Reh Hte Ru

Reh Hte Ru grew up in a refugee camp on the Thai-Myanmar border. Though his parents came from Karenni and Knyaw backgrounds, he himself had never stepped foot into the home they spoke about. The refugee camp was the only world he knew. His father, a Karenni leader, worked with young adults and soldiers, teaching leadership and community responsibility. Reh remembers watching him teach, quietly observing the impact his father had on others. These early memories gave Reh a deep appreciation for service and taught him how leadership was rooted in compassion, patience, and the willingness to invest in others. His mother, who was Knyaw, worked as a nurse in a laboratory. From her, he learned the importance of care, discipline, and how to support a community from behind the scenes. 

Reh’s childhood was spent primarily outdoors. He remembers playing soccer, marbles, and games made from rubber bands and stacked cans. He hiked in the mountains, fished in rivers, and swam whenever he could, despite his mother’s nagging to stay him out of the water. If she noticed his eyes were red from swimming, she would know exactly where he had been. Although he did not have many material possessions, he remembers his childhood filled with imagination, friendship, and freedom within the walls of the refugee camp. Many of his happiest memories came from creating games with whatever resources were available and spending long days outside with his friends. 

Life inside the camp was restricted. Thai soldiers guarded the gates, and residents were not allowed to leave freely. Families relied on organizations such as the UN and IRC for food, clothing, and basic necessities. Homes were built from bamboo, with roofs woven from leaves. Wealth was measured differently there. Owning a television, bicycle, or video game system sets some families apart. Children would gather around the few households that had entertainment and pay a small fee to watch television or play games. Even with limited supplies and resources, neighbors shared what they had, which created a strong sense of community where people could depend on one another during both celebrations and hardships. 

When Reh’s family was approved for immigration to the United States, he felt both excitement and sadness. Like many others, his understanding of America came largely from Hollywood movies. He imagined hamburgers, big buildings, and endless possibilities. The reality was different. The airline food was bland, and although he enjoyed trying new things like orange juice and fresh fruit, adjusting to American food took time. It took him two years to finally enjoy pizza. Additionally, resettlement was not always smooth. During his first year, he was bullied by some students for not speaking English. Thankfully, he found friends who helped him practice the language, and over time he adapted to a new culture, new foods, and a new way of life. Looking back, Reh recognizes that those difficult early experiences gave him strength and taught him the value of kindness towards newcomers facing similar transitions.

Growing up with both Knyaw and Karenni heritage also shaped his experience. His mother identified as Knyaw but did not speak the language, and Reh sometimes felt caught between different identities, unsure of where he really belonged. As he grew older, that uncertainty gave way to confidence. He learned to embrace both sides of his heritage as part of who he is. What helped him find belonging was through his work as a photographer. 

Photography entered Reh’s life unexpectedly. During a cross-country road trip with friends, he took pictures of what he saw and who he was with. Having spent his childhood behind gates, he found joy in exploring new landscapes and capturing moments that might otherwise go unnoticed. Photography was also a way for him to slow down and appreciate ordinary moments that pass by too quickly in the grand scheme of life. If he could photograph one scene from his childhood, it would be a bamboo house set against the backdrop of the refugee camp, surrounded by objects that defined his youth. In the center would be a smiling kid holding a toy camera, representing the curiosity that shaped his childhood and the creative path he would later follow. 

Today, Reh works as a wedding photographer, a career that combines creativity with human connection. He enjoys documenting milestones and watching couples’ stories unfold from engagement to marriage. He has worked with all kinds of people, but his most common subjects are Knyaw couples, a reflection of his own cultural identity as Knyaw and Karenni. Through his lens, photography becomes more than documentation, it becomes a way of honoring his community and preserving moments that many of his elders and ancestors were never able to keep. For Knyaw and Karenni people, who have endured displacement and life in refugee camps, images of weddings carry weight; they are celebrations of resilience and belonging. Reh holds every picture he takes with a sense of meaning and care, aware that earlier generations did not have the chance to preserve intimate moments like marriage in a lasting visual form. In that awareness, each image becomes an act of remembrance, a way of keeping his culture alive through his work.