It's a Hard-Knock Life (For a Feminist) Pt. 1

It’s hard enough being a feminist in an environment where people think it’s okay to mock and put down feminist views, but try being all for women’s empowerment in a community that is so counter-progressive that arguing for women’s rights, let alone identifying as a feminist, is virtually unheard of. A community where people still believe that feminism is this radical, scary (and hysterical) movement that is just a passing trend.

I’m talking about the Armenian community, of course.

If you ask any Armenian male if he supports feminism, or ask if he is a feminist, he will laugh nervously and tell you that yes, he believes that women should be treated as equals to men and that he does not discriminate against women in any way. And yet, he still holds on to his patriarchal views dearly. He fully expects his future spouse to embrace stereotypical domestic activities; she will, of course, take his surname without a second thought, and she will also be a virgin.

See, the thing that bugs me the most about Armenian males is how they go on and on about their “wild” sex lives, but still expect their future spouses to be innocent little flowers. If a girl has had multiple sex partners, it diminishes her “girlfriend potential.” Maybe they don’t REALLY expect the woman they marry to be a virgin, but she should at least be able to count the notches on her bedpost with her fingers (on one hand).

It is simply unacceptable for an Armenian girl to indulge in an active sex life. If she does, and if people know about it (God help you), she will be labelled as a slut and her precious image and reputation will be tainted. Personally, I don’t give a fuck about what these people think about me. The same cannot be said, however, for others. The only time I have ever been bothered by someone calling me a slut was when, one time, I made the mistake of enthusiastically discussing sex with a small group of Armenians, most of them male. I was talking about the potential joys of a “friends with benefits” situation, amongst other things, when one of the boys said “Wow, you’re a slut!”, which elicited laughter from the other people in the group. I became silent-it was like a slap in the face. I could feel the shameful blush creeping onto my cheeks and I did not participate in the conversation for a few minutes after that.

Why did it bother me? Because I knew then that my image with these people was now tainted. Maybe in some corner of my mind I was trying to impress these boys with my sexual prowess, and I realised that they do not find a sexually empowered girl to be attractive. The kind of girl they find attractive is the one who is sitting quietly throughout this conversation, the demure daddy’s girl whose greatest sexual achievement is “totally making out with that hot guy at the club last night!” Can you tell I’m bitter?

Armenians and feminism do not mix. It is like oil and water; you cannot be a free-thinking “radical” in a society that values and thrives on ancient traditions.

In which I talk about religion, ex-boyfriends, and Armenians

August 23, 2011:

I experienced the beginnings of an existential crisis after I left high school and entered university. I was utterly confused about some things and surer than ever about others. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, but I knew that I didn’t want to be studying Journalism, nor did I know what would be the next best option. I also didn’t know if I wanted to be in a relationship with my (now ex) boyfriend anymore. What I did know, however, was that I was done living in the comfortable little bubble that my beloved Catholic high school and private Armenian elementary school had built for me, and in an act of defiance-and rebellion-I renounced my Christianity, officially declared myself as an agnostic, and eventually gave up on religion altogether when I became an atheist. I also became involved in political activism and garnered a huge interest in feminism. I was now an atheist, an activist, and a feminist. Yikes.

The biggest leap for me was closing the door on my religion. This is especially a huge deal for an Armenian; after all, Armenia was the first nation in history to declare Christianity as its official religion. But for me, the decision was not only easy, but also essential. After four years of sitting through bullshit religion classes and having to endure insane teachers ruthlessly shoving their beliefs down my throat, I had had enough. Although I loved my high school more than words can say, I left that place cynical, disdainful, and disgusted by religion. Now, I see religion as an important aspect of my culture; I respect it, and I respect the history of it, but I do not see the need to practise it. I do not even mind going to church with my family every once in a while. I participate in the customs: when I enter the church, I light a candle and say a short prayer before listening to the (2 freaking hour) sermon and hymns. To avoid being hypocritical, my “prayers” go something like this: “If there is, by any chance, a god up there, I sure don’t deserve anything from you after all I’ve said and thought about you. But please, if you DO exist, keep my family and my loved ones safe, healthy, and happy. Thanks.”

Before I officially decided to just ditch the façade and be an atheist, I called myself an agnostic—but I was really just a lousy Christian. My ex was an atheist too—which isn’t surprising, seeing as he was born in Communist Armenia--and when we would talk about religion he would go on and on about philosophy and the proofs against the existence of god (he was taking a philosophy class, therefore he thought that made him a philosopher), and it just annoyed me. I would argue in favour of religion just because what he was saying pissed me off, and I wanted to stump him. I wanted to prove him wrong, because that’s what I like doing--proving people wrong. ESPECIALLY him. And I always won (debating was never his forte). It was only after our relationship ended that I realised I really AM an atheist at heart—I only talked myself into being agnostic so that I could piss my boyfriend off. I thought that was pretty damn pathetic, so I finally adopted my true beliefs.

Another big decision I made while in my first year at university was to become more involved in the Armenian community. I’ve always been “involved” in some way or another: I went to an Armenian private school from the age of three to fourteen, I kept in touch with some of my classmates, and I also dragged my ass to a few social events. But I was never involved “behind the scenes”, mostly because I felt like I didn’t fit in. I still don’t fit in, and I never will, but I’ll discuss that later.

I joined the Armenian Students Association at my university, and I immediately loved it… and hated it. I met a few new people who completely turned around my idea of what a typical Armenian is. These people were smart, down-to-earth, and just…different. Well, they were at first. It was only until I a) spent more time with them and b) got involved in some ridiculous, daytime soap-esque drama that I really got to know them. And while they didn’t end up being exactly what I thought they were, they were still a little off-beat—and I liked that. I realised that you just can’t be involved with Armenians and avoid drama. It’s not humanly possible. And as much as I like to argue, I avoid conflict like the plague, which is why I was so surprised when I experienced that true, raw, utterly Armenian drama a number of months ago. It shook me up. It was kind of like an initiation: now, I was truly Armenian.

And so, after a brief period of being tricked into thinking that I had underestimated these people all along, I was back to that familiar feeling: a frustrating combination of love and hatred.  I realised that, as much as I love them, I will never fit in with Armenians. My relationship with my culture is a lot like how my relationship with my ex-boyfriend was: we loved each other deeply, but there were fundamental flaws that kept us from being truly happy. We experienced bouts of euphoric happiness and depression, a veritable roller coaster of emotion. This is exactly how I feel about my culture and my community, except that my ex had the guts to get off the ride and pull the plug—and, when I say he “had the guts”, I do not mean he was right in his decision. You see, the fatal flaw (or greatest strength?) of my character is that I do not know when to quit. For me, quitting is never an option; you ride things through until they get better. The roller coaster has to ease up at some point, right? It’s going to stop being bad. Which is why I haven’t given up on Armenians, and I probably never will. The day I stop being involved with Armenians is the day I quit, and if I quit, well…I would no longer be myself, now would I?

Disclaimer

In this blog, I will be talking about a specific group of people quite often. This does not mean that I think all of those people are like this; it's simply a reflection of my experiences.