107 years ago, my great-great-grandfather was rounded up with other intellectuals and deemed an internal threat to the already dismantling Ottoman Empire. Taken from his family, he was subject to the cruelty of an unknown fate that would be determined by men hungry for innocent blood. Why did this happen to him? Because he was Armenian.
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I knew I was going to write something today about the 107th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide, but after four years of rigorously studying this atrocity through the eyes of my ancestors, I could not grasp what my heart wanted my mind and voice to articulate. So let me share about today.
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Today left me at a loss for words. I have been up for hours thinking about what I experienced in Brooklyn just hours ago with my Armenian brothers and sisters on April 24th, 2022. My heart is overflowing with the warmest elation. The University of Rochester Susan B. Anthony Institute funded me to join the Armenian Creatives network in a reflective time of (re)appearing and what it means to remember. Oh, if I could only express how loved and connected I felt today. Armenian Creatives, our togetherness is a gift. I am Armenian and today, I feel Armenian.
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The exhaustion and weariness - and honestly trauma - of my research these past years have sometimes left me apathetic or numb to what I have learned, but being with my people today reminded me that it is up to us to keep our people alive and passions sympathetic and driven.
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Haiarbi (Alice) Torian, my great-grandmother, thank you for leaving your written thoughts behind for the world. Thank you for opening my eyes and awakening my conscience. Forgive me for feeling inadequate and tired some days; for not always treating your life’s work as the beauty it is. I am telling your story to many this week. Your life’s dream is becoming a reality. Haiarbi, may we be one this week. Our world needs to hear you - and they will.
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My friends, I plead with you to attend my lecture recital this Friday, April 29th, at 6pm in Ciminelli Lounge, if you are able. In-person or livestream. May we learn from a child, yes, a child without spring.
