Drawing beyond silence: Exploring present realities and imagined futures of Karen encamped refugee youths

Temporary permanence: Refugee camps in Thailand

At the end of 2023, when this project concluded, 90,759 refugees from Myanmar were residing in nine camps along the Thailand-Myanmar border (The Border Consortium, 2023). In May 2025, The Border Consortium reported that the number had risen to 103,652. These camps host mostly ethnic Karen and Karenni individuals who initially fled the escalating conflict in Myanmar when the Tatmadaw (Myanmar army) intensified its attacks on the ethnic states in the late 1970s and early 1980s (Eh Htoo and Waters, 2024; South, 2011). The research presented in this article forms part of a larger ethnographic project called Exploring Karen refugee youths’ aspirations and wellbeing amidst protracted displacement in Thailand based in Mae La refugee camp and Nu Po refugee camp, located on the Thai side of the Thailand-Myanmar border.

Navigating barriers to understanding encamped populations

As ethnographers explore the lives of encamped populations, they encounter a formidable barrier to understanding, the reticence of participants in expressing their innermost thoughts and feelings (Brankamp, 2022; Hynes, 2003; Mackenzie et al., 2007). In my experience in the field, the complexities inherent in researching encamped Karen refugee youths are multifaceted and nuanced (Hill, 2021, 2022, 2022b; Hill et al., 2023). Their journeys of forced migration and resettlement or being born into encampment are often characterized by traumatic events, loss, and an unsettling sense of non-belonging. Like others (Cook et al., 2015; Demetriadi, 2017; Haroz et al., 2021), such experiences can engender a profound reluctance or difficulty to verbally disclose personal emotions and stories.

Positionality is fundamental, and as a cultural outsider, I was acutely aware of power dynamics and the potential re-traumatization that conventional interview-based approaches might elicit. As Miller (2004) aptly points out, outsiders cannot simply waltz into a community and start collecting data. In my previous research, after navigating the ethical considerations and gaining access to the fieldsite through gatekeepers and authorized channels, I encountered further challenges. As Malkki (1995) observes, traditional data collection methods, such as semi-structured interviews or direct observation, often fail to capture the full complexity of encamped experiences. Despite engaging with the encamped community for over 10 years and building trust, participants sometimes responded to my questions with “I don’t know,” “I don’t remember,” or with long silences. However, this was not because they lacked knowledge or memory of their experiences or even that they didn’t want to share. Rather, it was often due to difficulty articulating the painful and complex thoughts and emotions tied to their circumstances.

These moments prompted me to reflect on the limits of verbal communication and how conventional ethnographic approaches can fail to capture embodied or emotional experiences. Drawing offered a different kind of entry point, one that allowed for a slower, more relational way for me to see and hear. Although not addressing encamped populations directly, Ingold argues that ethnographers observe in the field but describe from afar. He writes that ethnographers turn away to write and thus become disconnected (Ingold, 2021). Reflecting on this, I can recall many moments during my research when I, too, turned away to focus on writing, inadvertently disconnecting from the immediacy of what I was observing and filtering it through my own lens.

This disconnection highlights the limitations of traditional ethnographic methods and emphasizes the need for alternative approaches that can offer a deeper, more immediate engagement with participants’ lived experiences. In this context, the integration of drawing emerged as a transformative tool with generous benefits. My focus, however, is not on the ethnographer as draughtsperson but on the participant and their analysis of their image. Influenced by Ingold’s perspective, I explore how drawing, on the one hand, as a form of thinking and making lines, is a way participants can bypass, for example, the initial silences and linguistic constraints and reveal their inner worlds with agency and creativity (Den Besten, 2010; Moskal, 2017; Theron et al., 2011) and on the other, a way for them to articulate their thought processes.

Fieldwork in Mae La and Nu Po

Our team comprised two principal investigators and four research assistants ² , four of whom were women. Recognizing my position as an outsider, I intentionally collaborated with five members of the Karen community, whose insights were integral to shaping the research process and navigating cultural sensitivities. The four research assistants in their 20s were based in the camps and shared generational and linguistic ties with the youth participants. Having local Karen research assistants of similar age to the participants allowed for a more nuanced understanding of the youth community’s experiences. Between each team member, our long-standing rapport with participants, built on trust, significantly benefited the project. Pain and Francis (2004) argue that involving young people throughout the research acknowledges their agency and voice. As youth were the focus of this project, it was imperative the team mainly consisted of young people.

Over the project’s 12-month duration, we were mindful of each team member’s positionality relative to the participants, considering how pre-existing social relationships, biases, and cultural norms could shape our interactions. Our ethics discussions, for example, explored the balance between being a researcher and activist, recognizing that the team’s shared experiences and time working with the community brought deep empathy, which was both a strength and a challenge. To address these dynamics, the research framework included regular reflective sessions to critically examine power dynamics and ensure that the participants’ voices were meaningfully centred and heard. Supporting this ethnographic approach, Tickle (2017) emphasizes that the practice of critical reflection and successful youth research depends more on the researcher’s ability to be self-aware, flexible, and trustworthy than simply following a fixed method.

Recruitment for participants was facilitated using a snowball sampling approach. While this method has limitations, such as potential sample bias and lack of randomization, it was the most suitable choice for working with this population. Snowball sampling capitalized on trust within ours and the youths’ pre-existing social networks, enabling the research team to access the participants more effectively. This created a sense of safety and familiarity. By combining this method with ongoing reflection around sensitivity to power dynamics, we worked to alleviate biases and ensure ethical engagement throughout the project.

We conducted 60 semi-structured individual interviews, eight focus groups, participant observations, drawing activities, follow-up interviews and an event where we shared our findings. We focused on an even split of women and men aged between 18 and 35. ³ We held community feedback events in both camps and presented our findings to key stakeholders and camp committees ⁴ .

The research process was conducted in five stages. The individual interview and drawing sessions involved a member of the research team and a participant. One significant limitation of conducting research in a camp setting is space and privacy (Aktar et al., 2020). The challenge lies in finding a safe, quiet area where the participant can speak freely, away from family members and neighbours. When buildings are predominantly made from bamboo and tightly packed together, maintaining confidentiality became a particular focus for our team. To address this, interviews were arranged, when possible, when other family members were out or conducted in spaces where the participant felt comfortable, such as at a local school. Each session began with an explanation of the project, the ethics, and the participant’s rights. This was followed by a semi-structured interview that explored questions about camp life, their well-being, and their future aspirations.

In the second stage, the participant was invited to participate in the drawing activity. They were given an A3 piece of paper and asked to draw a picture expressing their feelings about life in the camp and their vision for the future. Each participant was given a range of coloured pencils and crayons and invited to take as much time as needed. As with any method, there were complications. Initially, some participants expressed concern about their ability to draw. To avoid embarrassment, we suggested that we draw together – after witnessing our drawings, they seemed more comfortable about their own skills. To promote further reflection, discussion, and creativity inspired by Ayala and Zaal (2016), I would encourage participants to draw together in the future. I argue that youth tend to engage more effectively with creative and artistic approaches; thus, all our participants wanted to participate as this method provided a more relatable and less formal way to express themselves (Hunt, 2024; Literat, 2013; Tickle, 2017).

The third stage focused on analysis. Engaging with the participants verbally and exploring their interpretations meant multiple layers of information could be unpacked from the images. This process allowed the participants time to reflect on what they had created and dive deeper into their emotions. The drawings further supported the semi-structured interviews, opening a space to ask follow-up questions. This helped elicit additional information about the participants’ current realities and future imaginings in a more relaxed way. We could then circle back to the drawings and relate the semi-structured questions to what was visually present.

Stage four involved a follow-up interview about the drawing experience. This stage provided an opportunity for deeper reflection and helped the research team understand the participants’ perspectives on the activity. It further gave the participant time to speak and be heard. This stage offered a space to explore insights that may not have been immediately apparent during the earlier stages. This reflective phase enriched the data by uncovering additional layers of meaning and ensuring that the participants’ voices remained central to the research process. Many of our participants expressed that the drawing and follow-up discussion was helpful for them in thinking through their protracted displacement. Others mentioned that they “drew from the heart” or “drew from what I know”. They said it was easier to initially draw out their thoughts than to speak about them. In the final stage, we invited the participants and community to an event where we revealed our findings. This created additional space for the community to engage with the results and continue the discussion.

To protect participants’ identities and privacy, participants were invited to select a pseudonym from a list of Karen names. This gave participants a degree of agency and control over their narratives while ensuring their stories remained anonymous. This approach reflects a critical ethical consideration in research involving populations such as refugees, balancing protecting participant confidentiality with the need to represent their voices and experiences meaningfully (Gordon, 2019).

While it was not expected, there was the potential risk of emotional distress and re-traumatization. To address this concern and promote a secure and safe research environment, measures were implemented to offer emotional support and referrals if needed. Participants were offered access to resources such as the Karen Refugee Committee for emotional well-being and counselling assistance.

Drawing out hope and despair: visual narratives of refugee youths

Kyai arrived in Mae La when he was 2 years old (Figure 3). Referring to the camp as Belklo, meaning cotton field in S’gaw Karen, he explains:

“Some individuals possess identity cards. Some people own land that is separate from the camp. My family and I have nothing. Despite the fact that I lack everything, I am not disappointed.

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Figure 3.

Drawing by Kyai Pee long.

As a 20-year-old living in extraordinary circumstances, he finds comfort in familiar routines like watching his friends play football and using social media, but it is through drawing that he finds relaxation, happiness, and a way to express his inner thoughts and conflicts (Das, 2007; Hunt, 2024; Woroniecka-Krzyżanowska, 2014).

Although arts such as weaving, music, and dance are integrated into everyday Karen-encamped life and cultural traditions (MacLachlan, 2014; Mantei, 2012), Kyai was encouraged to draw by his family as a child. Drawing drew out the complexities and uncertainties of encamped life, and meaning was created through each line made and the hours spent capturing his world on paper. Finding it challenging to articulate his feelings about his present reality and future imaginings, when asked to draw a picture for this project, Kyai enthusiastically took part.

Linking memories with his future imaginings, Kyai’s picture depicts a clean, open space, something his present reality lacks. He points out that all the houses in Mae La are very close together, and space is a precious and scarce commodity in the already overcrowded refugee camp. He demonstrates empathy for those who have and continue to be affected by the 2021 military coup:

“When I see newcomers, it reminds me of the first time my family moved here. I even feel sorry for them.

He goes on to say that even though his confinement and “lack of everything” reaffirm his stuckness and immobility, he is aware that his situation is,

“better than theirs [newcomers]. There is no accommodation. Ten people are crammed into a small house. Their house appears to be very crowded.

Kyai’s perspective on his life reflects a sense of relative privilege and layered precarity within Mae La. While recognizing his own stuckness and immobility, his comment also points to a hierarchy of suffering within the camp, suggesting that even within the context of displacement, life in the camp is not a uniform experience.

I argue that the drawing exercise opened a space for Kyai to take agency over the initial interview (Moskal, 2017) and self-select details he thought were significant to his present reality and future imaginings. His drawing evoked childhood memories of a better time in Mae La, where there were fewer people and a clean stream that he could fish in (Figure 4):

“I've always enjoyed fishing since I was a kid. Even now, I enjoy fishing, but there are no fish in the Belklo [Mae La] stream. I will always go fishing if I ever travel to a third country. Third countries are rich in natural resources. The situations are peaceful and incomparable to here”.

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Figure 4.

Polluted stream in Mae La camp, provided by Eh T'Mwee.

Gagnon (2021) points out that the Karen find joy through cultivating, foraging, hunting, and fishing. The juxtaposition between Kyai’s drawing of the stream and fishing boat and his observation that there are no fish to be caught in Mae La illustrates the environmental challenges the encamped youths face and the desire for a cleaner, healthier life but also how cultural practices are being affected. His drawing further evoked the sense of smell and emotion. Kyai states that not only are there now no fish but there is a

“lot of noise pollution, air pollution, and an unpleasant odour in the camp. That smell bothers me. I can't take it anymore”.

Moving beyond the dichotomy of images versus text (Ingold, 2021), Kyai’s drawing is a powerful communication medium that expresses sensations, feelings, and ideas. Similar to Gatter’s (2025) discussion of encamped refugees in Syria, resistance and resilience were found in Kyai’s imagination. Drawing opened a space for Kyai to describe his reality and articulate how his life could be.

The natural environment featured significantly in many participants’ drawings and discussions. Drawings of trees, mountains, birds, and open fields conveyed a deep longing for the serenity and tranquillity of the natural environment, all positioned in contrast to the harsh, confined realities of camp life. Kyai’s drawing provided a space of freedom and escape where he could create a peaceful existence. Echoing the Karen proverb that emphasizes ‘living with’ and ‘caring for’ the water, trees, fish, and other elements of the natural environment, Kyai further creates an imagined belonging to a more traditional Karen way of life.

The participants fondly recalled a time when wild animals would drink from the stream and how they would fall asleep and wake to the soothing melodies of birdsong. However, even though Mae La is nestled against a mountain, there is a noticeable absence of singing birds when walking through the tightly packed streets. When I asked why I could only hear chickens, I was told that all the wild birds had been hunted for food. This speaks back to how the overcrowding in the camp has affected the biodiversity and the present realities of youths like Kyai.

Imagined mobility is also prominently featured in Kyai’s drawing in multiple ways. From the flow of the water in the stream to the fishing boat and the aeroplane, Kyai envisions a life where he can transcend the camp boundaries and escape his prolonged stuckness and immobility. In the case of the hot air balloon, he visualizes himself literally floating away (Figure 5).OPEN IN VIEWER

Unpacking the drawing further, when asked why the aeroplane featured a USA flag, Kyai said it represented his dream of moving to the United States for a better life full of opportunities. Moving to a third country was discussed by the majority of the youths and was supported by their drawings of cityscapes and travel. These drawings of nature interwoven with urban environments and journeys to distant places reflect the youths’ ambitions for a brighter future filled with opportunities beyond the confinement of the refugee camps.

Beyond the immediate depiction of natural elements, meaning is layered within Kyai’s drawing. In the background are three mountains. On one mountain, he wrote “Peace,” and on another, he drew four people climbing towards a flag ⁵ . The person nearest has their arms outstretched. First, Kyai states that the “Peace” mountain symbolizes the longing for a more stable and secure life. This desire extends beyond his needs to encompass a community ravaged by 75 years of civil war (South, 2011). Living in a peaceful society and the shared experience of persecution and displacement was a narrative thread evident in all the drawings and interviews. The mountain and climbers suggest a journey for something significant,

“if I get to go to a third country, I will climb its mountains.”

Kyai states that climbing represented overcoming challenges and striving for his goals. The person’s outstretched arms symbolized not only himself but his community reaching a collective objective for peace, and the flag signified a shared identity, unity, and achievement of the Karen people for self-determination and recognition.

The second drawing by 18-year-old Jhon Hser (Figure 6) provides rich context to the social and political spaces in which he lives. As Sharples reminds us, artistic expression is a “living contribution to an ongoing dialogue around political and cultural construction” (Sharples, 2012: p.38); creating art, specifically through drawing, serves as an active and dynamic contribution to understanding encamped personal narratives and provides insight into a given place and time.OPEN IN VIEWER

Jhon Hser’s drawing reaffirms how symbols such as the sun rising or setting over the mountains, rivers lined with flowers, and fields or forests full of fruit trees all carry political, social, and personal significance for a community without a recognized ‘homeland’. These symbols, for some, conceptualized the Karen ancestral land referred to in S’gaw Karen as Kawthoolei, a term coined by the Karen National Union during the late 1940s (Thawnghmung, 2013). Significantly, Kawthoolei has various translations such as “Kawlah mean[ing] ‘land which is green’ and is used to evoke images of Karen land as lush and natural” and ‘land of thoolei’ “where thoolei is the name [of] an edible plant abundant in eastern Burma” (Cho, 2013: np).

A peaceful, lush, imagined homeland provides an anchor of stability for the encamped youths in protracted displacement. The Karen have an oral history of passing down stories for education and entertainment (Harriden, 2002). This means that children have grown up listening to hta poetry ⁶ , where poets draw from ethnonationalist symbols around Kawthoolei, such as the Irrawaddy delta, the Salween River, and Mount Kwekabaw (Cho, 2013: np). Similar to the images drawn by Kyai and Jhon Hser, in Sharples’ 2012 research in Mae La, participants engaged in creative expression, writing songs and poems that “invoked a romanticized depiction of the landscape” (p.148). For instance, in the poem ‘I Love You, My Kawthoolei’, U Kyi writes:

The green pastures

Drawing from traditional songs, poems, proverbs, and the participants’ illustrations is vital as it allows for a comprehensive understanding of the emotional and cultural landscape experienced by the youths in protracted displacement. By incorporating different artistic expressions and in-depth conversations, I argue that drawing captured a multidimensional representation of the encamped youths’ experiences, illuminating the significance of their cultural identity, emotional ties to the homeland, and the impact of their displacement on their everyday lives.

Reaffirming an ideal vision, Jhon Hser has drawn a life lived in nature, yet unlike Kyai, he depicts these visual elements alongside images of trauma. Focusing on his future, Jhon Hser describes his journey into his future as a path full of thorns. He states that the road ahead is full of painful obstacles he must navigate to reach his goal. Like Kyai’s mountain and flag image, Jhon Hser’s drawing portrays himself walking over thorns toward a flag, serving as a metaphor not only for his struggle as a stateless person but also reflecting the challenges faced by his community in attaining national recognition.

When asked what the severed foot meant, Jhon Hser says that he feels tethered to the camp, and even if he wanted to leave, he faces many challenges,

“We don't have a chance to learn; it's like they lock our left leg to the camp. We cannot go any further. We can only go if we sacrifice and amputate our legs”.

Jhon Hser’s drawing provided insight into a profound sense of imprisonment, restriction, stuckness, and living limitations. It further articulates individuals’ nuanced struggle and sacrifice when contemplating leaving the camp. In my previous research (2022b) I argued that the conditioning of the camp and the life experiences of young Karen in Mae La affected their ability to function outside the camp. This insight and Jhon Hser’s drawing add further layers of complexity, highlighting the dynamics, struggles, and sacrifices associated with living in and the notion of leaving the camp.

Jhon Hser’s immobility and confinement are further depicted in the image of the pigs in a pen (Figure 7). At first, I assumed that these animals were happy, surrounded by the river and plants; however, John Hser explained that the pigs represented himself and his community and that the pen symbolized the camp:

“We are the same as the pigs. Even if they scream when hungry, they will not get food unless people feed them. When people hear their screams, they can just pretend to not hear”.

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Figure 7.

Drawing by Jhon Hser.

My misinterpretation of the pigs demonstrates the importance of discussing the drawings with the participants. As Zhang (2008) reminds us, drawings are subjective and vulnerable to misinterpretation (p.2089). The drawing and analysis stage further opened a space for Jhon Hser to express his artwork’s nuanced symbolism and deep thought and illuminate the complex emotions of stuckness and confinement he feels within his present reality.

Jhon Hser's drawing is not simply a visual representation of his everyday life or the feeling he had at the moment he placed the pencil on the paper, but a medium through which he vividly expresses the challenges and restrictions he faces. His artwork illustrates a sense of hopelessness and abandonment, where even when he articulates his needs and desires, they are not met with the assistance or support he requires. Like Kyai, his intention to write “we need peace” in English is a plea for understanding and help beyond their immediate community and the Karen language. It is a way to physically document their desire for peace, stability, and safety. Yet his drawing also demonstrates resistance and resilience and living beyond survival. As he moves over the path of thorns towards the flag, he is surrounded by the mountains, sun, trees, river, and the hope for a better future.

Finally, Naw Toh Poe is 29 and has lived in Nu Po for 22 years. The date of arrival is etched into her mind. She describes her loneliness growing up in a place where family and friends are repatriated, resettled, or have died in the camp, yet she remains; she waits:

‘I feel no attachment to anything in this world’.

While discussing Naw Toh Poe’s everyday life in the camp, we asked her what she likes to do in her free time when she is not looking after the house. She responded, ‘I’m not sure I get to be free; my life every day is the same’. I would argue that her reply revealed a disconnect between our initial interview question framed around ‘free time’ as a period of leisure and her lived reality in which time is experienced not as free but as constrained and repetitive. She says she weaves, knits, reads, plays on social media, and rests to pass her time. While seemingly ordinary, these activities suggest that her experience of freedom is entangled with confinement and the mundane. Her account highlights how stuckness is not only spatial but also temporal and how the mundane becomes both a site of constraint and subtle resistance.

Demonstrating the nuances and complexities of camp life, Naw Toh Poe describes how she is also a source of comfort for others, and although she states she has no happiness in her life, in the same breath, she speaks to the moments she engages with others over food or her love of sharing her knowledge of weaving. I argue that Naw Toh Poe’s depiction of her life in Nu Po camp is complex. She grapples with the feeling of emptiness and the constraints of her reality, yet there is also a richness of experience in the seemingly mundane activities she describes. Her drawing of a bird in a cage positioned against trees and flowers further supports the nuanced and stratified nature of life in a refugee camp.

Naw Toh Poe states that the bird in the cage represents her life in Nu Po and how reliant she is on aid:

“There's no door. I cannot go out if I'm not let out. I cannot eat if I'm not fed. If it [the bird] is not fed, it'll just die.”

Like Jhon Hser’s depiction of imprisonment, restriction, stuckness, and living limitations, Naw Toh Poe is tied to the camp. She offers a glimpse into her subjective experiences of reality and her inner landscape by setting the scene and framing the bird in the cage as the primary focus of the discussion. Yet Naw Toh Poe chooses to place the cage in the bottom left corner of the paper (Figure 8). I argue her chosen composition creates a sense of imbalance and tension. It draws the audience’s attention to the confinement and marginalization of life in the camp, where we are invited to witness the bird crying.OPEN IN VIEWER

She further reinforces the themes of immobility and restrictions by drawing the bird imprisoned with little space to move around. This is positioned against the other birds in her illustration, which are smaller than the bird in the cage, surrounded by an expanse of white paper.

Interestingly, Naw Toh Poe used a graphite pencil to depict the bird in the cage, whereas the trees and flowers are in colour. She states that the cage symbolizes her current sadness and isolation, and incorporating colour for the birds outside the cage, surrounded by vibrancy, represents other people’s freedom and her future happiness. Indicating the complexities of encampment, she or, in this case, the bird in the cage is not totally isolated from the outside world:

“These two birds see the bird in the cage. Like them, they want the bird to be free, but the bird in the cage cannot go. So, the little bird in the cage cries. That's my life in the refugee camp.”

By using the drawing to describe her feelings, she expands on this thought:

“These are birds free from cages. They get to live in their natural environment. They can fly freely. They can breathe fresh air. They get to see new things. It's different from the bird in the cage.”

Naw Toh Poe’s drawing illustrates the tensions of camp experiences through a sense of connection and disconnect, mobility and immobility. Despite physical separation and immobility, there is a shared desire and empathy for connection and freedom. Even under such restrictions, she knows she is not entirely cut off from those outside the camp gates.

Significantly, before 2022, Nu Po camp was considered more isolated than Mae La. Connecting to social media in Nu Po was challenging due to its location. The new telecommunication tower improved digital connectivity, opening a window to the world and its opportunities and a space where encamped youths could engage with people beyond the camp boundary. Unfortunately, this newfound virtual mobility has reaffirmed Naw Toh Poe’s physical immobility and stuckness. She watches her friends who have left the camp, usually through the resettlement program, like the birds in the picture, “fly freely”. They seemingly enjoy the pleasures of life without presumed restrictions while she is still caged. This has significantly affected her everyday life and future imaginings. She expresses her struggles due to the lack of opportunities in the camp and wishes she could leave like her friends.

Acknowledging that we view life through our own cultural lens, it’s important to note that Naw Toh Poe’s depiction of the birds resembles that of the domestic chicken, a bird known for its inability to fly long distances. In 2007, research in another Karen camp found that participants described themselves as chickens, kept in a cage under the house, fenced in and fed by others (Brees, 2010). As a metaphor for a constrained existence, Naw Toh Poe’s illustration of domestic chickens in her drawing resonates with the sentiments expressed by other Karen refugees, emphasizing a shared perception of confinement and dependency, mirroring their cultural perspectives, daily challenges, and restrictions.

The drawing of the physical cage Naw Toh Poe’s bird is kept in further signifies cultural nuances. Woven into the social and cultural fabric of Karen everyday life, bamboo is used to make items such as houses, fences, baskets and, in this case, a chicken coop. The Karen even have a dance incorporating bamboo into the choreography, a dance central to Karen New Year celebrations. However, in Naw Toh Poe’s illustration, the bamboo cage becomes a symbolic encapsulation between a domestic and culturally significant product and an object of constraint imposed by external forces.

Shifting our attention from the caged bird, Naw Toh Poe expresses her future imaginings of freedom through her drawings of birds under the trees. Unlike the caged bird, these birds are surrounded by abundant nature and colour. She describes how she wants to leave the camp and live peacefully in a third country. When asked what the birds are talking about, Naw Toh Poe says:

“They're talking about their future. They're talking about their lives and what they are going to do. They're advising each other on how to improve their lives. They saw the bird in the cage without rights, so they talked about it. They learn from the caged bird's situation. They're sharing their views. They're talking about how lucky they are to be free”.

Drawings create abstract and creative thoughts depicting space and time. Space and time are intricately intertwined in Naw Toh Poe’s drawing and reflected in her discussion. Space is the dimension of multiplicity (Massey, 2013). It is represented in the relationship and conversation between the two free birds and their connection, yet distance, from the caged bird. The trees and nature suggest a beautiful expansiveness, evoking openness and unlimited possibilities, symbolizing a space of opportunities, abundance, and future imaginings.

In contrast, the caged bird occupies a limited imprisoned space that the other birds “learn from”. Reminded by Literat (2013) that drawings are not limited by form; thus, they are unbounded, Naw Toh Poe’s drawing and the caged bird metaphor have allowed her to represent the different relationships and spaces she occupies in a flexible and creative way. She can easily convey conceptual spaces, such as her emotions, memories, and psychological state. She can distort and exaggerate elements on the paper which she wants to discuss, guiding the interview and knowledge process.

Temporally, the participants’ drawings further capture moments of contemplation and anticipation for their future. In Naw Toh Poe’s case, the free birds discuss their future and advise each other on improving their lives. As the free birds learn from the caged bird’s situation, there is an interconnectedness between the past, present, and future. The birds outside the cage can move through space and time, whereas the caged bird is stuck and waits. I contend that her drawing also captures a specific moment in time. To avoid being essentialist and recognizing how identities and emotions shift, it is wise to remember that the participants may have drawn a different scene at a different moment; however, their drawings encompass what was important for them at that moment.

Naw Toh Poe makes sense of her realities with each mark on the paper. She chose to draw the flowers in bright colours and the fruit on the trees as hearts in contrast to the graphite pencil drawing of the caged bird. When asked why one of the trees is leaning, she draws from her culture and respect for her elders:

“This is an old tree getting close to falling. But before it falls, it still creates shade for others. In our lives, even when people are old, they can still be our shelter. Old leaders with lots of experience can still provide us with shade”.

This respect and homage to elder knowledge and protection are found in other youth creative media, such as music (Hill, 2021) and hta poetry (Cho, 2013), yet it was through drawing that Naw Toh Poe had the space to discuss her culture. She illustrates resilience and hope by stating that the encamped Karen, particularly the elders, have endured decades of “suffering” and “weathered many elements”, yet she still feels they are strong and protected by them. I argue that Naw Toh Poe’s drawing becomes not only a means to express her personal narrative but also a testament to her cultural heritage and elder wisdom in navigating the challenges and complexities of life in a refugee camp.

Conclusion

A few weeks after the initial interviews, participants were asked about their feelings regarding the drawing activity. Kyai stated that drawing was a way to escape:

“The picture I drew, I did it with full emotion. It represents how I and others feel in the camp. Drawing is fun. When I feel bad, I will draw, and it makes me feel better”.

Jhon Hser explained

“I drew what came into my mind. I drew it with feeling and what I have experienced. This is my vision for the future. Yes, I drew with all my heart”.

Naw Toh Poe stated:

“Drawing encouraged me to think more deeply about my life. It was a way to tell you how I feel from my heart. I can show you how I feel even though I am not good at drawing”.

I have argued that drawing is a powerful tool for exploring complex thoughts and emotions. Although the initial interview process was enlightening, the depth and exploration the participants could express through their drawings and the following participant analysis went beyond the interview. The power of meaning emerged from multiple sources. First, metaphors and symbolism in the drawings allowed participants to communicate deeper meanings that were either absent from their interviews or only briefly mentioned.

Second, drawing offered a poignant and nuanced narrative that unpacked the emotional and cultural landscapes of encamped Karen youths in protracted displacement. For example, Kyai’s depictions of serene landscapes and an idealized open space provided a glimpse into his desire for tranquillity and freedom amid the harsh realities of camp life. Naw Toh Poe’s drawing of the caged bird encapsulated her feelings of imprisonment, isolation, and a longing for freedom. Her crying bird and explanation of it illustrated how social media has expanded her world but deepened her sense of stuckness and confinement, illuminating the tension between virtual and physical mobility. Jhon Hser’s drawing, characterized by symbolic metaphors such as the journey over thorns and a severed foot’s tether, became a powerful medium illuminating the extreme struggles stateless individuals face. His artwork’s intricate layers of meaning revealed the challenges, restrictions, and sacrifices inherent in contemplating life beyond the camp.

Contemplating life beyond the camp for Kyai, Naw Toh Poe, and Jhon Hser became even more challenging in January 2025 with the new Trump administration and his onslaught of executive orders. With the new ‘stop-work’ policy (Bateman, 2025) and the suspension of the refugee resettlement program (International Rescue Committee, 2025), refugees along the Thai-Myanmar border have been directly affected by the pause in foreign aid and the hope for a better life in the US.

Thirdly, the drawings, I contend, were central to the process of reflection, exploring the past, present, and future imaginings. The process allowed them to piece together narratives of displacement, resilience, and hope. They told their stories through choice; choice of colour, composition, and scale. The drawings generated a rich discussion and bridged gaps in understanding. The drawings encouraged conversations about meaning, making abstract feelings and emotions more tangible.

Finally, I have argued that the insights gathered from these artistic expressions go beyond traditional data collection. Drawings amplify the participants’ voices and unpack the intricate complexities that shaped their everyday lives. The drawings served not only as illustrations but as dynamic narratives that contributed to a deeper understanding of displacement, stuckness and confinement, freedom and mundanity, resistance and resilience, and the collective aspirations for a better future among encamped Karen youths.