Mu Ku Shi

When Mu Ku Shi thinks about his childhood, he remembers marbles. He remembers playing with his friends, jumping rubber bands, and spending time outside until sundown. “All you know is play as a kid,” he says. At the time, life felt easy. He did not have the words to understand the circumstances surrounding him, he was simply a kid growing up alongside other kids, finding ways to play and have fun. 

Mu Ku was born in Meh Tah Kee, Thailand. A few years later, his family moved to Mae La Oo Refugee Camp, one of the largest refugee camps in Thailand, where he spent the majority of his childhood. The camp was crowded, with houses built close together, but he does not remember it feeling that way. “You don’t feel claustrophobic,” he says. “At the time, it felt very spacious.” 

Life in the camp was structured around community and survival. In the mornings, families would wake up, feed their animals, cook, and tend to the garden they used to feed their family or exchange their harvest with other families. People gathered at church to sing and pray together. Children would go to school, play with their friends in the fields, and eventually go home when parents called. For Mu Ku, some of his happiest memories were in the mundane. But childhood in the camp was also shaped by rules, uncertainty, and discipline since families could not freely leave. Some people, such as Mu Ku’s father, would sneak through the gates to find work, sometimes leaving for months before returning with crops or livestock for the family, a sacrifice that meant providing for them but also missing birthdays and holidays.

Mu Ku also remembers the strict discipline he experienced at home. His mother believed that getting into trouble deserved punishment. One memory began with a marble. During a food drive, his family received fresh bamboo to which they stacked underneath their home. One day, one of his marbles rolled into the pile and disappeared between the stalks. He got down on his hands and knees and crawled in after it, squeezing through the narrow gaps, but when he turned to make his way back out, he found himself wedged in place, unable to move. He called out, and his mother eventually pulled him out by his legs, dragging him back into the light. Instead of being comforted after the frightening experience, he was disciplined for getting himself into trouble. 

School was another place where discipline was present. He remembers that going to school was not something he enjoyed, especially when it came to big exams. Getting an answer wrong could mean being hit by the teacher. Looking back, these experiences are part of the complicated picture he has of his childhood: moments of fear and hardship but also moments of joy and innocence.

In 2010, Mu Ku’s family left the refugee camp and began the journey to the United States. Surprisingly, he did not feel particularly sad or excited about leaving. During the flight, he remembers watching Diary of a Wimpy Kid. The significance of this journey did not fully register for him until much later. Once he arrived in America, he resettled in Texas, where everything moved quickly. It was “go go go.” He was constantly moving, learning, and trying to adapt to a completely different environment. He lived next door to a Burmese family but did not know how to communicate with them. At school, he was learning English while also learning Burmese because of the people around him. Eventually, his family moved to Minnesota where he began adjusting more quickly because there was a larger Karen community. For the first time, pieces of his culture were becoming familiar in a new environment. 

Still, it took time for Mu Ku to understand what leaving home truly meant. When he finally had a moment to slow down and process his journey across the globe, he was confused. He recalls crying and wondering why he was in America if there was nothing there for him. Mu ku sought to answer this question through art. 

As a child, Mu Ku wanted to become an artist. He watched his friends create art and sometimes felt discouraged because he thought they were much better than him. But instead of giving up, he kept practicing. When he attended a creative school in Minnesota, his dedication to his craft began to pay off. He was recognized as one of the better artists in his school and was nominated for awards. For Mu Ku, that recognition gave him the confidence to further pursue art. He began experimenting with different forms of creativity: painting, singing, photography, and eventually tattooing. “Art to me is to be expressive, to create, to establish something,” he says. 

As he grew older, he started seeing his own culture differently. He noticed similarities between Karen textiles and patterns to other cultures. His understanding of art became connected to his understanding of identity. “As a child, we see red, and that’s it. As adults we see there are different shades to red and many complex names for them.” Growing up meant seeing more complexity in the world. He reflects, “life becomes less about what you see on the surface and more about what’s underneath.” He applies this philosophy to his craft: tattooing.

Mu ku picked up tattooing in college and eventually turned it into a business once he realized its value. His parents, of course, were not happy with the decision. As conservative Christians, they did not understand or support tattooing as a career. Pursuing art and building a tattoo business made Mu Ku the “black sheep” of his family. Despite this, Mu Ku believes that if something seems impossible, that does not mean it cannot be done. For him, experience has been his greatest teacher. Running a business has taught him about financial responsibility, risk, trial and error, and the importance of continuing to improve his craft. “Your craft is your resume,” he says. His business gives him financial support and freedom, but more importantly, it allows him to do something he loves. 

His work is also connected to something bigger than himself. Mu Ku wants to help change the narrative surrounding Karen people. He does not want them to be seen only as people struggling because of war or displacement. “Be proud of who you are as Karen,” he says. He wants others to recognize that Karen people are equally capable of creating, succeeding, and building their own futures. For Mu Ku, his journey is still unfolding. His goal is not only to build a successful tattoo business, but also to create opportunities for himself and others. He wants to keep making art, keep learning, and keep teaching others what he has learned. In doing so, he hopes to show that a person can come from struggle without being defined by it.