Latest / The Story of Armenia: Survival Through Empires and Genocide — Fexingo History / Armenian Women in the Genocide: Survival and Resistance
Transcript
- Lucas: When we talk about the Armenian Genocide, the historical record is heavy with battles, treaties, and the cold mechanics of state-sponsored violence. But today I want to shift the lens away from the generals and politicians to the women who walked the roads of death. Lucas: We’ve heard from witnesses like Johannes Lepsius and diplomats like Boghos Nubar, but their accounts often center on the logistics of rescue or the legal definitions of crimes against humanity. What happened in the shadows, in the caravans moving toward the Syrian desert? Luna: The death marches themselves are almost too vast to comprehend individually. Lucas: Exactly. And within those caravans, the women became the primary protectors of life itself. They weren't just victims; they were strategists of survival, managing resources, hiding children, and maintaining a fragile sense of community under constant threat from the Teskilat-i Mahsuse units. Lucas: One of the most poignant sources comes from the memoirs of Mariam Vardanian, who survived the march from Trebizond to the interior. She describes not just the physical hunger, but the psychological warfare used to break their spirit. Luna: Did they have any way to communicate or resist during those marches? Lucas: Resistance took many forms, some violent, like the defense of Musa Dagh, but mostly it was subtle. It was in the secret baptisms performed by firelight, in the songs sung to distract children from their pain, and in the sharing of meager rations. These acts were rebellious because they affirmed that they still existed as a people. Lucas: The destination for many was Der Zor, a place that became synonymous with the killing fields. But for others, it was a transit point toward places like Ras al-Ain, where conditions were slightly less lethal, though still brutal. Luna: How did they keep their identity alive when everything around them was being erased? Lucas: Through memory and language. Since written records were confiscated or burned, oral tradition became the vessel for history. Mothers taught their children the names of their villages, the prayers in Grabar, and the stories of their ancestors. This preservation was an act of defiance against the goal of total assimilation or annihilation. Lucas: It’s worth noting that while the Ottoman government aimed to disperse the population, the sheer density of Armenian women in these groups created informal networks of mutual aid. They pooled water, shared warmth, and protected each other from sexual violence whenever possible. Luna: That kind of collective care must have been exhausting physically and emotionally. Lucas: It was. And the trauma didn't end when the marching stopped. Many survivors ended up in orphanages run by organizations like the Near East Relief, which was heavily supported by American donors. Lucas: Johannes Lepsius, the German missionary we mentioned earlier, documented the scale of these orphanages. He saw thousands of children separated from their families, carrying the weight of loss without having the words to process it. Luna: Did the survivors ever find a way to reconnect or heal together? Lucas: Reconnection was rare, but healing happened in diaspora communities. In places like Aleppo, Beirut, and later in Los Angeles, women formed societies to support each other. They established schools and churches, rebuilding the social fabric that had been torn apart. Lucas: There’s a powerful image from post-war testimonies of women gathering in secret to read from banned Armenian texts. Even if they couldn't publish them, they could recite them. This intellectual resistance kept the language alive when it was illegal to speak. Luna: It sounds like they turned memory into a weapon of survival. Lucas: Precisely. And this legacy of resilience influenced future generations, including those involved in the political movements that emerged later, like the Dashnaktsutyun party, which sought to secure justice for these atrocities. Lucas: We often think of justice in terms of courts and verdicts, like the trial of Soghomon Tehlirian in Berlin, but for these women, justice was simply the ability to survive and bear witness. Luna: Their stories feel so urgent even now, given what we see in conflicts today. Lucas: They are. The mechanisms of dehumanization haven't changed much. Understanding the specific role of women in these historical traumas helps us recognize the patterns of violence and the unique ways communities resist it. Lucas: If you've been stepping into history with us episode by episode, helping us keep this space free of commercial interruptions means we can continue to tell these complex, human stories without distraction. Luna: It’s a privilege to hear these voices preserved so carefully. Lucas: And if you’d like to support that choice directly, you can find us at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Every contribution helps us dig deeper into the archives and bring you more of these conversations. Luna: Thank you for keeping this network independent and focused on truth. Lucas: Back to Mariam Vardanian’s account. She described a moment near the Euphrates where a group of women refused to let their children drink from contaminated water, even though thirst was driving them to madness. Lucas: They waited until dawn, trusting in the hope of finding safe wells, rather than risking illness that would weaken them further. It was a calculation of long-term survival over immediate relief. Luna: That level of discipline in the face of such suffering is incredible. Lucas: It was. And it wasn't just about physical health. By denying the perpetrators the satisfaction of seeing them collapse from preventable diseases, they maintained a shred of dignity. The Teskilat-i Mahsuse wanted chaos and despair; these women provided order and endurance. Lucas: Historians like Raphael Lemkin, who coined the term genocide, noted that the destruction of a group involves both its physical elimination and its cultural eradication. The women’s refusal to forget was a direct counter to the latter. Luna: So their daily acts were actually part of a larger historical resistance. Lucas: Absolutely. When we look at the aftermath, we see that the Armenian community in the diaspora remained cohesive precisely because of these efforts to transmit culture and memory. The institutions built by Near East Relief laid the groundwork for modern Armenian-American identity. Lucas: It’s a reminder that history isn't just made by those who sign treaties or lead armies. It’s made by those who choose to remember when forgetting would be easier. Luna: It changes how I think about what constitutes 'strength' in history books. Lucas: That’s a vital perspective. Strength isn't always loud or visible. Sometimes it’s the quiet decision to teach your child a prayer in a forbidden language, or to share a crust of bread when you have none left. Lucas: As we close this chapter on the genocide, let’s carry forward the understanding that survival was an active, creative, and fiercely defended act for these women. Luna: I’m glad we gave them the space to tell their side of the story. Lucas: Me too. Next time, we’ll look at how the Armenian literary tradition adapted in exile, turning grief into art that still resonates today. Luna: I’m looking forward to hearing how literature became a refuge.