I Express My Support to Karapetyan's Wife and Daughter, as Well as the Women of Ruben, Bako, and Arayik: Anna Hakobyan

You were born as an ordinary little girl, surrounded by love and care, with a beautiful, comfortable, full, and even luxurious life. This is what Anna Hakobyan, the Prime Minister's wife, wrote.

“Then comes a moment when your small and innocent soul feels that you and your life are covered by some mysterious veil. Then you understand that what is mysterious is actually your judgment, the nightmare whose overcoming will be the great struggle of your entire life. You realize that the person who should have been your greatest protector and support in this world betrayed you long before you were born, exhibiting an unforgivable irresponsibility, eternally placing your innocent and pure soul under the burden of inhuman weight.”

You realize that your father, whom you would like to proudly exhibit to the world, will never come to your parent-teacher meetings, will never hold your hand and take you to the park, will never say fatherly words at your birthday parties, nor will the toastmaster say at your wedding, “And now the most touching moment of the evening is when the daddy invites his beautiful daughter to dance.” You understand, suffer, rebel, become disappointed, fight, and eventually come to terms.

And just when life should have been somewhat organized, with wounds healing and scars forming, the unexpected happens – your right to birth and existence becomes a subject of local and international discussion. Your life turns into a nightmare. The person who was supposed to be your protector completely transforms into your executioner, silently watching as they strike you while only taking care of his own self, his ego, his own perceptions, and his own deeds. People, cruelly using you, expect responsibility, honesty, and virtue from someone who has been the most irresponsible, dishonest, and immoral towards you.

This is a fictional story, both the father and daughter are imaginary characters. But in this fictional story, my deep compassion is directed towards the father who will never have the opportunity to rectify the mistakes he made towards his daughter and to enjoy her pure love and admiration.

In this fictional narrative, I extend my high and unconditional support to the woman whose life has turned into a nightmare. I say to my fictional heroine – in this entire imaginary story, the greatest value for me is YOU, your experiences, sensations, and sufferings. I share with you the burden you have been dealt and want you to know that, for example, my father was unable to protect me any more than yours was able to protect you. In our reality, women are mostly struck, not protected, and in this regard, you have hundreds of thousands of unfortunate co-sufferers.

Since I have begun, allow me to continue until the end. I express my support to Samvel Karapetyan's wife and daughter because when a husband is in prison enjoying the laurels of heroism, the wife suffers and torments a thousand times more. And how daughters love is a well-known fact for fathers.

I express my support to the women of Ruben, Bako, Arayik, and others, who I am sure are forced to face the disdain of their surroundings in this difficult phase of their lives, saying: “Look where your husband is, he talks, rejoices.”

I express my support to Taguhi Tovmasyan, whose appearance has been turned by rude, rough, uncouth, and ignorant men into a means of self-assertion for several years.

I extend my support to female opposition MPs, artists, singers, bloggers, and journalists. I express my support to Anahit Avanesyan, all other female officials, as well as to the wives of male officials who face attacks on their appearance, morality due to their gender, and have no protection from any side.

I extend my support to Nane Israelian, Nane Arzumanyan, and all female journalists who are again under constant attacks from public sentiment due to their political tastes and being women.

I express my support to the soul of the woman who died two days ago from knife wounds inflicted by a mad husband, who now, undoubtedly, does not find peace hearing how the surroundings will likely read the verdict of the incident in the following way: ‘Well, perhaps she drove the poor man crazy.’

I express my support to all women who are subjected to silent violence every day and cannot speak about it because they have no protection whatsoever.

I do not extend my support to the nurturing mothers and grandmothers of Armenia under whose dark skirts the culture of violence is transmitted from generation to generation. They are the ones who encourage their sons and grandsons to subject their own women to violence with their heavy silence and piercing gazes, and more often with direct words, shouting: ‘Shame on you, neighbor; what kind of man are you if you don’t?’

I do not extend my support to men. It is true that they are the first, greatest victims of the culture of violence, but they never try at some stage of their lives to use their brains and understand what has happened to them, when and how. What has happened is that from a young age, they watch how their fathers violent the creatures they love the most in this world, their mothers, longing to protect them but are unable because they are just as defenseless. Naturally, they get angry at their fathers for treating their beloved ones in such a way, but also at their mothers for not being able to protect themselves and their children. Then they come of age and, together with their mothers, take revenge on the young girls – the brides. And this happens under the silent and satisfied gaze of their grandmothers.

This way identities, human fates, and generations are distorted. Education is fashionable. Let us educate ourselves to understand what silent violence is. Let us educate ourselves to understand how violence distorts our lives. Let us educate ourselves to understand how to protect ourselves and our loved ones from violence. Let us educate ourselves and stop being a link in the chain of violence that passes from generation to generation,” she wrote.