The Armenian Plight: Why Don’t We Just “Get Over It”?
Starting in the late 1990s the Azerbaijani government executed the destruction of the Armenian cemetery in Julfa (Armenian: Jugha) in modern day Nakhichevan. The cemetery consisted of thousands of funerary monuments dating back several hundred years. Most of these monuments were “khachkars”, or decorated cross-stones — the epitome of Christian Armenian artwork. Today, along with the local monasteries and churches, the cemetery is leveled. Even though some nations criticized the Azerbaijani government for this vile act, it really doesn’t matter.
For today, when looking at that same area, one can simply assume that the Armenians never lived here. The Armenians are gone. Even their dead are gone. Once and for all. At last.
This is just one example of continued erasure that occurs not only in Azerbaijan, but also in Turkey. Armenian churches converted into storages, mosques, warehouses. Armenian cemeteries destroyed to open up space for a new parking lot or perhaps a nice modern mall where people can walk over the bones of my ancestors as they checkout the newest products on the shelves.
Why shouldn’t this be done? The Armenians are gone anyway? No one is going to tend to these graves, no one is coming to place any flowers, or reminisce.
They’re gone.
Or so they think.
We’re here, scarred, beaten, but nevertheless alive and here. Scattered around the world like seeds we grew, built our new communities, built new churches, new schools, new cemeteries. They kicked us out of Baku, Erzurum, Ainteb, Sumgayit, we went to Paris, Los Angeles, Moscow, Buenos Aires…endless diasporas.
It is probably one of the most heartwarming feelings when I see Armenians, especially young Armenians, from different parts of the world connect, and meet each other, and interact, and share their Armenianess…
“Oh, you’re Armenian too?”
“Yes.”
…suddenly somewhere far away in the valleys of the Armenian Highlands, somewhere near Kars perhaps, an apricot suddenly became a little sweeter, a littler tastier. A breeze cools the aching, pained walls of an Armenian church standing in ruins, alone.
It is this generational trauma that every Armenian carries in himself/herself, and instills in the future generations. This is why when our miniscule homeland is threatened we cannot sit in silence, we cannot just watch, because immediately we think of the past, we remember what this can lead to. We are not to be erased, not from these lands, not again. We know far too well what it means to be facing annihilation, for they got too damn close in making it happen.
It is this very reason why we as Armenians cannot “just get over it”. Because its still happening to this very day, as our existence is threatened, our place on the map is being questioned every day. The same reason Black people should not just “get over” slavery, the same way Native Americans should not just “get over” their genocide — the very same way we cannot. Because its still fucking happening, it never ended, the mission of the oppressor is still in progress.
When I look back at history and consider the timeline through which the Armenian people have lived, I really feel shocked at the fact that we are still here. Whether it be the countless Roman-Persian wars, the Islamic invasions, the Turkic tribes, the Mongols, the Russians…how are we still here? With our own language, our own script, our own Church, our own names, our own songs, our own country?
Oh Armenians, how in the world did you manage to still be here? Brings a smile to my face, and tears to my eyes.
