Pre-Departure

#1: A Brief Intro: Borders + Identities + Education

Exactly a year ago, I paced back and forth in this very living room sketching ideas - what do I have to tell the world about Armenian borders, identities, and education?  Living in one of the most contentious spaces in the southwest United States, it’s hard to avoid these three concepts!  Or perhaps these concepts resonated with my upbringing as an Armenian-American allowing me to appreciate the stories and struggles of the Mexican and Indigenous Communities. 

For me, I’ve been thinking about these concepts for a very long time where historical conflicts remain unresolved and over 82% of Armenia’s national borders are closed.  However, my borders extend far beyond Rhode Island! My grandparents lived in the Ottoman Empire specifically in Eastern Turkey prior to the Genocide of 1915 - my father’s side in Palu and mother’s in Berecik. They were born in Haleb and later moved to Beirut like many Armenians of their time. My family eventually settled in Rhode Island where I grew up.

Crossing and confronting borders: a popular dinner table discussion

• Did they cross the border safely? 
• What did they ask at the border?  
• What is your nationality?
• Where are your parents from?
• In 2012, when US authorities debated how I would reach Nagorno-Karabakh for my fieldwork - one suggested to provide special security upon arrival in Baku - but identities and borders made the decision for me;
• ~1915, somewhere in the Der Zor desert - between Turkey and Syria - where many of my ancestors lost their lives - Vartouhi Palandjian was rescued  but her mother and brother never made the trip;
• In 2016, when my mom's choregs concerned the TSA - 
• Or in 2008,  when my hairdryer worried Armenian authorities;
• When my sister and I pretended to be part of an American band performing in Beirut to entertain the cute Lebanese border patrol officers and sang, “Habibi ya nour el ain”;
• In 2005, putting my hand in and out of the barbed wire of no man's land between Armenia and Turkey while standing in Shirak region and clearly upsetting my study abroad instructor - but I was testing the borders.
• In 2015, leaving my friend behind at the border - perhaps due to his Syrian passport/identity;
• On the ferry ride along the Bosphorus - sailing between the Asian and European continents - I watched what appeared to be a father disciplining his daughter in Turkish and yet, in a way that reminded me of my father and childhood;
• In February 2013, participated in a cross-border initiative of Armenians and Azerbaijanis, and I was "the diasporan";
• In 2003, when I first saw Turkish sunflower seeds in Armenian markets and questioned how it was possible to find Tadim in Yerevan when the borders are “closed”?
• In January 2016, working on an Armenian and Turkish history textbook project when a Kurdish participant renamed the "Sultan's favorite dish" as "the diasporan's favorite" simply because I enjoyed that meal very much!

This list could be longer...but it was one year ago, in the summer of 2018 where I found myself flipping through Gloria Anzaldúa’s Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza trying to better connect through the stories and learn from the experiences that I heard: how the border crossed the Native peoples of these lands - not the other way around.  I’ll admit that while I have not fully understood all of her work (yet), Gloria’s writing inspired me to recognize the borders in which I dwell, and more importantly, to Border Thinking.  That summer, in my living room I traced the Green Line that divided Greek-Cypriots and Turkish-Cypriots through Christou & Spyrou (2014), followed Grinberg (2014) with the Palestinians and Children of the Junction, and contemplated what a “post-conflict” space would look like in Belfast with McKnight & Leonard (2014).  To me, it became clear that there is room on the shelf to add another story about borders, identities, and education - right on top of Staying with the Trouble.