In the 1920s and 1930s, the capital of Western Armenian intellectual life shifted from Constantinople to Paris. During the Ottoman period of social reform in the mid-nineteenth century, it was common for affluent Armenian families to send their sons—and, in very few cases, their daughters—to Paris to finish their schooling. These young Armenians would generally return to the Ottoman Empire after graduating with the hope of applying their knowledge and skills to help improve the social and political situation of their community; nevertheless, by the turn of the century, a small, yet influential group of around 3,000 Armenians had settled in Paris. These Armenians were often writers and activists who, threatened by Sultan Abdul Hamid II’s increasingly authoritarian rule, chose to seek refuge abroad where they could express themselves more freely without fear of imprisonment or aggressive surveillance.

A portrait of Archag Tchobanian, via AGBU

Of the small community of Armenians in fin-de-siècle Paris, one of the most notable and well-respected members was Archag Tchobanian. Born in Constantinople in 1872, Tchobanian attended the Guetronagan School—known for producing some of the finest Armenian literary minds—and began writing and translating from Armenian to French at an early age. At twenty-three, he founded the literary journal “Dzaghig” (“Flower” in Armenian) and, soon after, left Constantinople for Paris where he established himself as key figure in French-Armenian intellectual life for over a quarter of a century.

Celebrated as the ambassador of Armenian letters in France, this poet, writer, translator and editor earned the respect not only of his fellow Armenians, but also of some of the most prominent French writers and politicians of the time. Through his relationship with people like Anatole France and Georges Clémenceau, Tchobanian raised awareness about the plight of the Armenian people in the Ottoman Empire and garnered support among the French public for their cause.

Tchobanian was however very mindful of the danger of portraying Armenians merely as a victimized people and challenged this image by showcasing examples of their literary and cultural heritage to a largely unfamiliar French public; he regularly published translations of Armenian folktales in the French literary journals, organized cultural events—memorably inviting Gomidas to perform in Paris in 1906—and hosting conferences and lectures on Armenian history and literature.

The French-Armenian community of the time was also greatly indebted to Tchobanian’s efforts to resist acculturation by fostering Armenian literary production in the diaspora. His most enduring contribution to this effort was the creation of the literary, artistic and scientific journal, “Anahid,” in 1898.

Tchobanian's Armenian literary journal, "Anahid" at the Zohrab Center in New York City/ by Jennifer Manoukian

With this journal, Tchobanian sought to instill in Armenians admiration for their own cultural achievements and continue the literary and intellectual legacy of the previous generations in the diaspora. He understood “Anahid” as a means through which to conserve, perpetuate and reconstruct Armenian identity in exile, especially with the expansion of the community in the 1920s.

Each issue of the journal was composed of poetry, prose, translations, literary criticism and an eclectic mix of articles on topics ranging from architecture to music. Although poems by well-respected figures like Siamanto or Taniel Varoujan were published in Anahid, Tchobanian actively sought out and published works by emerging writers as well; some of these young minds, like Zabel Yessayan and Zareh Vorpouni, would later become leading figures in Armenian literature.

Despite an  18 year interruption from 1911 to 1929 and a brief hiatus during the Nazi occupation of Paris in the 1940s, Anahid provided an outlet for the artistic expression of a diasporan people for 33 years, in a way unrivaled by any other publication. The last issue of Anahid was published in 1949 and was soon followed by the death of its devoted editor in 1954.

The work of artist Arkadi "Arko" Baghdasaryan adorns the walls of his daughter's studio/ by Victoria Rovira Infante

It’s just after noon on a cloudy but bright December day, and the cold, grey-white sunshine pours through large windows overlooking a cluster of apartment buildings neighboring Yerevan’s Matenadaran ancient manuscript repository. Vivid, abstract paintings and three-dimensional creations adorn the high walls of this room and the dark wooden hallway I passed through to reach the fifth-floor home and art studio of Armina Baghdasaryan.

While the only thing keeping the inside temperature from matching that of the outside air is a small furnace near the door, the space reverberates with life as Baghdasaryan cheerfully rushes around serving tea and cookies; distributing aprons, tools, and lumps of clay; alternating between Armenian, French, and English as she encourages her young students – already busy rolling, pounding, cutting, and shaping.

Baghdasaryan is the daughter of Arkadi “Arko” Baghdasaryan, one of Armenia’s first and most respected modern artists. In fact, the amazing works that adorn nearly every square inch of wall space – and a significant amount of floor and desk space – are his. Growing up, Baghdasaryan was immersed in art and music. Her dissident father, whose non-traditional artwork was considered nonsense to the Soviet way of thinking, listened to the barely-audible “Voice of America” radio program in secret, exposing his family to the English language and American music, including Baghdasaryan’s favorites, Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald.

Armina Baghdasaryan is bridging culture through the art of ceramics/ courtesy A. Badghdasaryan

In 1997, during her last year as a student, she went to Paris with her father to set up an exhibit for his work. They stayed in a historic artists’ residence, and she learned French during her time there, particularly through cinema and theater. It was there that she developed a fascination for linguistics, and when she returned to Armenia, she started a foundation for Joie de Lire (Joy of Reading), a library of French-published children’s books.

But after a few years  she returned to France to study sculpture,  surprising her family in the process. While taking ceramics classes, she stumbled upon a new idea:  she could teach language and pottery simultaneously – children could learn the French language through art.

After studying for a few years in Warsaw after France, she came home to Armenia and worked at the Armenian Center for Contemporary Experimental Art (also known by its Armenian acronym, NPAK) from 2008 to 2010 on new techniques for teaching French through author projects, games, modeling clay, and even kamishibai, a 12th-century Japanese method of illustration-based storytelling.

Now Baghdasaryan is married with three creative daughters of her own: Dana, 14, an art student studying painting; Sophia, 11, a ballerina and hopeful choreographer; and 9-year-old Mariam, who is sitting at the table, skillfully forming adorable clay hedgehogs during my visit.

Mariam & Ruben converse over clay/ by Victoria Rovira Infante

Seated nearby are Maria, 8,  painting a teacup she made last week; Sarkis, 6, decorating a tiny clay Christmas tree; Ruben, an impressively independent 10-year-old who speaks Armenian, Russian, Hebrew and French; and a few other aspiring young potters.

Every weekend, these kids are here, getting their hands dirty and sculpting to their hearts’ content under the supervision of their enthusiastic instructor, who sees symbolic meaning in their work.

“The thing that I like [about] working with kids is that they have a very rich vision, they like to improvise and I am able to understand and help them to receive what they want, ” Baghdasaryan says.  She sings “Frère Jaques” and “Allouette,” and helps 4-year-old Nathan count how many little feet he should make for his clay cat, “Un, deux, trios, quatre!”

Nathan pounds away at clay at Baghdasaryan's studio/ by Victoria Rovira Infante

6 year-old Sabina. When I asked her what she was making, she smiled and replied, "I don't know!"/by Victoria Rovira Infante

Suddenly, in this definitive moment, I realize the incredible goal Baghdasaryan is achieving: by devoting her abundant energy to her three passions – language, art and children – she is building a bridge. It is one many have tried to build before, though not all who have attempted to do so have been successful. Hers is a beautifully subtle, yet solid, communicative link between cultures and generations, one that will last for years to come.

A first-generation Filipino American, Victoria Rovira Infante was born and raised in the Washington, D.C. area and has also lived extensively in Florida and California. She earned her B.A. in English and a minor degree in Environmental Science from the University of South Florida in 2005. In 2008, she and her husband moved to Yerevan, Armenia to teach full time at an international school, where their young son is also a student. She enjoys discovering the past (and therefore, the present and future) through both travel and the multi-faceted, ever-evolving written word.

Hoping to break down cultural barriers, Cetinbostanoglu concentrated on documenting these various cultures for the last four decades, using photography as his tool to educate and expose Turkey to its cultural treasures.

“I shared both their happiness and sadness,” he writes on his website. “They looked at me laughing, smiling, worried and crying…I made many friends. How lucky I am, am I not?”

After exhibitions all over Turkey and in Italy, Germany and Yugoslavia as well as awards, Cetinbostanoglu spoke to ianyanmag about the art of photography, how he’s formed relationships with his subjects, how he’d like to travel to Armenia and what it felt like to photograph the last Christian Armenian village in Turkey.

An Alevi family in Turkey. This cultural and religious community numbers up to 15 million/ © Aydin Cetinbostanoglu

Q. What inspired you to become a photographer?

A. When I was young, because of  economic reasons, I had to learn a job and earn money. In 1960′s the only way to learn a job was working with a master. I had to choose this path. So, to become a photographer was more of a necessity. In 1966-1967, I spent my summer holidays working in a photography studio. In 1970 I took my first photograph with the camera which I borrowed from a friend. I was able to earn money by selling out to photos which I was took. Besides earning money, I started taking pictures by myself and showed them to my art teacher. He asked me why I was not opening my own photography exhibition and he sent me to a friend who manages a library. And I opened my first exhibition while I was a high school student in 1973.

Q. You have taken a great amount of photos and concentrated on minority cultures and ethnic groups in Turkey like the Alevis and Gypsies that are generally not photographed or talked about in the press a great deal. What is your interest in documenting these sub-groups and why do you think it’s important to do so?

A. After graduating from high school in 1973, I traveled around Anatolia with money I had saved. This was the first encounter with the people of Anatolia, and culture. I opened a photo exhibition with my first travel photographs when I returned. I studied political sciences at Ankara University Faculty of Political Science between1974 and1978. Both my earliest training as well as the turbulent era of economic and social events influenced the way in which we see the today’s photos.

I have witnessed many historical events during this period, and photographed them. In the Labor Day celebration in May 1977 while taking pictures, 37 people were killed. I saw and experienced their pain.

I continued to travel and photograph Anatolia. I shared people lives many times. I accepted the colors of different cultural traditions of the riches of Anatolia. These colors are to be photographed and documented.

A line of Gypsy girls in Turkey/ © Aydin Cetinbostanoglu

Some of the estimated 40,0000 marchers who honored slain Turkish-Armenian journalist Hrant Dink last month/ © Aydin Cetinbostanoglu

Q. A big segment of your photography also has been documenting Armenians who live in Turkey. Why did you choose to do this and what have you learned from it?

A. There are Alevis, Gypsies, and Arabs in my photo works as well as Armenians. In fact,  I have been photographing Gypsies since 1999, and the project is still ongoing. The difference in working with Armenians is that they have a richer cultural experience than some societies. We follow these “Masters of the Grand Bazaar” as well as in the church ceremonies and rituals. I began to work with Masters of the Grand Bazaar in 2006, establishing friendships over time which still exist.
I photographed a church wedding ceremony in 2010. I had forgotten my flash after the ceremony. When I came home I realized it and the day after I went to church again, people from the church gave it to me. I was affected by this honest behavior.
In the priest consecration ceremony which I photographed the pastor asked to the congregation about the candidate whether it is an obstacle. If a person says a negative response about the candidate, the ceremony would be cancelled. Everyone gave their positive thoughts, and the ceremony is completed. Even though this behavior is also a participatory ritual of the church, I was interested because it shows the structure.
These similar observations are in my projects about  Armenians and carry it to the future.

An Armenian baptism ceremony in Turkey/ © Aydin Cetinbostanoglu

Q. What are your thoughts about the Turkish Armenian community?

I certainly learned a lot from this culture during my work. Friendships are valuable for them.

I participated in Armenian Easter ceremonies in 2011 with my wife. We brought a bottle of liquor and parsley patterned Easter eggs painted with onion skins. After the ceremony, we put our eggs and liquor on the table. Some members of the community told us not to break our eggs. Instead, they took them to take home to keep. This behavior undoubtedly lies in the basis of respect for labor.

Q. Many of the minorities you have documented are fighting for equal rights in Turkey. From your interactions with them, what have you learned about their struggles and what do you think is the best solution to solve this problem?

A. The struggle for democracy is a necessity for everyone, and should be given to everybody. If this is provided it is possible to express themselves and protect their cultures.

Q. In your travels, you visited the last Christian Armenian village in Turkey, Vakifli. What was it like to be there?

A. Avedis is the oldest man of Vakıflı village who is also a friend of mine and he is the father of Artin. During Astvadzazin festival in 2009 I was the guest of that family. Avedis is a living history. He told me about history of the village and took me to the past. He had relatives living abroad. All of us created a large group and participated to the festival.
Vakifli is the only Armenian village in Antakya city located in South Turkey. Every year in mid August thousands of Armenians meet there and celebrate their religious holiday called Aztvadzadzin. On the first day, the priest of the church blesses the “salt” as a first step of the celebrations. Village women and men begin to prepare the traditional food “Harisa” (Largely used as “keskek” in Anatolia). Meats boil in seven large cauldrons during the night till morning. Seven symbolizeseven villages living in the past on the “Muse Mountain.”

During the night people dance and have fun with traditional music and Armenian songs. On the second day, the priest blesses the grapes and organizes a religious ceremony in the garden of the church. After the ceremony,  he blesses the “Harisa” before distributing to the people. Then village people share the food.

A scene from a celebration in Vakifli, Turkey's last Armenian village/ © Aydin Cetinbostanoglu

Avedis’ uncle told me that a big part of Armenians living there left the villages and went to Lebanon after the French withdrawal. A sad story. If the people in the seven villages could be alive, that area would be richer. Today they are busy with organic agriculture and provide higher value-added agricultural products to the market. At the festival time population was around 2500-3000 people with guests, after the festival the village population is around 100.

Q. How do you establish a relationship with the people who you are photographing? Is it difficult? Are they accepting you to photograph them or do they need to be convinced? How do you approach them?

A. One of the founder of Magnum Agency, Robert Capa has a nice saying: “Your photo is not close enough to the subject if it is not nice,” he says. This means “Be a part of the subject.”  I also use this philosophy for myself. I take photographs with people and cultures of Anatolia for a long time. Because of this I can work with them more easily and have  nice relationships with them today. I share life with them  and over time, the photo subjects come to me.

Two Alevi women in Turkey/ © Aydin Cetinbostanoglu

Q.  What subjects or people have you not photographed yet that you would like to, and why?

First of all I’d like to visit Armenia and take photographs. The most important reason is to combine them with my works and create a whole Armenian work. Another option would be India which is a big country where many cultures live together. I would like to walk around extended periods of time and do a colorful study. Because of the ancient cultures of Mexico, Egypt and the Far East are some of my future projects.

Q. What do you hope people take away from your photography?

A. I wish people who follow my work could think a little more about these cultures and appreciate them.

Aydin Cetinbostanoglu Photography on Facebook and Twitter

The recent passage of the French bill criminalizing genocide denial in France has caused massive rejoicing across the Armenian nation both at home and abroad.   While the emotional reaction of Armenian communities is understandable given Turkey’s continued state-sponsored decades long revisionist policies, sadly, there is nothing tangible here to rejoice.   If anything, the Armenian Nation has yet again become a thankful tool of foreign powers, and while there is an abundance of appreciation towards Sarkozy and France, what exactly do we have to be thankful for?

The law itself is fundamentally flawed insofar as it aims to undermine a most basic tenet of democracy, will likely hamper the issue of Genocide recognition as opposed to facilitating it, and is merely being employed by France to address its own narrow self-serving political ends.    On its face, the purpose of the proposed law is to deter and punish those who deny the historical fact of genocides, including the Armenian genocide, and in doing so defend the moral interests and honor of the victims.  Sarkozy stated something similar to the latter in his January 20th letter to Erdogan, writing that the intent of the bill is to heal wounds and protect the memories of victims.  In short, the law, as its proponents would argue, helps restore “justice.”

But how, exactly, does it do that?

Armenians gather at the French Embassy in Yerevan in appreciation of France's Armenian Genocide bill/ by Tigran Mehrabyan/ © PanARMENIAN

If anything, France’s passage of the genocide denial bill is nothing more than a resounding endorsement of Turkey’s own notorious Penal Code 301.  Similar to that code, the French law paints in broad brush strokes and does little to distinguish between a form of denial that has an element of hate speech (which is the intended purpose of EU framework decision 2008/913/JHA), and language that is purely denial without the added quality of hateful or racist sentiments.

Over the past couple of decades there have been an increasing number of meetings and conferences between Armenian and Turkish academics and members of civil society seeking to openly discuss their mutual past.  Numerous Turkish scholars now openly accept that massive “atrocities” took place in the waning days of the Ottoman Empire, with a growing number of Turkish intellectuals calling it genocide.  Though in its infancy, a movement is now noticeable within Turkey itself towards eventual recognition and reconciliation; this is occurring within a larger democratic movement within the country.  Laws dictating what can and cannot be said stifle and run contrary to the basic principles of open forum and thought, and can arguably erode the progress made by Turkish civil society as a whole by causing each side to hold on more tightly to its “truth.” Such a bill has the potential to make denial itself a patriotic, nationalistic act, moving us further away from the discourse which has slowly but surely blossomed.

Sarkozy and France have their own political and socio-economic reasons for passing this bill at this time.  Moreover, France’s seemingly gracious and honorable bill will now be used as political clout for years to come when Armenian issues are raised.   The favor, as it were, has been called in; France is now considered the great friend of Armenians.  It will be harder now than ever to push France in its myriad of councils and unions – from PACE to the EU to the UN which make decisions regarding the Republic of Armenia – to help promote democracy and justice within Armenia, because, well, the favor has already been called in.

But it is these issues – democracy and justice – which are most important to both the Republic of Armenia and the Armenian nation today.   What is the effect of such a bill in France, or say even all of the countries of the world, if Armenia is neither safe nor secure?  One of the greatest problems facing Armenia’s viability today is the massive emigration it is experiencing due to a myriad of reasons, including political, economic, and social inequalities and upheavals.  Of course, France is entirely silent on those issues. Thus, France’s genocide denial bill is nothing more than crumbs thrown to a struggling people.  We must stop feeding off such crumbs, and demand our rightful place at the table.

In the end, nothing can bring back the 1.5 million souls that were lost during the Armenian Genocide.  What then, does healing entail?  Recognition by Turkey, and the world?  What would best allow us to honor and memorialize the victims of the Genocide?  First, various organizations and countries must stop using these crimes of humanity as mere chess pieces in their own political and economic games.  Second, to bring about a world where such atrocities cannot and do not take place, a more ethical, open and responsible world.  And finally, to have, in spite of our history and all which comes with it, a free, strong and independent Armenia.

Yet nothing close to any of these will result from the French bill. Instead, those who question and challenge aloud will be deemed criminals.  As much as this pains those of us who are descendants of the victims of 1915, we must be able to look beyond that pain and seek justice not by imposing restrictions similar to those forced upon our ancestors 97 years ago, but by making sure such restrictions are never again imposed on others, Turks or otherwise.

Edgar Martirosyan is a practicing Attorney in Los Angeles, California.  Edgar received his B.A. in Political Science from UCLA, and his Juris Doctor degree from UCLA School of Law.  He is a Fellow with Policy Forum Armenia, and a member of the Board of Directors of ARPA Institute.

Lorky Libaridian is a practicing Physician in San Francisco, California. Lorky received her B.A. at Yale College, majoring in Evolutionary Biology and Behavior, and her M.D. at Yale University School of Medicine.   She has worked with various healthcare institutions in Armenia for almost two decades.

A still from the film 'Grandma's Tattoos,' which chronicles the fate of thousands of tattooed Armenian women who survived the Armenian Genocide of the early 20th century/ © Grandma's Tattoos

Ever since filmmaker Suzanne Khardalian’s documentary, “Grandma’s Tattoos,” was screened across the U.S. and broadcast on Al Jazeera’s English channel, the response has been overwhelming.

“I’ve been getting hundreds and hundreds of emails and letters,” says Khardalian, who directed and produced the film that chronicles the forgotten story of the fate of women – including that of her own grandmother – who survived the Armenian Genocide.

The letters, some from South Africa, others from India and just about every other country you can think of, relay appreciation and at times shock about the physical, emotional and psychological scars of Armenian women who were distinguishably tattooed, raped and sometimes forced into prostitution at the beginning of the 20th century.
Now living in Sweden and with more than 20 films under her belt, Khardalian spoke to ianyanmag about the sometimes difficult process of talking to genocide survivors, how easily women’s narratives get lost in the vaults of history and how Armenian women today need a big dose of courage.

Q. Why did you decide to make this film?

A. Genocide has been on my agenda for a very long time.  What I wanted to do was do something about the genocide in Rwanda, especially tackling the question of gender and genocide – a topic we’ve only begun to start talking about. Usually, the fate of women is not discussed.  I met some of these Rwandan women in Stockholm at a conference; these were the women who had been undergoing the horrors of the war and the main problematic issue was of course rape, and rape en masse, in hundreds of thousands, having rape as a strategy you use during genocide to complete it. Of course I was thinking about the Armenian Genocide in the back of mind and suddenly I came to realize that when it comes to the Armenian Genocide or to the Holocaust, there’s so little written about the women.

The amazing thing is when you look at the Armenian case, there’s a huge amount of literature on this and all you read is “and the women were raped,” these very very short sentences…but no details, there’s no story about it. Give me an example. Do you happen to know the name of an Armenian woman who was the hero of the genocide? Fighting that and trying to survive? You don’t have that, and it was very discouraging and I was fascinated by that. Once I stumbled upon those photos, the whole thing took on a very different aspect, the story became very very personal, because suddenly I found out my own grandma was a victim, she was there all the time and we had no idea about it.

I’m not a feminist, but let me say but it is very very strange to see how even in tragedy the destiny of women is somehow by selection taken away or forgotten, or  amnesia is organized around it so people will forget.

Q. Often in Armenian history and sometimes literature, Armenian women’s narratives get lost, do you think your film has filled one part of the story, either as a whole or for your family? Do you still have more questions?

A. Oh yes. Look there’s so many questions that very few have been answered. I still feel that my mom is not willing to continue because well look this is something that is associated with shame and feelings of guilt – where in a strange way you are the victim of an atrocity but at the same time you feel you’re responsible for that atrocity. I have been talking to victims of rape, when you talk to these women, very strangely they say the same thing. They’re ashamed, they think they’re responsible for it Everybody thinks that the way to deal with it is just to forget it. If you forget it it will go away,  and of course it doesn’t go away.

So there’s lot to discover, the film is only a fraction of what I have been doing. A film is a film, and you have to limit lots of stories. There’s fascinating things to tell, I hope one day I can make a second film on this, there’s a lot to do.

Q. When you went to Yerevan to meet the 104-year-old Genocide survivor – for me that was the most emotional part of the movie, because unlike your great aunt, she was very honest and raw. How did you feel in that setting?

A. I’ve been working with genocide survivors for such a long time now, so I had been working with these old people all the time, they are all very, very sweet and it’s amazing to see how until the end of their lives that these people remember things, especially in their childhoods, there are certain details. I remember one survivor I was filming in France, he had one fantastic segment of a memory. He said, ‘I remember the feeling of my mom’s blouse, that silk feeling on my face when she used to carry me,’ and that feeling, and I could feel it my self, it’s very very small detail, it is about your mom and what ‘mom’ is to you today, and just that feeling on your face about a piece of silk. It’s very abstract and it’s very human.

When I came to Maria Vartanyan in Yerevan, she was sweet – what is fascinating with Maria is that she is so lucid she remembers quite a lot, and one more thing that was different, when I wanted to talk to her, I told her from the beginning, I want you to tell me the story of women, tell me what happened to the women. Do you have any stories like that? And she said, ‘Come back to me the next day.’  She had a whole laundry list of stories, about women she knew and what happened to them and how they survived the genocide. When you look at the interview, it is the first time I’m discussing a subject about sex or slavery with a woman who is 104 years old. I was sitting there and she was telling me for example, how her menstruation stopped and she was praying to god that she would never get pregnant. Details like that. She was telling me that the Armenian men became infertile, they had no sexual potency left. The men too lose their sexual appetite. The men weren’t able to give children as well. She was referring to this when she came to Armenia,  especially from Turkey to Soviet Armenia.

Documentary filmmakers Suzanne Khardalian and Pea Holmquist at work on Grandma's Tattoos/ © Suzanne Khardalian

Q. What happened when  people were reluctant to speak with you about these topics?

A. I remember one case when I was filming in Fresno. I had met this lady, she had a tattooed mother, but she had decided for herself that her mom was not tattooed, people around her, they knew she had been, but she had decided her mom was not tattooed, so it was like talking to a wall, there was no where to go. It as the same with Lucia [Khardalian's great aunt], you talk and there’s a certain barrier when it all stops. Working with survivors needs a technique, I’ve written a book on this, how to film genocide survivors, it takes time to build trust.

A major problem has been the family of survivors -  they’re not willing to bring the issue forward. I didn’t fight against this in this film, it shows it’s symptomatic of the situation we’re in, as a community, as Armenians, it’s a taboo, you don’t want to talk about it, I wanted to show that people are not willing to talk about this. But yet I think we have to talk about it. I’m interested in the process of making this known.  I think knowledge is very important in this aspect, knowledge about the fate of the women is very stereotyped when it comes to the Armenian question and changing that is a challenge.

Some said to me ‘Why are u doing this?’ ‘Why are you bringing this into the open, making it public?’ ‘This is considered dirty laundry, this is disgraceful for our nation.’ No I don’t think so, what is wrong in choosing life, because the way I see it, the women who survived, even if they were tattooed, kidnapped, raped and they gave birth to children of the rapists,  all this for me is that there were people who chose life. I want us when we talk about these women, I want us to remember them, not as women who were raped, but as the real heroes. Who were the one who gave birth, to all the Armenians living around the world today. We are the children of these women, we just need to accept and be proud of it.

Q. When you made the film and people began to view it, did you have anyone else contact you whose grandma had the same tattoos?

A. Very very many. When I was going around screening this film, after each screening, there were at least 10-15 people approaching me saying ‘my grandma was tattooed.’

Some of these girls never came back to their nation, to Armenian society, they had no chance, they stayed behind because they had no possibility.  Today Turkish society has started to talk, about Grandmas that were Armenian. It’s always Grandmas, not Grandfathers, when they’re talking about this…this brings up the issue of identity, what is happening to Turkish identity.  I think when we look at this in this way, it becomes urgent matter to look into ourselves and decide what or who makes an Armenian. And because this brings up the issue, do genetics make you an Armenian? if that is the case, look at these raped women who had children, these Muslim Armenians, hidden Armenians in Turkey today , aren’t we supposed to look at them as Armenians? Are Armenians are only supposed to be Christians?

Making this film brings so many more questions, as a collective , for how much longer every time an Armenian has slightly different religion or identity  are we going to throw them out, not take them as Armenians?

Q. What are some current issues in the Armenian diaspora, or in Armenia in regards to women that are of interest to you?

A. One, when are we going to learn that women are as intelligent, as talented and as motivated as men are? Not only in Armenia, but in diaspora as well. Look at our organizations, how many women do you see around you? All those committees, they create, how many women are there? I think it’s just stupid, ignorant to ignore the women. We are an essential part of the Armenian nation and if the men decide to discard us, then they’re discarding themselves.

Unfortunately the women are as responsible for this too.  There’s a lack of courage, or  interest in political issues especially. I want women to be involved in politics, and politics is not just becoming a member of the parliament. If you’re engaged in environment issues, there’s politics as well, everything we do in our lives is politics at the end of the road. I want us to be courageous enough and push the doors open with your elbows.

It’s unfortunate, look we’re living in the States, we’re living in the Europe, but still our women, when it comes to the community you can hardly hear them. If a woman is responsible for a hospital, or a big dept. somewhere or a physicist, if she has the capacity to do that work, we should be able to trust the women with political missions as well.

Watch Grandma’s Tattoos on Al Jazeera’s Witness series.

Yerevan Cuff Links

Designed by London-based Tateossian jewelers whose founder Robert Tateossian is commonly referred to as the “King of Cufflinks,” this design was inspired by the ceiling of a 17th century Armenian church. Plated with rhodium, a so-called “noble metal” that is resistant to corrosion, they were created to celebrate the store’s grand opening in the Armenian capital of Yerevan, along with a few other designs. $176, Saks Fifth Avenue.

Renee Garvey “Ancients” Coin Drop Bracelet

Part of the “Ancients” collection of  Renee Garvey, this bracelet features an authentic ancient 13th century Armenian coin and hand made in the U.S. Made with “vivid afghan turquoise” and a 10k gold ring and clasp set, the Renee Garvey jewelery line proudly touts its star-studded clientele, with pieces being worn by the likes of Jennifer Aniston and Salma Hayek $202, Endless.com

Arzu Studio Hope Symmetry Hand-Knotted Rug

Made by Arzu Studio Hope, a non-profit organization that provides income to Afghan women by selling the rugs they weave, this rug uses a pattern derived from the Caucasus Mountain region, it was woven by a young woman named Nikhbakht whose family escaped Taliban attacks in the late 90s only to find themselves in dire socioeconomic circumstances. With Arzu, she can now earn a steady income for her family, receive access to health care and take part in literary courses provided by the organization. $1,469, Pottery Barn

Matryoshka Armenian Girl Art Print

This matryoshka, or Russian nesting doll features a girl in traditional Armenian costume and comes to you via matryoshka illustrator Amy Perrotti. Printed on archival matte paper, this print of an original illustration resists fading and leaves a white border for framing. $14, Etsy

Modern Vintage Armenian Wedding Ring

Exhibiting pomegranate leafs – “traditional Armenian ornamental design elements used during wedding and engagement ceremonies,” according to the seller, this Armenian-touted wedding ring includes  a 10k pink gold ring with a “laboratory grown” 1.5 carat Rhodolite stones and a deluxe jewelry box. $1249, Etsy

Kremlin Cookie Jar, Halvah

Described as “uniquely Russian ceramic structures,” that are inscribed with the names of “exotic treats,” this jar belonged to a set that included “piroshki” and “shish kebab” counterparts. Halvah, a sweet confection made of flour, butter and sugar is enjoyed across the Middle East and Eastern Europe, and traditionally eaten in Armenian culture after a funeral ceremony. £49.95/$77,Anthropologie

“Noah Stone” from Mount Ararat

If you’ve ever wanted your own piece of Ararat, here’s your chance. According to the seller, the stone has certification that it was brought from the biblical Mount Ararat, once in Armenia and now behind Turkish borders, where Noah’s Ark is alleged to have landed after floods of epic proportions. After purchasing, you can enter the code at the bottom of the box on the Noah Stone website to register the  stone and see what it looked like before being put in your own tiny wooden box. Though there’s no insight as to how the stone was harvested, which means verifying if it actually came from the legendary mountain proves tricky and its probably being sold at a highly inflated price (the seller says he liked his Noah Stone so much, he bought a few to sell)  it might still make for a fun gift. $50, Ebay.

Satin Finish Silver Pomegranate Necklace

Made with Czech glass fused which make up the seeds in the center, this handmade pomegranate comes with a sterling silver chain and is signed on the back by the artist.
Pomegranates, a national symbol of Armenia, are said to represent fertility, abundance, prosperity and creativity. $90, Etsy

These days, Georgia has made getting membership into NATO a priority, successfully eroded  a large chunk of corruption, jumping from 133rd in 2004 to 68th best in 2010 in Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index and still remains in a deadlock with Russia over disputed territories.  Fiercely proud of its Christian heritage and wine, which has been said to be produced in the country for over 8,000 years, Georgia is a culturally rich and increasing popular travel destination, profiled in 2011 on CNN International’s ‘Eye On’ series. From its architecturally striking capital of Tbilisi to its sea resort of Batumi, where Enrique Iglesias performed last August, Georgia is a Caucasus jewel.

Driving through Tbilisi/Creative Commons/by Thomas Depenbusch und Marina Depenbusch-Zharova

Litter among a lake in Tbilisi/Creative Commons/by cinto2

A young Georgian girl in Khelvachauri, eight miles from the coastal city of Batumi

A street dog foraging for food in a garbage dumpster/Creative Commons/ by imolcho

Georgian folk dances in Batumi/Creative Commons/by tomislavmedak

Color coordinated apartments in Tbilisi/Creative Commons/by DDohler

The Bridge of Peace, situated over Tbilisi's Kura River, which lights up at night with the power of thousands of LEDs/Creative Commons/by eka shoniya

Cows seen through a metal fence in Georgia/Creative Commons/by eka shoniya

Teenage girls walk down a busy street/Creative Commons/by imolcho

A citywide view of Tbilisi, Georgia's capital/Creative Commons/by Ninukala

An Orthodox Priest in the Armenian quarter/Wikimedia Commons

In the spirit of holiday giving, Armenian and Greek Orthodox Monks took it upon themselves to exchange gifts, except they weren’t the kind of presents you would normally expect. Around 100 priests hurled brooms at each other in Bethlehem’s Church of Nativity as they were cleaning the church in preparation for Orthodox Christmas, which both cultural groups celebrate.

The outburst, broken up by baton and shield-wielding Palestinian police,  came to head as the Greek Orthodox and Armenian clerics, who each control a portion of the church along with Roman Catholics got into the scuffle over a ‘turf war.’ The Church of Nativity is believed to be built over the cave that marks the birthplace of Jesus.

Bethlehem police Lt-Col Khaled al-Tamimi was quoted in Reuters as saying that no one was arrested “because all those involved were men of God” while the BBC reported that the 1,700-year-old church is in bad shape because priests can’t agree on who should be footing the bill for its repair.

The rotting roof timbers have not been replaced since the 19th century  and due to rainwater seepage, there is a chance of an electrical short-circuit and fire, according to the historical preservation organization,  World Monuments Fund, who sees an agreement between the three keepers of the church as the only solution to its repair:

For the site to be preserved, its three custodians—the Greek Orthodox Church, the Armenian Orthodox Church, and the Franciscan order—would have to coordinate their efforts, but such a collaboration has not occurred in nearly a thousand years.

The WMF reports that an agreement was reached in September 2010 to restore the church’s roof, the first of its kind,  funded by the Palestinian authority. 

The ironically timed priestly brawl is a common occurrence. In 2008, Armenian and Greek Orthodox monks went head to head at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, known as the site of Jesus’ crucifixion. The Greeks blamed the Armenians for not recognizing their rights, while Armenians said Greeks had violated a traditional ceremony their clergy attempted to place one of their monks inside the Edicule, a structure said to encase the tomb of Jesus, reported the BBC. Unlike today’s battle, four monks were detained by police in the fight.

Watch the video of the broom fight below:

Armenian flags wave with a mosque in the background/Harout's Lens/Creative Commons

A bill has passed in France’s lower house of parliament that makes it a crime for that country’s citizens to express aloud denial of the Armenian genocide by the Ottoman Turks (the genocide occurred before and during World War I). A genocide denier will potentially face a year in jail and a $58,500 fine.

Turkey, the world’s leading Armenian genocide denier, is very alone in its view, as historians around the world have provided overwhelming proof that a genocide did occur. American travelers to Armenia during that period witnessed some of these travesties themselves, and in 1919 Theodore Roosevelt spoke of the need for payment of reparations to the people of Armenia for the “horrors” they had suffered.

As holocaust deniers are fond of doing, Turkey has claimed that the number of Armenian dead (some 1.5 million according to the scholarship; this is the number U.S. President Barack Obama uses in his annual speech on the subject) is exaggerated. And, as some Serbian nationalists like to similarly argue with regards to the Balkan Wars, many Turks say that those Armenians who perished were combatants or accidental casualties in an even-handed civil war. It’s the old, “I’m not saying it wasn’t bad; it was terrible–for all of us,” argument, which thus avoids the assigning of culpability to the far guiltier party.

Unfortunately, Armenia, a small, land-locked country with little love for or from its neighbors, has little to economically offer the outside world when compared to economic titan Turkey. Diplomatically, Turkey has become a skilled and useful middle-man in negotiations between Middle Eastern countries. I have often argued that if Turkey were admitted into the European Union (a notion French President Nicholas Sarkozy has opposed), the result might really be the best thing that ever happened in world politics.

History is written by winners, and so the Turkish perspective on the genocide, despite being outlandishly ill-supported by facts, has achieved great prominence. This drives Armenia nuts, and unfortunately sees that nation obsessing over events from a century ago, perhaps at the cost of applying positive energy in other directions that might help increase the country’s own might and thereby allow it a greater soap box to stand on.

The proposed French law is absolutely the wrong way to address these issues. First and foremost, the bill certainly restricts freedom of speech, and to say otherwise, or to attempt to justify the curtailing of free speech “in this one special case,” is to wander into dangerous territory.

Messages of solidarity to the Armenian people should be delivered by the heads of government, and not imposed as a government-mandated groupthink burden on all its citizens.

Of course, getting heads of government to do what they know is ethically correct can be frustrating. The presidents of the United States have long been cowardly in their annual addresses on Armenia’s day of remembrance. President Obama has avoided using the term “genocide” in his annual message despite a pledge that he would use the word back in the days when he sought 1.5 million Armenian-American votes (President Sarkozy, it should be noted, is pursuing 400,000 French-Armenian votes in 2012).

But to threaten imprisonment and massive fines to anyone who expresses a naive or ill-informed opinion seems another sort of cowardliness: an admission by the French government that its efforts to educate and reason with its own citizens about the Armenian genocide have ended in failure. The bill unfortunately suggests that the arguments against the genocide are so compelling that the only way to protect people from falling sway to them is to ban these opinions outright.

This is why repugnant revisionist historians, such as David Irving, who allege that the holocaust was a myth, portray themselves as free-speech martyrs. Essentially, they are. And so they take on a greater air of self-righteousness and victimhood, dangling the perfectly reasonable argument that in a free society we should be allowed to say whatever we’d like. Why hand them any sympathy at all by passing laws restricting their freedom of speech?

The fact is, I want to know if my neighbor is a Nazi sympathizer or not; at least I’d then know if I want to make his next wine and cheese and Wagner party a miss. But in passing such laws we force the ugliness of racism into the dark, dank cellar of society. There, people meet up on the internet, perhaps on the self-described “White Nationalist Community” Stormfront, far from the monitoring eyes of mainstream society, where they converse with reinforcing, like-minded individuals. They become a hidden cancer of society, unwatched and unmonitored because the laws of their own countries have removed them from public view.

As I write this from Zagreb, Croatia, I have sometimes wondered how Yugoslavian society, so unified for decades under dictator Marshal Tito, fell apart into such extremist camps over the course of a few years? Something was hidden underneath the ideological surface of “brotherhood and unity,” and finally, when the opportunity came, that concealed, centuries-long festering wound burst into a very public and pussy mess under the inflammatory stimulation of Slobodan Milošević, Radovan Karadžić, and others.

Hate and ignorance need to be out in the open, in the clear light of day, where both can be monitored, checked and, hopefully, cured via positive example from our elected officials, and, most importantly of all, education.

Back when I lived in Atlanta, I met stupid people in bars all the time (admittedly, I suppose I was always the other fellow’s stupid person). An example of a stupid person argument might be, coming from a white male: “Why can’t I use the word ‘nigger’? Black people use it in their rap lyrics all the time!”

Because we argued openly at that bar, our speech not curtailed by law, I stood a fighting chance of changing that stupid person’s mind.

Andrew Michael Kerr has written for the  Baltic Times, Balkan Insight, and Kyiv Post. He also blogs at Eurotrash or Eurotreasure? and is a DJ,  currently spinning tunes at Plan B Bar in Zagreb, Croatia.

Already recognized by the American Library Association as an outstanding novel for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Queer and Transgendered (LGBQT)  children and teens, author David-Matthew Barnes’ second young adult novel, “Swimming to Chicago,” is making waves.

Centering around Armenian-American teen Alex Bainbridge, the novel details his struggles to cope with his mother’s suicide, his own emerging identity in a small Southern town where he struggles to fit in and his friendship with Jillian Dambro that manages to  keep him grounded. But when Alex falls in love with new student Robby LaMont, the course of his life changes once again and the three teens find themselves vowing to stay together at any cost while the lives of adults unravel around them.

Barnes took some time out to answer questions about how prevailing discrimination against LGBQT people in Armenia inspired him to give Alex ethnic Armenian roots and what impact he hopes stories like his about marginalized groups have in the South Caucasus country and the world.

Q. Where did you get the inspiration to write this novel?

A. The entire concept for the novel was inspired by the instrumental dance song “Children“, written and recorded by Robert Miles. The music is very atmospheric and it sparked my imagination. The first time I heard the song, the characters of Alex and Robby came to me. I envisioned them running hand in hand in the rain. The image stayed with me until the novel insisted to be written.

When I started writing “Swimming to Chicago,” I knew I wanted to explore a culture and society that had not been given the attention and focus it deserved, especially where teenagers are concerned.

Q. Tell me a little about Alex, including his Armenian-American roots,  what influenced you to include this particular  cultural background and how is it important to the story?

A. Alex is a very complex character. Not only is he coming to terms with his sexuality, but he feels caught between two cultures. He feels guilty for not always embracing his Armenian roots, while at the same time he’s frustrated with the lack of substance in American teen life.

In the initial stages of the novel, I considered making the character of Alex an Iranian-American teen, mostly due to my emotional response to the execution of Ayaz Marhoni and Mahmoud Asgari.  But, I felt their story was told beautifully by Jay Paul Deratany in his stage play Haram Iran.

I continued researching and soon discovered articles about gay rights (or the lack of) in Armenia. The more I read, the more I became certain that Alex needed to be Armenian-American. Most importantly, because – to my knowledge – a young adult novel written by an American author has never featured a gay Armenian teen character as its protagonist.

Q. What impact do you hope this story has?

A. I received a beautiful email the first week the novel came out from a fifteen-year-old boy, who shared with me that reading the novel changed his life. In that moment, the purpose for writing “Swimming to Chicago” (and writing for young people in general) became very clear to me.

I hope that the novel reaches as many young people as possible. I wrote the novel with hope that not only Armenian-American teens will identify with Alex, but also other young people from conservative cultures will as well.

Q. Why do you think it’s important for it to have an impact in the first place?

A. As a writer, I feel a tremendous responsibility to write for young people.  I recognize how much weight our words as writers carry, especially when read by teenagers.

They need us now, more than ever. They want us to be their best friend, their older brother or sister, their confidant. They want our experiences: the choices we made or didn’t, the decisions we’ve never second-guessed, the regrets we’ll always have. It is imperative that we share our lives with young people – not just through our words, but also by example.

Q. What was the process of writing this novel like?

A. It took over eight years for this novel to see the light of day. It was a long process that involved a considerable amount of research. I revised Swimming to Chicago (including the overall structure) more so than any other novel I’ve written. I also waited for the book to find the perfect home, in terms of a publisher. Len Barot, the president of Bold Strokes Books, really understood and supported the risks I was taking with Swimming to Chicago, more so than anyone else. I also worked with two incredible editors on this novel, Greg Herren and Stacia Seaman.

While writing the novel, I found and read an article. This motivated and inspired me to write Alex’s story. I knew it was one that needed to be told.