Aftershocks Across Oceans: The Hidden Toll of the Myanmar Earthquake on Diaspora Communities in Australia
- aalawebsite
- 11 hours ago
- 3 min read
By Ko Ko Aung
When a powerful earthquake struck northern Myanmar on 28 March, its epicentre may have been far away — but its emotional impact rippled right across to Australia. For those of us in the Myanmar diaspora, the devastation wasn’t only physical. It shook us at our core.
The 7.7 magnitude earthquake, followed by numerous aftershocks, hit an already vulnerable population. Sagaing and Magway — two regions at the heart of the disaster — have for years endured military violence, displacement, and political oppression since the 2021 coup. Details remain patchy, with information tightly controlled by the regime and telecommunications often cut off entirely.
Here in Australia, we’ve been left to piece together the aftermath through fractured updates, sporadic social media posts, and whispers from contacts on the ground. For many, there has been no word at all. In rural areas, electricity is unreliable. The internet is fragile. And the junta’s ongoing restrictions on communication have made even the simplest text message a lifeline that might never arrive.
I've spoken to people in Sydney, Brisbane, and Melbourne who are in anguish. Some have elderly parents they can’t reach. Others know their hometowns were near the quake’s epicentre but haven’t received any updates. The uncertainty is paralysing. Work is missed. Sleep is lost. Yet many keep their grief private — because in a hurting community, where does one find the space to speak?
This is the quiet aftermath — the grief that doesn’t make headlines. Our community is no stranger to hardship. Many of us came to Australia seeking safety from military persecution and violence. But this earthquake has reopened old wounds and reawakened buried fears. It reminds us how far we are from home — and how powerless we feel when home is in crisis.
Mental health support exists, but often only in name. The systems in place rarely understand the intersection of migration, trauma, and cultural nuance. University students might have counselling services, but getting timely, sensitive care is another story. Elderly community members, often isolated and still supporting families back in Myanmar, suffer in silence. And what about those between jobs, or waiting endlessly for family reunification — all while worrying their loved ones may not survive long enough to join them?
Even those of us who are now citizens or permanent residents, with a sense of security here in Australia, feel the ache. We cannot return. We cannot help. And we live with the guilt of having escaped while others remain trapped in a cycle of crisis.
People often assume we are safe, and therefore okay. But safety and peace are not the same thing.
Myanmar is in deep crisis. Since the 2021 coup, the military has waged war on its own people. Entire villages have been destroyed, children have been killed, and millions displaced. Humanitarian agencies are blocked from providing aid where it’s needed most. This earthquake is not just another disaster — it’s devastation layered atop systemic violence.
We’re not asking for pity. We’re asking to be seen. Diaspora pain doesn’t always look obvious, but it is real. And it needs attention.
So where do we go from here?
We need trauma-informed mental health services that reflect our lived experiences. We need more investment in community organisations already doing the hard work of providing care and cultural connection. And we need the Australian public — friends, neighbours, colleagues — to understand that for many of us, this isn’t a faraway crisis. It’s personal.
We’re grateful for the ongoing support — the fundraisers, the solidarity, the awareness. But we also need you to know: some of us here are quietly breaking. And sometimes, all it takes to tip us over is one unanswered call from home.
This earthquake may not have shaken the ground beneath our feet in Australia, but it has rattled the emotional foundations of our lives. Grief travels. It crosses oceans. And it deserves to be acknowledged.
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