Vitriolic comments posted online under news stories about an act of bigotry toward Burmese refugees repeated a common refrain: “Send ’em back.”

The irony, say some local Burmese who have read the comments, is that for so long they’ve wanted to return to Burma but can’t.

Refugees here were forced out of Burma – or Myanmar as the country is called by its ruling military junta – by political or religious persecution. And for years, injustices in the Southeast Asian country have been the focus of refugee activists here.

What a recent discriminatory act has done, at least for two of the local activists who called for action, is serve as a wake-up call that they should redirect some of their energy to improving the lives of Burmese in the U.S.

Complicating that goal is diversity within the local Burmese community – a population that includes Buddhists, Christians and Muslims of various sects, speaks more than 165 dialects and ranges from middle- to upper-class professionals to illiterate farmers.

’88 generation

This month, a sign was put up at Ricker’s City Laundry at Calhoun Street and Rudisill Boulevard that read, “For Sanitary Purposes, There Are No Burmese People Allowed.”

The sign was quickly removed, and the owner apologized in a video posted on YouTube.

The incident has been hashed and rehashed in media, and it put several longtime Burmese residents in the spotlight when they called for local government officials to denounce discrimination against them.

Self-employed businessman Maung Maung Soe, 47, took center stage at a protest outside the Allen County Courthouse on March 14 and during a meeting with Mayor Tom Henry a week later.

Soe, who had been a middle school math teacher in Burma, has lived in the area for more than a decade.

He’s organized events commemorating Burma’s long struggle for freedom and traveled to Washington, D.C., to advocate for the rights of Burma’s many oppressed people.

He’s used to the spotlight, but his efforts in the past have been focused outside the country, not in his own backyard.

Over coffee with friend Soe Aung, Maung Maung Soe recalls past efforts to unify the local Burmese community.

The Burmese refugees who came to Fort Wayne beginning in the early 1990s were largely members of the educated middle and upper classes, and many had participated in a 1988 pro-democracy uprising.

Unlike the student protesters who have lived in the U.S. for years, the recent refugees are largely uneducated or illiterate in their own languages. Many have lived in refugee camps and raised their children there, Aung said.

Soe and Aung, 42, are members of the “ ’88 generation” movement, and that’s why they had to leave their homeland, they said.

The tradition of activism in the ’88 generation is strong, and Soe and Aung have both tried to organize local Burmese advocacy groups in the past, beginning in the mid-1990s and as recently as 2005, they said.

The groups never got off the ground – in part because of a lack of financial support, but also because the local Burmese community was smaller.

Now, the numbers have grown, but greater diversity among the refugees makes unified efforts more difficult.

Despite earlier failure, they are trying again, informally calling themselves the Burmese American Society. A meeting this week drew about 25 people, they said.

The discrimination shown in the local sign didn’t differentiate between refugee groups, and Soe and Aung say that’s enough to make them feel comfortable speaking for the community as a whole.

“There needs to be a voice,” Aung said. “Not just focusing on (recent) refugees, focusing on the entire community.”

The name, Burmese American Society, is meant in part to show the community how much the refugees appreciate the material and emotional support they have received from Fort Wayne residents.

“We do need their continued support,” Aung said. “We are trying to fit into this new community. We don’t want to be seen as separated.”

‘Vast, huge gap’

In a long basement room with a low ceiling, a teacher writes out basic English phrases, and a class of about four dozen adults dutifully repeats them.

“I am short.”

“I am tall.”

Minn Myint Nan Tin, executive director of the Burmese Advocacy Center on South Calhoun Street, is tired of talking about the recent controversy. She’d rather let scenes like this afternoon’s English class do the talking for her.

“Our actions show stronger than words,” she said.

In other basement rooms, sewing machines hum and computer keyboards click as the refugees are taught basic job skills.

The Burmese Advocacy Center had nearly 11,000 visits last year from refugees seeking health care or employment help, English classes or legal services, interpretation or other assistance.

The Burmese Advocacy Center issued a statement offering help to people and businesses wanting to learn more about the Burmese or communicating with them after the laundry incident.

Its statement made clear that it seeks to act as a liaison between Burmese and the broader Fort Wayne community but that it does not speak for all Burmese people.

Nan Tin feels strongly about that. She’s reluctant to call herself a leader, and she sees herself as more servant than spokeswoman.

That’s in large part because the center is so busy helping refugees stay fed and clothed, there is no time for political activism, she said.

Dr. Khin Mar Oo, another member of the ’88 generation, said the new wave of refugees is much different and has greater needs than past refugees, she said.

“This is just like bringing up a child in this world,” she said. “That’s a vast, huge gap here.”

Oo doesn’t believe all local members of the ’88 generation have been silent in helping incoming refugees.

The obvious example is herself; she helped form the Burmese Advocacy Center in 2008 and is president of its board.

And she and Nan Tin don’t believe there has been a lack of leadership within the local Burmese community, although they say they are looking forward to working with Maung Maung Soe and others who have stepped forward recently.

Nan Tin relates the story of one Burmese Advocacy Center employee who used to get furniture from trash bins to outfit entire apartments and then hold English classes in them, without any formal structure.

“That is how people define leaders,” she said. “You are there for people.”

In the office next to hers, employment coordinator Ye Win Latt, whose father was part of the ’88 generation, said any leadership that comes forward in the Burmese community is likely to be a positive addition.

He’s pleased to see other members of the ’88 generation stepping into that gap. Latt believes being Burmese refugees – whatever that might mean on an individual basis – is enough of a common bond.

“Burmese are used to diversity,” he said. “We have enough in common.”

aturner@jg.net