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Reflections of a Participant at the `Islamized Armenians' Conference in Istanbul
http://asbarez.com/117402/reflections-of-a-participant-at-the-%E2%80%98islamized-armenians%E2%80%99-conference-in-istanbul/
Friday, December 13th, 2013
`Islamized in 1915: History and Bearing Witness' panelists (left to
right): Arda Melkonian, Doris Melkonian, Vahe Tachjian, Ronald Suny
(chair), and Ishkhan Chiftjian.
BY DORIS K. MELKONIAN
Passing through the security gates of the historic Bogazici
University, the former Robert College, I was struck by the beauty and
serenity of the campus as we meandered through a drive paralleling the
breathtaking Bosphorus on the right. The contrast of the bustling
touristic Sultanahmet and Taksim districts to the tranquil campus was
undeniable. While absorbing the beauty of my surroundings, I was
reminded of my friend, Steve, a native of Istanbul, who described his
student days here at the university with such passion. His love for
this institution was evident in his voice as he instructed me to walk
by the Bosphorus and `breathe in the air' for him. As I was following
his explicit instructions, I was sadly reminded of other young
Armenian men who attended this institution a century ago with hopes
and dreams for a brighter future. Unlike my friend, Steve, their goals
and dreams were never to be realized as the Genocide robbed them of a
golden future. Their stories flooding my mind, created an inner
conflict as I was forced to reconcile this dark past with the
present-day beauty of magnificent stone buildings of Bogazici
University.
A range of emotions colliding within me, I made my way through a
courtyard teeming with Armenian and non-Armenian attendees, to
encounter yet additional security checks and a metal detector, prior
to entering Albert Long Hall where the conference was to take place.
The hall, with remnants of years gone by, showcased a massive pipe
organ that dominated one end and a choir loft, the other end.
The audience, exceeding 500, had assembled into this majestic hall. As
I gazed at the sea of attendees, I was struck by how different the
audience looked compared to United States audiences. What was
immediately noticeable were women, young and middle-aged, with head
coverings, quietly seated, listening attentively.
As speaker after speaker provided historical accounts, analyses,
vignettes, and narratives of ordeals endured by survivors both during
and after the Genocide, a sense of sorrow permeated the proceedings
for me. My heart ached not only for the loss of precious Armenian
lives during the Genocide but for the tragic fate endured by the
fragment of the Armenian population who had been left behind.
In the diaspora, we mourn the 1.5 million who perished during the
Genocide. We seldom remember the remnants of the Armenian community
who couldn't leave and were forced to assimilate. They experienced a
different kind of death - a living death, suffering in silence and
isolation. While presenting my paper, I remembered my maternal
grandfather, Natan, who was taken into a Muslim household as a little
boy. Had he not escaped, he would have suffered the same fate as many
Islamized Armenians.
The conference concluded with grandchildren of Islamized Armenians
describing the sting of rejection by the Armenian community, and their
longing for acceptance. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I listened to
their pain. Their grief and suffering, palpable with each uttered
word, deeply resonated within me. My heart ached for these individuals
who don't belong to either community - Turkish Muslim nor Armenian
Christian. I couldn't help but grieve with them, as feelings of
empathy for their suffering found root within me.
As Armenians - Christian Armenians, how should we respond? When an
Islamized Armenian, in the halls of a Turkish university, publically
exclaims `I am Armenian!', what should our response be? Do we accept
them into our midst, thus creating a mosaic of Armenians? As
Christians, do we embrace them with the love of Christ? Or do we
reject and abandon them?
At the conclusion of this historic conference, I left the tranquil
campus consumed with inner turmoil, a different kind of turmoil from
what I experienced initially, as I contemplated the challenges we will
face as a community as we respond to this group of hybrid individuals.
Today, on the eve of the Genocide centennial, the surfacing of
Islamized Armenians is a reminder of the trauma that has impacted us,
of the tremendous loss that we as a nation have endured, and of the
challenges that lie before us.
I went to Istanbul with great anticipation to present my paper, to
meet fellow scholars from around the world, to reunite with friends
and make new ones.
However, I did not expect to be forced to confront my own uneasiness
at the notion of a `Muslim Armenian.'
I did not expect to find myself mourning the pain of fellow human
beings, fellow Armenians.
I did not expect to be moved so deeply, to find myself reaching out
and hugging strangers who didn't share my language, my religion, my
culture, but who nonetheless considered themselves Armenians.
Having encountered Islamized Armenians and their stories, how can my
response be anything other than compassion, acceptance, and love?
http://asbarez.com/117402/reflections-of-a-participant-at-the-%E2%80%98islamized-armenians%E2%80%99-conference-in-istanbul/
Friday, December 13th, 2013
`Islamized in 1915: History and Bearing Witness' panelists (left to
right): Arda Melkonian, Doris Melkonian, Vahe Tachjian, Ronald Suny
(chair), and Ishkhan Chiftjian.
BY DORIS K. MELKONIAN
Passing through the security gates of the historic Bogazici
University, the former Robert College, I was struck by the beauty and
serenity of the campus as we meandered through a drive paralleling the
breathtaking Bosphorus on the right. The contrast of the bustling
touristic Sultanahmet and Taksim districts to the tranquil campus was
undeniable. While absorbing the beauty of my surroundings, I was
reminded of my friend, Steve, a native of Istanbul, who described his
student days here at the university with such passion. His love for
this institution was evident in his voice as he instructed me to walk
by the Bosphorus and `breathe in the air' for him. As I was following
his explicit instructions, I was sadly reminded of other young
Armenian men who attended this institution a century ago with hopes
and dreams for a brighter future. Unlike my friend, Steve, their goals
and dreams were never to be realized as the Genocide robbed them of a
golden future. Their stories flooding my mind, created an inner
conflict as I was forced to reconcile this dark past with the
present-day beauty of magnificent stone buildings of Bogazici
University.
A range of emotions colliding within me, I made my way through a
courtyard teeming with Armenian and non-Armenian attendees, to
encounter yet additional security checks and a metal detector, prior
to entering Albert Long Hall where the conference was to take place.
The hall, with remnants of years gone by, showcased a massive pipe
organ that dominated one end and a choir loft, the other end.
The audience, exceeding 500, had assembled into this majestic hall. As
I gazed at the sea of attendees, I was struck by how different the
audience looked compared to United States audiences. What was
immediately noticeable were women, young and middle-aged, with head
coverings, quietly seated, listening attentively.
As speaker after speaker provided historical accounts, analyses,
vignettes, and narratives of ordeals endured by survivors both during
and after the Genocide, a sense of sorrow permeated the proceedings
for me. My heart ached not only for the loss of precious Armenian
lives during the Genocide but for the tragic fate endured by the
fragment of the Armenian population who had been left behind.
In the diaspora, we mourn the 1.5 million who perished during the
Genocide. We seldom remember the remnants of the Armenian community
who couldn't leave and were forced to assimilate. They experienced a
different kind of death - a living death, suffering in silence and
isolation. While presenting my paper, I remembered my maternal
grandfather, Natan, who was taken into a Muslim household as a little
boy. Had he not escaped, he would have suffered the same fate as many
Islamized Armenians.
The conference concluded with grandchildren of Islamized Armenians
describing the sting of rejection by the Armenian community, and their
longing for acceptance. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I listened to
their pain. Their grief and suffering, palpable with each uttered
word, deeply resonated within me. My heart ached for these individuals
who don't belong to either community - Turkish Muslim nor Armenian
Christian. I couldn't help but grieve with them, as feelings of
empathy for their suffering found root within me.
As Armenians - Christian Armenians, how should we respond? When an
Islamized Armenian, in the halls of a Turkish university, publically
exclaims `I am Armenian!', what should our response be? Do we accept
them into our midst, thus creating a mosaic of Armenians? As
Christians, do we embrace them with the love of Christ? Or do we
reject and abandon them?
At the conclusion of this historic conference, I left the tranquil
campus consumed with inner turmoil, a different kind of turmoil from
what I experienced initially, as I contemplated the challenges we will
face as a community as we respond to this group of hybrid individuals.
Today, on the eve of the Genocide centennial, the surfacing of
Islamized Armenians is a reminder of the trauma that has impacted us,
of the tremendous loss that we as a nation have endured, and of the
challenges that lie before us.
I went to Istanbul with great anticipation to present my paper, to
meet fellow scholars from around the world, to reunite with friends
and make new ones.
However, I did not expect to be forced to confront my own uneasiness
at the notion of a `Muslim Armenian.'
I did not expect to find myself mourning the pain of fellow human
beings, fellow Armenians.
I did not expect to be moved so deeply, to find myself reaching out
and hugging strangers who didn't share my language, my religion, my
culture, but who nonetheless considered themselves Armenians.
Having encountered Islamized Armenians and their stories, how can my
response be anything other than compassion, acceptance, and love?