In Yerevan, it’s dangerous to get used to the quiet

Photo: Wikimedia Commons

My apartment is my sanctuary. Every day, I come home from work, tired from cycling and stressed from the sort of the day that only come if you work at a news agency. I realize how much I crave that moment: that moment of stepping into my place, quiet and serene, where I can remove — both the physical and metaphorical — layers of the work day I carry with me, jump into the shower and de-compress.

Perhaps it’s not so much the nature of the work that I find stressful (which, of course, it can be), but the environment in which I work.

I work in a rented unit that’s part of a large apartment complex in a busy part of Yerevan. By large, I don’t so much mean that the building is tall, but that there are many buildings connected to each other overlooking a central space that can be considered primarily to be a parking lot. The room I work in has lots of windows which is great for natural light, but not so great when it comes to looking into your neighbors’ windows and hearing every single argument and noise coming not only from the neighboring units, but also from outside.

Every day, at least 2 or 3 children call for their mothers from the concrete square that though is mainly a parking lot, it’s also a children’s playing area, a spot for an impromptu game of backgammon between older unemployed men, and the spot from which watermelons are sold out of the trunk of a car as a man yells “Fine watermelons! 100 dram! Delicious watermelons!”

Come to think of it, I haven’t heard that man in a while, but over the span of a few days not too long ago, I heard the price of watermelon go down from 120 to 100 to 80 dram per kilo (don’t assume the price is the cost per watermelon — oh, no, it’s the cost per kilo) and my heart went out to the vendor and his business, competing with the low prices offered by supermarket chains.

Apart from children calling out to their mothers (why, by the way, is the intonation always the same so even when it’s a different kid “Mama!” sounds the same?) and women calling out to their husbands or brothers or, surprise, surprise, their children, I have the fortunate opportunity to hear the sound of a vacuum that comes on and off daily while I struggle to get that news piece online, or, say, find the best translation into English for a particular Armenian word.

At first, I thought that our neighbors followed the adage “cleanliness is next to godliness” and had a penchant for vacuuming EVERY DAY, but it turns out that’s not the case: rather, there’s a guy operating a car cleaning service out of a garage right below our window. And as if it’s not enough that I have to hear the sound of a vacuum every day (trust me, you can only imagine how lovely silence sounds after the vacuum is turned off), our dear friend likes to turn on the music from whatever car he’s cleaning at the time and entertain the neighbors with the latest Armenian rabiz hit song.

Despite the party soundtrack, I don’t have the urge to dance.

So you can imagine how, in comparison, my apartment feels like a sanctuary. And yet, in Yerevan, where one is inundated with sounds and smells at every turn, I think, it’s dangerous to get used to quiet.

And now, I sit here in my apartment with the window open, overlooking yet another residential courtyard (a hayat as it’s known), usually quiet, but today there are contractors working on adding another room to an apartment across the way and the sound of the circular saw is a reminder that no matter where you may be in Yerevan, you cannot separate yourself from its sights and sounds...

Hearing more than one, and different, stories

Hearing novelist Chimamanda Adichie's TED talk about “The danger of a single story,” I was reminded of media reports on Armenia and Azerbaijan. Too often, we hear (and read) the same nationalist rhetoric that is conveyed to us by biased media coverage from both sides.

And it’s not just hearing one story, but hearing the same story that is dangerous. A friend of mine in Canada recently reminded me of local activist work, which seems to involve organizing the same events and highlighting the same causes, of course through the same Eurocentric, Western lens and I have to agree with her: it’s tiring to see people with good intentions doing what was already done before and not actually making any strides forward.

So how do we move forward?

Well, for one thing, we understand that no single story can define a nation, a culture, a sect or any other myriad of all those aspects of our identity. It is important to read, hear, watch many stories, and when we think we have a complete picture of that nation/culture/people, we watch, hear and read again, and again, and again. Because I don’t believe that’s possible to ever have a complete picture of a nation/culture/people.

That’s why I’m excited about the Eurasia Partnership Foundation’s unbiased e-media coverage in Armenia and Azerbaijan project. According to the EPF Armenia website, the project aims to contribute to accurate and unbiased reporting of the bilateral relationship between Armenia and Azerbaijan and the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict, especially in the online media and blogosphere.

As someone who works in online news media, I’m glad that more attention is being paid to this not-so-new field, and specifically in the area of unbiased media reporting between these two South Caucasus states.

Now here’s hoping the proposals they’ve received take into account reporting on more than one story... ;)

Being Queer and in Love in Yerevan...

... so reads the title of a guest post by yours truly on Bekhsoos.com.

Bekhsoos.com is a queer Arab magazine published weekly by the amazing folks at Meem, "a community of lesbian, bisexual, queer & questioning women and transgender persons in Lebanon."

According to the website, Bekhsoos' "objective is to fill the gap of lesbian- and transgender-produced writing in the Arab world through articles, reports, investigations, personal stories, opinion pieces, and creative writing." The website publishes articles in Arabic and in English, and I even noticed a poem published recently in French.

Though I'd be hard-pressed to say that Armenia is part of the Arab world, I was asked to contribute a piece on what it means to be a queer woman living in Yerevan, Armenia, by a friend of mine, a fellow queer Armenian living in Beirut who happens to be working at Meem. I was — and still am — flattered to be asked and I hope they weren't too disappointed by the piece I submitted. Writing it gave me a chance to write from a personal perspective — something I find hard to do in public.

What about you? Do you find it difficult to be candid and personal in your writing when it appears in public? Or are you more comfortable writing your personal thoughts than presenting others' stories or reporting the goings-on around you?

Moving the conversation forward: Armenian-Azeri dialogue

I just came across a new blog that I wanted to share with you. It's called "Global Chaos" and the name was enough to draw me in. Blogger Yelena (or Lena) Osipova's latest post is on "the other" — growing up in Armenia and being taught to hate "the other" (in this case, Azeris), a group of people whom Lena had never met but whom she had heard so much about.

This post was republished by EurasiaNet, which is how I found myself on Lena's blog. EurasiaNet published the post along with another article on the same topic: Scary Azeri's article "Sometime in my lifetime" originally published by Oneworld: The Caucasian Knot as part of their Overcoming Negative Stereotypes in the South Caucasus project (yay, Onnik!).

Apparently, another new article on the Armenian-Azerbaijani dialogue will appear on Oneworld soon: this one by one of my favourite journalists, Liana Aghajanian of the online magazine Ianyan. Look out for this and other stories on moving the conversation between Armenians and Azeris forward. Great work, everyone!

On taking risks

Load the ship and set out. No one knows for certain whether the vessel will sink or reach the harbor. Cautious people say, "I'll do nothing until I can be sure." Merchants know better. If you do nothing, you lose. Don't be one of those merchants who won't risk the ocean.

- Rumi

(Thank you to a good friend of mine who reminded me of Rumi with this post of hers.)

A queer woman’s take on living in the Caucasus (or at least Yerevan)

I live with my partner. In Yerevan. That might sound exceptional to some, but that’s just the way it is. We sometimes hold hands in public (especially if we’re rushing across the street in oncoming traffic). If we get any odd stares, it’s usually directed at my partner who gets odd stares anyway, even when she’s alone, from the way she looks. When we’re together, people ask her where she’s from, assuming I’m the one who’s from here and she must be from somewhere else.

Public displays of affection are limited, naturally, but then again you don’t see many heterosexual couples making out either. (I find that, in general, sex and sexuality — gay or straight — are taboo.)

When my partner goes to the doctor and he or she asks her if she’s having sex, she says no. Because we all know what is meant by that question: are you having heterosexual (a.k.a. penetrative) sex? Though I have yet to come across a doctor who clarifies the sex question. And it’s too bad really because how can you diagnose or treat someone if you’re not getting the full picture?

Actually, before asking the sex question, doctors often want to know your marital status: are you married? (And don’t think for a moment that this question might mean are you married to your same-sex partner.) As if from your response the doctor can assume that you’re having sex (ha!). But just to be sure, Doctor asks whether you’re sexually active after he or she has satisfactorily received a response to the marital status question. *sigh*

When we travelled in the region together, hotel and B&B staff assumed we were friends and so gave us a room with two separate single beds. But being an artist and a writer, we’re often inclined to be creative ;)

You should know that there’s no Pride Parade in Yerevan. [And no one I know has attempted to do what these activists did in Moscow this year. Though there was a symbolic gay wedding in Armenia a few years ago.] There are no rainbow flags on storefront windows proclaiming “Queer Dollars Welcome Here,” or banners advertising the next local queer event. There are no gay couples kissing in the street though I swear I’ve seen straight men more affectionate with each other in public than anywhere else I’ve lived. And unfortunately the odd gay man that might be depicted in a TV series is usually portrayed in a negative way.

There’s no law that specifically prohibits discrimination based on sexual orientation or gender identity, though thankfully there are a few NGOs that work with the LGBT community (in terms of support, advocacy, education, resources), as well as educating the mainstream public on what it means to be LGBT, explaining/educating on terminology and history, outlining human rights.

And of course, we are here. And there are many of us. Unfortunately, the ignorant views (often guided by religious beliefs and/or “family values”) makes it harder for us to come out and even threatens our safety.

Take for example British-based Armenian band VO.X who, in their latest video, label homosexuality a “perversion.” But, hey, they’re just expressing their personal opinion, right? Wrong. Even worse, VO.X has not only changed the settings on their video on YouTube so that comments are no longer allowed, but also added a description which says that this video is about Armenia ONLY (caps their’s) and the views and opinions expressed therein are “purely and subjectively Orthodox Christian and as such, within Armenia’s context, do not violate human rights.”

Are you kidding me?

I could go on and on about this topic, but others have already written extensively on it and so for more information, read blogger ArtMika’s post here, along with his follow-up post here, as well as Global Voices coverage here.

Armenia might have endorsed the UN statement against discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity in December 2008, but it doesn’t mean it has any laws that actually protect LGBT people from discrimination. [See this Wikipedia article on LGBT rights in Armenia that also includes a brief history... in case you’re ever confronted with the argument that it was Europe who “brought” the notion of same-sex relationships to Armenia — ha!]

The truth is, it’s not easy being queer anywhere. And yes, I agree that it’s especially not easy being queer in Armenia. But please don’t for a moment think that there aren’t any LGBT folks here, or that we can’t live our lives here like everyone else.

Life is full of contradictions. You don’t have to go far or look too hard to see the diversity that exists in the lives of those around you... even on these ancient lands.

Things I Love

Photo from my personal collection.

Eating. Cooking. Traveling. Writing. Blogging. Now if only I could combine these ingredients into a recipe for paid employment ;) Yesterday, I watched Julie & Julia and became inspired. Today, a brief post to remind myself (and you, dear reader) that anything is possible. Now back to the hustle…

The many faces of nationalism and xenophobia

I know there exists nationalist rigour in Armenia but I find it difficult hearing it on a personal level, on a one-on-one level and from people who I consider to be understanding, in general, and open-minded at best.

I very recently began volunteering with this great environmental NGO. I won’t go into the details here as this post is not about pointing fingers, but a wonderful, educated, and otherwise understanding man who’s been working at said NGO for over 12 years recently said some things that I, in my naïveté, was surprised to hear.

When talking about possible upcoming vacation time, I asked whether he’d be spending some time at Lake Sevan in Armenia or Batumi in Georgia (a popular tourist destination for Armenian citizens). He said he would rather die (or something to that effect) than give any of his money to Georgia and the Georgian people. He then went on to paint an essentialist picture of Georgians and how they only pursue their own interests, and that, at the expense of others. I was surprised because until then we’d been having a wonderful conversation about local and Diasporan Armenians and more interestingly on those Diasporan Armenians who repatriate to Armenia (case in point: me). I could understand his perspective and in general, I thought we understood each other. But on the topic of Georgia and the Georgians, he was quite firm and quite racist/xenophobic. And from there, our opinions diverged.

Then, yesterday I got a chance to meet a well-known Armenian sculptor. Another interesting conversation ensued, but more so on the topic of art and artists and we seemed to be in general agreement. And then, suddenly, he says how we (i.e. Armenians) forced the Turks who were living here (here? as in, in Armenia?) out and how towns and villages in Eastern Armenia had Turkish names (?). Now I don’t know about the facts of his statements, but the fervour in which they were spoken, the way he seemed so proud that we kicked out the Turks, really irked me. And yet, I didn’t find any way of saying anything otherwise since it would be his word against mine (read: older Armenian man born and raised in Armenia vs. young Diasporan Armenian who hasn’t lived in Armenia for a full year yet).

Incident number 3: a Facebook post by a friend of a friend who encourages Armenians outside of Armenia to return to Armenia, raise their kids here and not to intermarry with non-Armenians and produce children who, as he says, might be European or American. Um, hello? Do you live in this country? (He does.)

Look around you, my friend: quite a lot, and I repeat, A LOT, of local Armenians are not 100% Armenian by blood. Many are mixed, often Russian-Armenian. These type of statements only contribute to the false idea of “full-blood Armenians” which apparently are those who live in Armenia. Those outside of Armenia, be warned: you could have mixed-race or mixed-ethnicity children. Oddly enough, no one talks about that reality inside Armenia. Or about how this country has never been populated only by Armenians, and even today, there’s a sizeable Yezidi and Kurdish population (not to mention, the Iranian community, which has been growing in recent years).

And finally, another moment where I thought even in the best of intentions, even among those educated, open-minded groups of people that I fortunately have a chance to interact with regularly, there are age-old racist and xenophobic sentiments that may be hidden, but at any given moment can rise to the surface.

Case in point: Well-known journalist Onnik Krikorian who writes for Global Voices presented on “Social Media and Conflict Transformation on Armenia-Azerbaijan relations” at Bar Camp Yerevan yesterday. A nice refreshing change from the usual rhetoric when it comes to this touchy subject. However, during question and answer period, a couple of individuals stated that Azerbaijan should be the first to take a step (toward conflict resolution) and that it’s worse “over there” and what about all those lies the Azerbaijani media publish about Armenia? And with the snap of your fingers, we were once again confronted with age-old beliefs about the enemy and the “us vs. them” mentality.

Instead of pointing fingers, I say, instead of saying “they” should go first, why don’t  you look at your own actions? You can only speak for yourself and only control your own actions, so this should be our point of departure. Otherwise, the conversation goes nowhere. These type of statements are road blocks: they don’t move the conversation forward, they only lead to dead ends.

Onnik spoke about his Azerbaijani friends, about cooperating with Azerbaijani journalists and activists and how Armenians have more in common with our neighbour than we might think. He also made special mention of Social Innovation Camp Caucasus, which I was lucky to have been a part of earlier this year.

Another Bar Camp participant, who also said she has Azerbaijani friends (Onnik, you seemed surprised ;) asked, how effective do you think this grassroots level of connecting one-on-one really is? Shouldn’t it be the governments’ (both Armenian and Azerbaijani) responsibility to initiate conflict resolution? To which Onnik brilliantly replied, “If you’re going to wait for governments to initiate change, you’re going to be waiting a long [and I add, long] time.”

I think it’s all about the grassroots level. It starts here. It starts now. With us. We don’t wait for governments, nor should I say NGOs. We start with each of us. Though I believe we should address the nationalism that’s touted by the media and by the state, I don’t think that’s where change happens or where we should start from. We start with you and I.

Stop the xenophobic comments against Georgians, Azerbaijanis, and Turks. Stop the generalizations and the essentialism. It doesn’t move the conversation forward. These are age-old beliefs and though, yes, history must be addressed, I agree with Onnik: we don’t start mending relations with our fellow Azerbaijanis by talking about Nagorno-Karabakh. Let’s talk about something else. And once we’ve found our common ground (because, trust me, we have a common ground), only then can we move on to tackling the tough issues.

Love and Fear

Returning to Yerevan after a week in Amsterdam, I realize that it’s been nearly a month since my last post (I’m not too happy about that). Lately, I’ve felt somewhat removed from what was going on around me: I haven’t been catching up on local and international news (except to find out that ash clouds continue to impede people’s travel plans ;) and I haven’t been reading fellow bloggers’ posts and Twitter updates. I guess I’ve been focusing more on what’s going on inside than what has been happening outside in the world.

I’ve been revisiting memories by revisiting places I lived and people who I knew before I moved to Yerevan, and I’ve been listening to my heart, trying to tell her it’s okay to be afraid, but just don’t let the fears overtake you.

Seeing my ex who’s now a good friend reminded me of how I learned to love. How I opened up my heart in ways that I had never known it was possible to be before and how that has had a profound impact on my life since then. It’s also shown me where I was and where I am now.

I think it’s important to examine our past, but not to let it consume us in the present.

It’s important to know where you come from, how you arrived here.

My past provides guidance because it shows me the mistakes I made (and the ones I didn’t) and the choices I can make now to move in the direction I want to go. It provides the focus that I sometimes feel that I’m lacking, especially these days when I’m unemployed and trying not to let fears of this unfamiliar state consume me.

I’m trying to focus on what I love. “Where there is love, there is no question,” so reads a post on Tara Agacayak’s blog. I love Tara’s writing and this blog in particular, which inspires us to do what we love.

Where do you find your love? What about your fears? Is it possible to provide space for both in your life (without letting the fear overtake you)?

Introducing: Artists in Residence in Yerevan and Diplomacy at Work

On April 24, instead of making the annual trek to Tsitsernakaberd Genocide Memorial in Yerevan as Armenians (especially Diasporan Armenians living in or visiting Yerevan on this day) are expected to do, I went to the opening of an art exhibit at my friend’s apartment. The artist, Linda K. Anderson, an older American woman who’d come to Yerevan by way of Sweden and then the Netherlands, was here for two months as an artist-in-residence through the Art and Cultural Studies Laboratory (ACSL).

However, due to unforeseen circumstances that involved a falling out with the ACSL Artistic Director, she ended up completing her work and arranging other accommodation outside of the residency program. I really admired her courage and initiative in taking what turned out to be a bad situation and making it work for her. She ended up completing the work she came here to do, but on her own terms.

Her work, called “Armenian Cave Paintings,” was exhibited in what she called “Gallery Shushan” (named after the woman, my friend, whose apartment she was staying and working in). The huge canvases (as well as a few small ones) were spread out throughout the apartment. Linda had made a blackberry crumble and prepared other hors d’oeuvres for the occasion and her son, David, had composed music for the event which was played throughout the evening. We had a chance to meet Linda’s family via Skype. All in all, it was a cozy atmosphere.

One friend, an art critic and contemporary art professor in Yerevan, recalled how the exhibit-in-an-apartment reminded him of Soviet times when institutions didn’t exist for art that wasn’t the socialist realism that was the main stay of the period and “nonconformist” artists would organize exhibits in their apartments. And though I have never lived in a Soviet country, I had a chance to experience what that might’ve been like, if only just for a moment.

The unforeseen events which resulted in this exhibit in a residential apartment and the feeling of being part of amazing moments that happen on the fringes are the same wheels in motion which resulted in meeting Asheer Akram, another artist from the US who — wait — is also here as an ACSL artist-in-residence.

Asheer was given my number from a mutual friend of ours who had called me to say that an artist from the US (Asheer) who was in Yerevan had his Macbook power adapter stolen from his luggage and could I please lend him my power cable so he could at least recharge his laptop till a new one arrived from the US? Of course I agreed.

But wait — stolen from his luggage? Yes. Apparently, Asheer, coming from another artist-in-residency program in Pakistan to Yerevan (by way of Dubai) had his plastic-wrapped luggage opened and checked by Armenian customs and the result: a missing Macbook power adapter and a carton of Pakistani cigarettes. Can you believe it? It’s quite possible that Armenian customs officers kept those items for “security” purposes with plans to sell the power adapter and most likely smoke the cigarettes themselves. I mean, really. Ouf!

Luckily, Asheer wasn’t missing anything else but buying a charger from the “Apple” store in Yerevan was out of the question: $200?! Yes, apparently what costs maybe $70-80 USD in the States costs $200 in Yerevan. I told Asheer: economies of scale (and perhaps the ability to get away with charging atrocious prices that no average Yerevan citizen could afford.)

Making Connections

My personal goal of “Making Connections” last year seems to have carried over into this year. With that in mind, I decided to introduce Asheer to Linda. I believe that artists should meet other artists. And you should always hear all sides of the story ;)

Informal, impromptu gatherings in Yerevan are part of what I love about being here. Not just among artists, but among diverse groups of individuals. And this, I find, happens on a regular basis.

Meetings between Armenian president Serzh Sargsyan, Azerbaijani president Ilham Aliyev and Russian president Dmitry Medvedev on settling the Nagorno-Karabakh conflict or any other number of local conflicts are nothing compared to the many informal trilateral and multilateral meetings that take place among locals, repats, expats and visitors.

The conversations and topics that are covered are truly diplomacy at work. We complain about local and regional issues [whether that be the art scene(s) or politics or a host of other issues], but respectfully. We understand that we’re all in this together. We understand the importance of community. Of living in this small, globalized world. Of respecting differences and history. And sometimes amazing things happen. Collaborations, connections, cooperation. 

And though this blog post is about visiting artists, it very well could be about repats or expats or locals discussing issues they may not agree on or expressing their frustration at the state of affairs.

Yerevan’s just like that. To me, it’s still full of surprises, “coincidences,” random meetings, and making connections.

Magic.