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'GRANDMA'S TATOOS' SHINES SPOTLIGHT ON THE FEMALE VICTIMS OF GENOCIDE
By Alin K. Gregorian
Mirror-Spectator Staff
December 28, 2011
A photo of Grandma Khanoum
WATERTOWN, Mass. - Families are closest to one's heart, or so goes
conventional thinking. But what happens if there's a member of the
family who is so physically and emotionally detached that others
either have no memories of their presence in family events or what
memories there are, are bitter?
That is the starting point of documentary filmmaker Suzanne
Khardalian. Her film, based on her own grandmother, "Grandma's
Tattoos," shown at Watertown Middle School on December 14, was
sponsored by the National Association for Armenian Studies and
Research, the Armenian Revolutionary Federation Boston Sardarabad
Gomideh and the Armenian International Women's Association (AIWA). She
spoke and took questions after the showing.
Her paternal grandmother, Khanoum, lived in the apartment above her
family's. The camera captures the emotions of Khardalian, her sisters
and their mother, who express their resentment of and dislike for the
dour woman with the repulsive tattoos, who was incapable of displaying
any love to her husband, children or grandchildren.
The denouement, of course, brings tears to their eyes, when they see
her with the eyes of adults, realizing her horrific childhood and
its effect on her psyche.
Khanoum's story is unraveled by the very same despised tattoos. Where
did they come from?
Khardalian successfully merges the personal and the universal,
with Khanoum as starting point. The filmmaker, by chance, saw some
long-forgotten documents and photographs from the Near East Foundation
on the fate of about 90,000 young Armenian girls kidnapped and forced
into prostitution or sexual slavery during the Genocide. The girls had
markings similar to her grandmother. A light bulb went on in her head
and she decided to find out if her grandmother was one of those girls.
The film, which is recommended for audiences ages 13 and over,
succeeds in taking us on a journey of understanding by the whole
family as they come together for a relative's engagement in Beirut.
For a documentary on such a disturbing subject, there are many moments
of lightness and the family members' love for each other as well as
tremendous honesty, as they gather from all corners of the earth,
is apparent.
It is Khardalian's mother, who through dribs and drabs, confirms
the story of Khanoum, a woman who was broken, rendered incapable
of loving. She was only 12 when she, her younger sister and mother,
accepted the help of a man with a boat to escape certain death.
Unfortunately, the mother gave all their valuables to the man, in
hopes that he would let them go. Sadly, his depraved reasons for
helping the family become apparent all too soon. It would be several
years before the sisters could escape. Khanoum eventually reaches an
orphanage in Beirut and there she is coerced into marriage. Khardalian
stresses that her grandmother could not open up to anyone and that
marked women like her were looked down upon. Also, she noted that it
is probable that her grandmother had given birth to several children
and was forced to leave them before forming her family in Beirut.
Khardalian goes on a pilgrimage to the Syrian dessert to the area
where most probably her grandmother was held captive, along with
many others. There she runs into several people who say they have
Armenian grandmothers, all probably women who were forcibly brought
into their families.
All in all, Khardalian deftly connects her family's story with a
painful, still-hidden chapter of the Armenian Genocide, which is
much like the fate of women in later genocides, including Rwanda,
Darfur and even Congo today.
Denial and shame about these incidences have helped the issue remain
hidden. She spoke about one tattooed Armenian woman whose experiences a
cousin revealed to Khardalian in Fresno. When she arrived at her home
to interview her, she was kicked out of the woman's house by her son,
who suggested that nothing of the sort had happened to his mother.
Closer to home, she speaks to her great-aunt in Los Angeles, also with
similar tattoos, who denies ever being forced into sexual slavery
and instead says that when she was little and played with little
Turkish children, they suggested tattooing her fingers and she just
went along with it, as part of a game.
One of the most touching scenes in the film was that of a 104-year-old
survivor who now lives in Yerevan. As she tells her story, her tears
roll down her face and she starts crying for her mother who was
kidnapped along with her. The passage of time had clearly not made
the memories any easier to live with.
Khardalian has made numerous other documentaries, including the first
one on the Armenian Genocide, "Back to Ararat," in 1988. She noted
that the film is going to be released in DVD form in the near future.
By Alin K. Gregorian
Mirror-Spectator Staff
December 28, 2011
A photo of Grandma Khanoum
WATERTOWN, Mass. - Families are closest to one's heart, or so goes
conventional thinking. But what happens if there's a member of the
family who is so physically and emotionally detached that others
either have no memories of their presence in family events or what
memories there are, are bitter?
That is the starting point of documentary filmmaker Suzanne
Khardalian. Her film, based on her own grandmother, "Grandma's
Tattoos," shown at Watertown Middle School on December 14, was
sponsored by the National Association for Armenian Studies and
Research, the Armenian Revolutionary Federation Boston Sardarabad
Gomideh and the Armenian International Women's Association (AIWA). She
spoke and took questions after the showing.
Her paternal grandmother, Khanoum, lived in the apartment above her
family's. The camera captures the emotions of Khardalian, her sisters
and their mother, who express their resentment of and dislike for the
dour woman with the repulsive tattoos, who was incapable of displaying
any love to her husband, children or grandchildren.
The denouement, of course, brings tears to their eyes, when they see
her with the eyes of adults, realizing her horrific childhood and
its effect on her psyche.
Khanoum's story is unraveled by the very same despised tattoos. Where
did they come from?
Khardalian successfully merges the personal and the universal,
with Khanoum as starting point. The filmmaker, by chance, saw some
long-forgotten documents and photographs from the Near East Foundation
on the fate of about 90,000 young Armenian girls kidnapped and forced
into prostitution or sexual slavery during the Genocide. The girls had
markings similar to her grandmother. A light bulb went on in her head
and she decided to find out if her grandmother was one of those girls.
The film, which is recommended for audiences ages 13 and over,
succeeds in taking us on a journey of understanding by the whole
family as they come together for a relative's engagement in Beirut.
For a documentary on such a disturbing subject, there are many moments
of lightness and the family members' love for each other as well as
tremendous honesty, as they gather from all corners of the earth,
is apparent.
It is Khardalian's mother, who through dribs and drabs, confirms
the story of Khanoum, a woman who was broken, rendered incapable
of loving. She was only 12 when she, her younger sister and mother,
accepted the help of a man with a boat to escape certain death.
Unfortunately, the mother gave all their valuables to the man, in
hopes that he would let them go. Sadly, his depraved reasons for
helping the family become apparent all too soon. It would be several
years before the sisters could escape. Khanoum eventually reaches an
orphanage in Beirut and there she is coerced into marriage. Khardalian
stresses that her grandmother could not open up to anyone and that
marked women like her were looked down upon. Also, she noted that it
is probable that her grandmother had given birth to several children
and was forced to leave them before forming her family in Beirut.
Khardalian goes on a pilgrimage to the Syrian dessert to the area
where most probably her grandmother was held captive, along with
many others. There she runs into several people who say they have
Armenian grandmothers, all probably women who were forcibly brought
into their families.
All in all, Khardalian deftly connects her family's story with a
painful, still-hidden chapter of the Armenian Genocide, which is
much like the fate of women in later genocides, including Rwanda,
Darfur and even Congo today.
Denial and shame about these incidences have helped the issue remain
hidden. She spoke about one tattooed Armenian woman whose experiences a
cousin revealed to Khardalian in Fresno. When she arrived at her home
to interview her, she was kicked out of the woman's house by her son,
who suggested that nothing of the sort had happened to his mother.
Closer to home, she speaks to her great-aunt in Los Angeles, also with
similar tattoos, who denies ever being forced into sexual slavery
and instead says that when she was little and played with little
Turkish children, they suggested tattooing her fingers and she just
went along with it, as part of a game.
One of the most touching scenes in the film was that of a 104-year-old
survivor who now lives in Yerevan. As she tells her story, her tears
roll down her face and she starts crying for her mother who was
kidnapped along with her. The passage of time had clearly not made
the memories any easier to live with.
Khardalian has made numerous other documentaries, including the first
one on the Armenian Genocide, "Back to Ararat," in 1988. She noted
that the film is going to be released in DVD form in the near future.