Armenians.
Genocide, the systematic extermination of one people by another, always includes a phase of dehumanization that links those who will be eliminated with animals, diseases, vermin — things humans have permission to kill. Genocide ends when denial ends. Healing involves finding our shared humanity, achieving justice for the harm done, and finding the space in our hearts to forgive.
Acknowledgments
Though always a voracious reader, I came to writing late. Writing is never a solitary act, but depends upon the insights and responses of others. I have been fortunate to have such varied, wise, and generous others in my life.
My first forays into creative writing were sustained by writing retreats filled with conversations about craft. Heartfelt thanks to Mary Atkinson, Franny Billingsley, Toni Buzzeo, Jennifer Jacobson, Sarah Lamstein, Cindy Lord, and Carol Peacock for inspiration and guidance, and for sacred writing time and space. Sarah Aaronson, Katie Bayrel, Ann Cardinal, Nicole Griffin, Kate Hosford, Daphne Kalmar, Adi Rule, and Zu Vincent gave me the faith to continue to revise with the benefit of their insights. From the earliest drafts to the work that this book is now, Jacqueline Davies was my trusted reader and friend.
Sharing writing with Burlington area poets/writers Sarah Bartlett, Sue Burton, Jaina Clough, Lee Ann Cox, Stephen Cramer, Sharyl Green, Marilyn Grigas, Laban Hill, Major Jackson, Jill Leininger, Melissa Pasanen, Grace Per Lee, and Liz Powell shaped the lines of this book. Special thanks to Adrie Kusserow, who also inhabits that liminal territorybetween anthropology and creative writing, and to Beebe Bahrami, who long ago inspired me to enter that space.
Vermont College of Fine Arts transformed me into a writer. Four brilliant advisors — Julie Larios, Tim Wynne-Jones, Rita Williams-Garcia, and Margaret Bechard — mentored me with unparalleled generosity and rigor. Thanks to my stellar workshop faculty, Kathi Appelt, Alan Cumyn, Louise Hawes, Uma Krishnaswami, and Martine Leavitt; my workshop mates; the members of my class, all of whom “keep the story;” and to Jane Resh Thomas, who propelled me toward the program. Every lecture, reading, and moment at VCFA was a gift.
Friends nurtured me throughout this journey, each with their special gifts. Thanks to Emmanuelle Dobbs for always valuing my “arménianité,” and to the Manuelyan family, Hasmik Baghramyan, and the members of Lokum for helping me hang on to it in northern Vermont. Thanks to Fletcher Boote, Paula Duncan, Mary Hill, Jill Lyons, Polly Menendez, Yvette Pigeon, Dianne Shullenberger, Janet Van Fleet, and Martha Whitney for movement, flow, and voice, and to Robert Lair for the abundant tulips.
My Vanetsi brother and genocide scholar, Dr. Harutyun Marutyan, opened doors in Armenia for me and was always ready for a deep conversation about the place of art in social change. Dr. Hayk Demoyan graciously welcomed me into the research library and the community of scholars at the Armenian Genocide Museum and Institute in Yerevan. He, along with Asya Darbinyan, Hasmik Grigoryan, Gohar Khanumyan, Mihran Minassian, and Naira Melisetyan, was particularlyhelpful as I researched the details of this story. Any errors that remain are mine alone. Thanks to Dr. Vahé Tachjian, who directs Houshamadyan, a remarkable reconstruction of life in the Ottoman Empire in 1914. Dr. Rubina Peroomian of UCLA generously shared her wisdom and knowledge with me. Dr. Rouben Galichian kindly shared period maps and his expertise on maps of the region with me. Anna Berberyan and her dance group welcomed me into their midst, shaping the music and dance threads of this story ( Shad shnorhagalutyun, Bari Khoomp! ). Vahan Bournazian guided me on details of Armenian grape growing and connected me with the haunting music of Palu. Through her efforts to improve my Armenian handwriting, Anahit Avetisyan inspired little Mariam to write. I am indebted to the Fulbright
Genocide, the systematic extermination of one people by another, always includes a phase of dehumanization that links those who will be eliminated with animals, diseases, vermin — things humans have permission to kill. Genocide ends when denial ends. Healing involves finding our shared humanity, achieving justice for the harm done, and finding the space in our hearts to forgive.
Acknowledgments
Though always a voracious reader, I came to writing late. Writing is never a solitary act, but depends upon the insights and responses of others. I have been fortunate to have such varied, wise, and generous others in my life.
My first forays into creative writing were sustained by writing retreats filled with conversations about craft. Heartfelt thanks to Mary Atkinson, Franny Billingsley, Toni Buzzeo, Jennifer Jacobson, Sarah Lamstein, Cindy Lord, and Carol Peacock for inspiration and guidance, and for sacred writing time and space. Sarah Aaronson, Katie Bayrel, Ann Cardinal, Nicole Griffin, Kate Hosford, Daphne Kalmar, Adi Rule, and Zu Vincent gave me the faith to continue to revise with the benefit of their insights. From the earliest drafts to the work that this book is now, Jacqueline Davies was my trusted reader and friend.
Sharing writing with Burlington area poets/writers Sarah Bartlett, Sue Burton, Jaina Clough, Lee Ann Cox, Stephen Cramer, Sharyl Green, Marilyn Grigas, Laban Hill, Major Jackson, Jill Leininger, Melissa Pasanen, Grace Per Lee, and Liz Powell shaped the lines of this book. Special thanks to Adrie Kusserow, who also inhabits that liminal territorybetween anthropology and creative writing, and to Beebe Bahrami, who long ago inspired me to enter that space.
Vermont College of Fine Arts transformed me into a writer. Four brilliant advisors — Julie Larios, Tim Wynne-Jones, Rita Williams-Garcia, and Margaret Bechard — mentored me with unparalleled generosity and rigor. Thanks to my stellar workshop faculty, Kathi Appelt, Alan Cumyn, Louise Hawes, Uma Krishnaswami, and Martine Leavitt; my workshop mates; the members of my class, all of whom “keep the story;” and to Jane Resh Thomas, who propelled me toward the program. Every lecture, reading, and moment at VCFA was a gift.
Friends nurtured me throughout this journey, each with their special gifts. Thanks to Emmanuelle Dobbs for always valuing my “arménianité,” and to the Manuelyan family, Hasmik Baghramyan, and the members of Lokum for helping me hang on to it in northern Vermont. Thanks to Fletcher Boote, Paula Duncan, Mary Hill, Jill Lyons, Polly Menendez, Yvette Pigeon, Dianne Shullenberger, Janet Van Fleet, and Martha Whitney for movement, flow, and voice, and to Robert Lair for the abundant tulips.
My Vanetsi brother and genocide scholar, Dr. Harutyun Marutyan, opened doors in Armenia for me and was always ready for a deep conversation about the place of art in social change. Dr. Hayk Demoyan graciously welcomed me into the research library and the community of scholars at the Armenian Genocide Museum and Institute in Yerevan. He, along with Asya Darbinyan, Hasmik Grigoryan, Gohar Khanumyan, Mihran Minassian, and Naira Melisetyan, was particularlyhelpful as I researched the details of this story. Any errors that remain are mine alone. Thanks to Dr. Vahé Tachjian, who directs Houshamadyan, a remarkable reconstruction of life in the Ottoman Empire in 1914. Dr. Rubina Peroomian of UCLA generously shared her wisdom and knowledge with me. Dr. Rouben Galichian kindly shared period maps and his expertise on maps of the region with me. Anna Berberyan and her dance group welcomed me into their midst, shaping the music and dance threads of this story ( Shad shnorhagalutyun, Bari Khoomp! ). Vahan Bournazian guided me on details of Armenian grape growing and connected me with the haunting music of Palu. Through her efforts to improve my Armenian handwriting, Anahit Avetisyan inspired little Mariam to write. I am indebted to the Fulbright
Similar Books
