit for him, as he appreciated the flexibility and openness in how the monastery embraced different Theravadin traditions.

Bhante Sumano goes on to describe how the Buddha’s teachings have guided him in understanding and responding to racism. He expresses disappointment with how he has seen the wider Buddhist community respond to the recent social justice movement, and feels that even many experienced teachers have “blind spots” that prevent deeper understanding. Finally, he shares the value in providing safe spaces where practitioners of color can come to practice the Dhamma.

Episode #421: Saijai Liangpunsakul, whose first name means “the link between two hearts,” speaks of her journey through the turbulent conflict of Myanmar, and how the kindness and resilience of the Myanmar people continue to inspire her. Now a recognized expert on digital trauma and rights, she has come a long way from her small southern Thailand village. She travelled to Costa Rica on her own at 15 years on a student scholarship, and continued her global education in Canada and the US.

The spark for her defining work ignited during the Arab Spring in Egypt, where she was on an exchange program from college. She witnessed firsthand technology's power for social change. This fascination changed the trajectory of her thinking about a career, and she initially joined an organization that utilized digital technology for healthcare access around the world. Then a stopover in Myanmar between work-related destinations in 2014 changed her life. She became captivated by the country and its digital revolution, and her planned two-week detour turned into six years.

However, her initial perspective on the promise of technology in Myanmar hid technology’s darker underbelly. Saijai saw it transform into a “digital battleground” used for hate speech and oppression, notably against the Rohingya. She recognized Facebook's complicity in this growing problem, noting that it only had two people at that time to do all of content moderation for Myanmar. Saijai also describes a “devastating” situation now unfolding in Myanmar, one that combines real-life sexual and gender-based violence with tech-facilitated abuse. To combat this scourge – and coupled with her own terrible, personal experience of being harassed online – she felt compelled to act. She co-founded Myanmar Witness to document abuses, and also Stop Online Harm, an “online ambulance” providing crucial technical, psychosocial, and legal support for survivors of digital trauma.

“The answer was the community,” she says. “It is to hear the story of another woman go through abuse, how another woman can survive, and that makes me feel like I can be that too,” she affirms.

Episode #420: “This is this shit is real. This is not a dream. This is real.”

Burmese actor and public figure Khar Ra recounts a path that runs from Mogok to Yangon, into entertainment, and then—after the 2021 coup—into public dissent, displacement, and ongoing advocacy.

He grew up on Mogok’s west side. Money was tight; his father died from alcohol; his mother remarried and left; with no siblings, he lived among relatives and kept one house rule: don’t drink, don’t smoke. Before leaving he told a friend he would not return unless he had become an artist.

In Yangon Khar Ra studied English at Dagon University while translating, working restaurant shifts, and taking shortterm jobs. A friend urged him into a modeling contest; he arrived in borrowed clothes, learned fast, and in 2014 was named Mr. Asia Myanmar, then placed second runnerup at the regional Mr. Asia pageant. Work followed across modeling, music, and film. He notes the limits of precoup censorship—no profanity even in gangster scripts, intimacy restricted.

On January 31, 2021, Khar Ra was planning his next series of films; by morning the coup began. Within days he joined rallies with ’88 Generation figures, raised the threefinger salute, shared inthe 8 p.m. potandpan protests, and posted blunt messages against the regime. He also redirected his platforms to verified needs— medicine, rent, transport— adding, “We must carry on what we are doing. We can’t waste their sacrifice… We’re in this together, and we will fight until the end. We can make it happen.”

After a fellow celebrity’s detention, his own name appeared under Section 505(a). Khar Ra hid with relatives, then left Yangon in a longyi and glasses, passing seven checkpoints. He moved toward the Thai–Myanmar border and into ethniccontrolled areas, met displaced families, and says the shift was clear: “I am on a path of revolution… It is happening.”

The next phase took him to the United States. He joined fundraisers (including a San Francisco night he says raised over US$90,000), acted in a UCLA student short—his first screen role in nearly five years—and assembled a small documentary from an elevenday Karen trip. Exile, he says, cost him identity and purpose, yet his pledge stands: “I will keep supporting the movement.I’ll fight until the end.”

Episode #419: “I’m just doing what is right, what is wrong, what’s the matter? What should I do as a human being?”

After medical school, instead of choosing comfort, Dr. Myay Latt went to the Naga Self-Administered Zone — a place with no roads or electricity, where he was often the first doctor anyone had seen. He built bamboo clinics, trained villagers, and survived falls off cliffs while fighting malaria and tuberculosis. “They think I’m a strange person,” he says, laughing, “but they thank me.”

His work took him across Myanmar’s forgotten corners — from Chin to Rakhine, where he ignored warnings and treated patients in areas marked No Entry for Rohingya. “I just want to heal people,” he says. “Not take sides.” In Putao, near the Kachin mountains, he reached villages by boat and foot, sleeping in leech-infested huts and learning the depth of his country’s suffering.

When the coup came in 2021, he and friends spent the night awake in Yangon, drinking whiskey and waiting. “It’s like slapping our face,” he says. Out of that shock came an idea, inspired so many decades ago by Gandhi’s nonviolent crusade against the British: What if we stop their machine? He and other doctors decided then and there, to refuse to work under the junta. By morning, the Civil Disobedience Movement was born. Within days, hospitals, banks, and ministries stood still.

The regime answered with bullets and airstrikes. “They’re so inhumane,” he says. “Hospitals, schools — they don’t care who’s inside.” He calls the attacks a clear breach of international law and urges only one thing: stop bombing civilians.

Today, Myay Latt leads Heartland Union, bringing medical aid to Myanmar’s war zones. Many of his colleagues are gone. Still, he meditates and carries on. “Sometimes I cry at night, just hearing a Burmese traditional song,” he says softly. “But I will do whatever I can to win this revolution.”

Episode #418: Lorraine Pan is a 21-year-old queer, autistic, immigrant from China who now studies Women and Gender Studies at the University of Toronto (note that Pan’s preferred pronouns are they/their/them). Growing up in a small town, Pan felt alienated in a conservative school system that stigmatized neurodivergence. Their politicization began in high school during the Hong Kong protests of 2019: Chinese state media glorified police violence while censoring dissent, a contradiction that unsettled them. With friends’ help, Pan became more internet savvy, and soon learned to navigate China’s vast surveillance and censorship system, encountering authentic voices from Hong Kong and Taiwan. This experience, combined with exploring their queer identity, convinced Pan that remaining in China was impossible.

Canada offered relative safety, but Pan faced new struggles as a racial minority and first-generation immigrant navigating academic rigor, visa pressures, and financial uncertainty. They describe themselves as an “in-betweener,” belonging fully neither in China nor abroad. Online, they built a platform linking movements across Asia, with solidarity for Hong Kong, Taiwan, Myanmar, and LGBTQ rights. But harassment eventually forced them offline, shifting their activism toward speaking and community work.

Pan emphasizes intersectional solidarity, noting that movements must center marginalized groups—such as LGBTQ individuals within ethnic or displaced communities—rather than deferring their rights until after “democracy.” For Pan, democracy without equity is hollow. They reject hierarchy and leader-centrism, advocating decentralized organizing and valuing intergenerational exchange despite tensions with older activists.

Pan’s internet experiences in China, and conversations with friends still there, deepened their empathy for activists in Myanmar. The parallels were clear: Myanmar’s regime shuts the internet down entirely, while China keeps it open but tightly censored and monitored. Both methods silence dissent and inflict lasting trauma. Seeing this connection reinforced Pan’s conviction that authoritarian repression is shared across borders and that transnational solidarity is essential.

This bonus episode features the recording of a special online meditation fundraiser hosted by Better Burma in partnership with Vipassana Hawaii. The event combined meditation, reflection, and stories from the ground in Myanmar, highlighting how monasteries and nunneries have become lifelines—providing shelter, food, and education for displaced families amid crisis. Mora, who leads our monastic support team, shares firsthand accounts of resilience and need, while Vipassana Hawaii teachers guide practice and reflection. Donation links mentioned in the session remain active, with contributions continuing to sustain these monastic communities and their vital humanitarian role.

Episode #416: In the early 1990s, a chance encounter with Burmese student exiles in Bangkok sparked Nic Dunlop’s enduring interest in the country. His initial ignorance of the country developed into curiosity, empathy, and visual storytelling. As a photojournalist, Dunlop has spent years documenting the “invisible dictatorship” of Myanmar’s military regime, focusing on the mechanisms of social control, forced labor, and repression.

His 2013 book, Brave New Burma, aimed to educate Western audiences about the complex realities behind simplistic narratives. Rather than reinforcing the myth of Aung San Suu Kyi as a saintly figure, he presents her as a tough leader shaped by privilege, critiquing her understanding of marginalized communities alongside a limited understanding of the country’s peripheral conflicts. He also challenges the Western romanticization of both Suu Kyi and Myanmar, arguing that it led to performative policies and a blindness to the structural conditions that enabled the 2021 coup.

Dunlop documents not just brutality, but structure—capturing how indoctrination, poverty, and coercion shape Myanmar’s military conscripts. From refugee camps to prison quarries, his work illustrates repression both subtle and overt. His photographs, including one of Suu Kyi herself, offer visual testimony to the country's contradictions. In the end, he emphasizes humility as essential to understanding Myanmar: “The more I learn about Burma, the less I know.”