I used to be proud of being a Bamar, or Burman. In the early days of my life, I was overwhelmed with pride for our rich culture, civilization and centuries-long history. We Bamar are a people who founded three great empires and produced warrior kings who were feared by our neighbors. In the view of the average Bamar, we are superior to any ethnic group politically, economically or culturally, and other minority groups have always looked up to us with fear and envy. But once I began to explore beyond my childhood knowledge, I had to unlearn much of it. At that point, the pride I had always taken in my Burman-ness began to disintegrate, replaced by guilt and shame. I feel guilty and ashamed of my race because of its centuries-long oppression of Myanmar’s myriad ethnic minorities. Even though I am not directly liable for the wrongdoings of my fellow Bamar past and present, I feel I have a share in that responsibility. And the thought that justice for those transgressions has