How Turkish Nationalism Impacted Everyday Life

Relationships between Turks and non-Muslim minorities deteriorated as Turkish nationalist ideas became law. Veron Dumehjian, an Armenian girl who grew up at the turn of the twentieth century in the Ottoman Empire, remembers how she disgraced her family when she cut her hair in bangs to look like the Turkish mayor's daughter, Lehman.

"You should be ashamed of yourself," Auntie said. "Only Turkish girls wear their hair in bangs. You have brought disgrace upon your family."

As Veron grew older she recognized that the differences between being Turkish and Armenian had taken on a new meaning.

I had never thought about time or change. But slowly changes began to occur. Our lives went on as before, but now our days, which had always seemed to be lit by the sun, were being shadowed by a dark cloud.

For the first time I began to sense the seriousness of our problems with the Turks. I had always known that they were not our friends, even though there were some with whom we were friendly, but now it seemed, in truth, that they were our enemies. We were Christians, and they were (Muslims), but it was not this alone that separated us: we were also different in language, race and custom. We did live on the same soil, but I was told that soil could be owned and that the present owner of this soil, which we had always called home, was Turkey.

Grandma had hinted in the past that there might be trouble between the Armenians and the Turks, but now it was being talked about more openly—not only by her, but by everyone in our quarter. I was told that the Turks had massacred several hundred thousand Armenians a few years before, in 1895, and then again in Adana, in 1909, when I was two years old. And now there were rumors that there would be more massacres. I wasn't sure what all this meant, but I could see that the elders were worried. This made me worried, too, and I began to talk about my fears with the older children. No one could understand what was happening, but I could see that they were uneasy, too. This made me aware for the first time that our fears were not imagined, not childish, but real and deep rooted.

I began to hear whisperings—at home and at Grandma’s, especially at night, when my parents thought we were asleep. But more than their whisperings, it was the way they looked, the way they talked and moved about, that made me know something was wrong. I began to hear words like "deportations," "massacres," "annihilation." I didn't like the sounds of the words, but mostly I didn't like the looks on their faces when they said these words.

It was around this time that the Turkish army drafted my uncles Apraham and Hagop. When I asked Grandma about this, she said something about the World War. ¹

• 1David Kherdian, The Road From Home (New York: Greenwillow Books, 1979), 29-30.