Tattooing and The Perverse in Armenian Culture, Jadi Darawi

Introduction

In this paper, I will discuss the forced tattooing of Armenian women during the Armenian genocide. I will expand upon current research, which studies this forced tattooing as an isolated event, by comparing tattooing during the genocide to modern day tattooing in Armenia and the Armenian diaspora. From this comparison, I will draw conclusions about feminism and perversion in Armenian culture.

In addition to more traditional academic research, I intend to use artistic creation as a means of analyzing what I have studied and conveying key concepts to my target audience. One of the methodological challenges I have encountered in my research is that many of the sources I have found were not traditionally academic. In fact, this is an issue I have seen more broadly for a range of topics related to West Asian cultures, which I believe is in part due to the strong oral traditions in these parts of the world, as well as the historical lack of access to formal higher education (especially for those who were not wealthy, as was the case in my family). I believe that one benefit to incorporating art into my research process is that I am able to reach a wider audience, particularly older Armenian people, who may not be familiar with or have access to formal academic papers.

Similarly, another methodological challenge I encountered in my research process was the lack of sources on my topic in English. The primary language spoken in Armenia is Armenian, which I do not speak fluently. I am not able to properly conduct research in Armenian, so I rely on the assistance of friends and colleagues, the translations I can find online, and my abilities to understand other languages (namely, French and English). Although this combination of resources has been helpful to me, I must acknowledge that my lack of fluency in Armenian has posed challenges to my research.

Despite these bumps along the way, I am pleased to share this summation of my research, both traditionally academic and more creative, concerning the historical forced tattooing of women during the Armenian Genocide. I believe that this research is necessary for several reasons. Firstly, given the small amount of academic sources I was able to find on this topic, even less of which were in English, I hope this article will add to the overall body of work concerning this topic. Secondly, because of the prominence of oral tradition in Armenian culture, our history is always at risk of being lost to time. When people die, their wisdom, stories, and memories die with them – unless they are recorded. Thus, I find this formal method of recording our history to be critical to ensuring the preservation of our culture. Finally, I believe that the current discourse on tattooing generally assumes that the tattooing was consensual. I intend to make the stories of Armenian women known. Although this may muddy the waters of the discourse around body modification, I hope this will cause people to think more critically about tattooing practices, and perhaps gain new insight into the presence of forced tattooing across time periods and cultures that they may not previously have been aware of.

Author Background

I was curious to research the perception of tattoos in Armenian culture for two key reasons. First, because I have many visible tattoos on my body. As a member of the Armenian diaspora, living in Canada, my tattoos are regarded as normal and often garner compliments when I have them on display. That being said, I have always been aware of the more conservative culture in Armenia, and kept my tattoos somewhat more covered when I travelled there for the first time in 2025. Especially as a young, female-assumed person, I knew that people might view me differently if they saw my tattoos.

Second, however, I also have a deep personal connection to the Armenian genocide through my family. My great-grandmother, a young woman at the time, was enslaved by a Kurdish family and used as their household servant. She was eventually found by her male family members at the end of the genocide and literally bought back. Although I don’t know the details of her experience, or what she looked like, it is sobering to think that she could easily have been one of the women who was forcibly tattooed during the genocide. I don’t find it useful to speculate on whether or not this was the case, because I have no evidence in either direction, but it is nonetheless humbling, upsetting, and inspiring to think about this possibility as I begin my research. I am grateful for the privilege I have to be tattooed by choice, and to live a life that is not hindered by other’s perception of my tattoos. I am grateful for the sacrifices my family made throughout the last hundred years so that my siblings and I could be born and grow up in Canada, a land my ancestors only dreamed of. I work today with the resilience of my ancestors, especially the women, in mind. I hope to do their stories justice, tattooed or not.

Forced Tattooing and The Armenian Genocide

The Armenian Genocide, which occured in Western Asia from 1915 to 1917, was the ethnic cleansing of Armenian people by the Turkish government (Glum 123). Historically, Armenians lived across the region of Anatolia and the southern Caucuses (also known as the Armenian highlands) which are, in the modern day, known as Armenia and Turkey (Howe).

Figure One: A map of Armenian territory at different periods in history (Howe).

Although the Armenians living in modern-day Armenia had more freedom to inhabit that land and practice their cultural traditions, Armenians living in modern-day Turkey were not so fortunate. This land was shared with other people groups, notably Turks and Kurds. The Turkish Ottoman Empire had political control of the region during the late 1800s and early 1900s, and they wanted to have a “pure” Turkish State (Armenia). Similar to the beliefs of Adolf Hitler and other fascist rulers, the leaders of the Turkish Ottoman Empire sought a homogenous culture free of “impurity” – that is, the presence of other ethnic groups living among the land that Turks claimed was theirs alone.

As a result, the Turkish Government perpetrated the Armenian Genocide. Armenians living in the region were either killed or forced to migrate, generally on foot, out of this region (Armenia). Even if Armenians were not killed by the Turks during the initial raids on Armenian villages, many Armenian people died during these migratory periods, which are often referred to as “death marches” for this reason. In total, it is estimated that over 1.5 million died during the genocide, which was between 60 and 65 percent of the Armenian population at that time (Glum 127).

One of the many atrocities that Armenians experienced during the genocide was forced tattooing (Glum 124). Many Armenians, primarily younger women and adolescent girls, were kidnapped by Turkish and Kurdish families and forced to work for them as household servants during the genocide (Glum 127). Some of these women were forcibly tattooed by their Kurdish or Turkish “masters” as a sign of ownership and control over their lives and physical bodies. The tattoos are most commonly seen on faces, necks, and hands (Glum 129). This is both because the cultures perpetrating this violence traditionally had tattoos in these places, and because it was common for people, especially women, to dress modestly. It was important for tattoos in Kurdish culture to be visible, because they were a sign of cultural pride. When these tattoos were forcibly inscribed onto Armenian women and girls, visibility was also important because these tattoos signaled to anyone who saw these women and girls that they were owned. They did not have freedom or control over their own bodies, but rather, they had been claimed by people of another culture.

Figure Two: The design of tattoos that were forced upon Armenian women – hands (Glum 131).

Figure Three: The design of tattoos that were forced upon Armenian women – face (Glum 130).

Although the vast majority of these tattoos on Armenian women were forced, I think it is interesting to note that there were some instances of Armenian women being tattooed during the genocide as a form of protection. On some occasions, these tattoos helped Armenian women to blend in with the communities they were inhabiting, dissuading suspicion that they might be Armenian, and thus a “threat” to Turkish society (Glum 140). Even if they were known to be Armenian, some women and girls were tattooed in order to protect them from violence (often sexual violence) perpetrated by men who would not find them beautiful if they were tattooed.

These incidents of forced tattooing were undoubtedly wrong and harmful in their own right, but their impacts did not end when the genocide ended. On the contrary, Armenian women and girls who had been forcibly tattooed were left with physical marks on their skin, a constant reminder of the trauma they had endured. Furthermore, many of these women were unable to reintegrate into Armenian society. They were often rejected by their communities, shunned for their visible tattoos which were a symbol of the oppressor (Glum 127). Although not physical, this was another form of violent, unjust treatment these women experienced – perhaps even more harmful, in some ways, because it was perpetrated by the people they knew best, who had historically been their friends, neighbours, and even family members. This resulted in cultural isolation for the women who could not reintegrate – they struggled to form strong and healthy social bonds, could not find partners to marry and have children with, and were distanced from their cultural traditions and heritage.

Unfortunately, such incidents of forced tattooing were not limited to Armenians. In fact, there is a painful history of forced tattooing or branding in cultures around the world, including the Herero people in modern-day Namibia, Jewish prisoners in the Auschwitz concentration camp, and Korean women who were living as sex slaves under Japanese colonial rule (Kennedy). Kennedy’s article: “The Jews, The Armenians, The Herero: Tattoos and Genocide,” details some of these comaprisons. Kennedy makes the apt observation that one reason forced tattooing is so egregious is because it adds to the psychological trauma of war and genocide. I would go so far as to say branding or forced tattooing embodies this very trauma. It symbolizes it, a constant reminder to the bearer of what they suffered through, and a sign to those who meet them that they have been “tarnished” by their oppressors.

Kennedy explains that the Herero people who survived the genocide were forced to work for their captors and branded as signs of their imprisonment (Kennedy). “The sight of that tattoo meant that a victim would never be free from the violence of the captors and of their own identity as a prisoner.” Kennedy draws parallels to the Armenian genocide and to the concentration camps across Europe during the Nazi’s time in power. The Auschwitz camp in particular used tattooing to keep track of prisoners, giving them identification numbers. “The tattoos were permanent. For the survivors, they were daily reminders of the atrocities they endured and of global silence in the face of the atrocities.” Kennedy says of these prisoners. “The Auschwitz survivors, the Herero prisoners, and the Armenian women carried the marks of their dehumanization throughout their entire lives.”

Figure Four: An identification number tattooed on the arm of an Auschwitz survivor (Museum).

There are recorded instances of enslaved Indonesian women, known as “comfort women,” tattooing themselves to ward off captors looking to use them for sex (Malay). The tattoos were traditionally associated with marriage, so single women chose to tattoo themselves to give this appearance. They described the physical pain of these experiences and their lack of desire to be tattooed, but the choice was unfortunately worth it to them in order to evade sexual assault perpetrated by their Japanese captors.

Figure Five: The tattooed hands of an Indonesian woman (Malay).

In another horrifying case, many Korean “comfort women,” were enslaved by the Japanese military during the Japanese occupation of Korea in the 1940s (Lee 2). Jung-Ok Sun was one of the “comfort women,” who was forcibly tattooed by Japanese soldiers. She also had her uterus forcibly removed, sterilizing her. Lee’s article “Chosen, Taken, and Returned,” notes that, “Similarly with Holocaust survivors, studies on the long-term effects of physical and psychological trauma on “comfort women” survivors have suggested that persisting health issues are prevalent amongst not only survivors, but their children as well” (Lee 66). Not only did physical branding inhibit the survivors of these genocides from re-integrating into their home communities, but their psychological trauma and the mental conditions that developed as a result of this trauma did too.

Forced Tattooing, Patriarchy, and Perversion

Although forced tattooing has historically occurred across cultures to men and women, during the Armenian genocide, it was majorly women and girls who were branded. This forced tattooing was not only a symbol of the captive culture’s dominance over Armenian culture, but also of dominance over female bodies. While tattoos in the 21st century, especially in the Western world, are largely seen as a symbol of self-expression and ownership over ones own body, this was the opposite of how things were during the genocide.

Many of these women had their bodies sexually violated, in addition to their branding. At best, they were forced to work as household servants without pay or freedom to do as they pleased. Even after they were freed or released from captivity, many Armenian women and girls struggled to reintegrate into their communities because of their visible tattoos (Glum 127).

Armenia has a strong history of patriarchy, or male-dominance in society. Despite the 2013 “Law on equal rights and equal opportunities for women and men” giving women equal rights and legal status in the country, Armenian women still experience inequality in a variety of ways, including government representation, societal and familial expectations, and in the workplace (Armenia Should Intensify). “There is a common saying among Armenian men which says, “You raise a girl only to give her away to someone else. The boy is yours,” (Khachatryan 8). Furthermore, data from the United Nations organization Women Count found that, in Armenia, “women and girls aged 15+ spend 21.7% of their time on unpaid care and domestic work, compared to 4.4% spent by men” (Country). Furthermore, “only 50.8% of indicators needed to monitor the SDGs (Sustainable Development Goals) from a gender perspective were available, with gaps in key areas, in particular: key labour market indicators, such as the gender pay gap and information and communications technology skills.” The full extent of societal gender inequality in Armenia, from pay gaps to positions in government to unfair treatment and domestic violence, cannot be properly studied because of a lack of data.

Besides gender inequality in formal settings, a social atmosphere and deeply entrenched belief that women are not equal to men is something that myself and many of my peers have experienced. This sometimes comes in the form of “kindness,” which is to say, men believe that they are treating women with kindness and respect by not allowing them to do certain things or saying “a woman shouldn’t do that, that’s a man’s job.” However, this is still a form of misogyny, and can manifest in much more harsh ways than this. I have experienced and heard of many instances of women being objectified or treated as purely sexual beings, especially in non-sexual contexts; being pursued without their consent; and generally not being respected as well-rounded adult human beings, but rather, being reduced to their ability to have children or be a homemaker.

Sex-selective abortions are a big problem in Armenia (Khachatryan 8). It’s statistically shown that women have less positions in government and less leadership roles in the workplace compared to men. Also, as a deeply religious country (Armenia was proudly the first country to officially adopt Christianity as its national religion, and 96% of Armenians identify as Christian today), there’s a deep link between religiosity and patriarchy, or “traditional values” (Greppin 15, 2019 Report).

My point here is not merely that women are not truly equals in Armenian society (although this is significant in its own right), but that this inequality is a symptom of a greater issue in Armenia: fear of cultural perversion. Armenian society has historically been very conservative overall, with a deeply held belief in tradition and traditional values. This political and social conservatism is related to the country’s high percentage of religious belief, the vast majority of which is Christian. This conservatism shows up in many facets of life, including the treatment of women, but also of queer and transgender people (the LGBTQ community), of non-Christian people (Muslims, Pagans, et cetera), and of people who have a mixed ethnic background (that is, they are not 100% Armenian). This intense fear of and hostility towards anyone who does not fit a specific idea of a “good Armenian person” can be described by the term “cultural purity.” This idea of cultural purity – and its enemy, cultural perversion – has existed for a long time in Armenia, but has been particularly dominant in the past 100 or so years, since the Armenian genocide and the more recent ethnic cleansing of Artsakh have posed real physical threats to Armenian existence (Shirinian 41).

Many Armenian activities, such as recreational sports, summer camps, church organizations, and university social clubs, are based on an idea of cultural pride. Take Birthright Armenia, for example (Birthright). Although this organization, which is known for organizing trips to Armenia for people who grew up in either parts of the world, has many great reviews and positive impacts on the community (working/volunteering in Armenia, positive travel experiences, people learn the language which is endangered), it is based on this idea of cultural pride. It’s literally in the name – Birthright – the idea that people have a right to see and experience the land because of who their ancestors were. While this is positive on its face, and is certainly not limited to Armenians, this cultural pride can snowball into something much more extreme. Nationalism in Armenia is strong, especially in the post-Soviet period, and can be observed across the political spectrum (Panossian). Nationalism, of course, is inherently discriminatory to anyone who is not Armenian, but it can also hurt Armenians who don’t fit the mould.

Now, you may be wondering: wasn’t this article supposed to be about tattoos? How did we end up talking about ethno-nationalism and right wing extremism? As I mentioned, there is a direct link between Armenian cultural pride and Armenian nationalism. I believe this cultural pride, in its purest, least extreme form, comes from a genuine desire to preserve Armenian culture and history. I have experienced this throughout my life, and it can be incredibly warm, inviting, and inspiring as a youth in the diaspora who wants to feel connected to their heritage. Given the various historical and present-day threats to Armenian identity, it is understandable why cultural preservation is so important to members of this community. When one learns about the nitty gritty details of the Armenian genocide or the ethnic cleansing of Artsakh, for example, we can begin to understand how people become extreme in their beliefs about cultural heritage, purity, and preservation. While this does not necessarily justify extremist actions, it can help us to understand why they happen and what instigates them.

But this intense desire for cultural purity as a means to the end of cultural preservation can lead to a (sometimes extreme) fear of cultural perversion: that is, anything that goes against the strict outline of cultural identity. This can often go beyond genealogy, including how one looks (secondary sex characteristics, skin and eye colour, hair texture, clothing, body modifications), how one acts, how one talks, and even things like career, sexuality, gender identity, religion, and political beliefs. Although I believe that policing genealogy by percentage (i.e., saying that someone who is ½ Armenian is not as Armenian as someone who is fully Armenian) is harmful, this can seem a bit more logical and easy to understand. However, as I mentioned, this policing of cultural identity – who is Armenian enough? What makes someone Armenian or not? What is the right kind of Armenian? – can be much broader, encompassing various different characteristics. In my personal experience, this can become almost like a points system: minus 10 points for being only half Armenian, plus five points for going to Saturday school growing up, plus two points for going to an Armenian church, minus three points for having a tattoo… The list goes on and on.

Although tattoos are becoming slightly more common in the 21st century, they are still not the most accepted by more conservative communities such as those in Armenia. We know that many of the Armenian women who were forcibly tattooed during the genocide were not able to re-integrate into Armenian communities due to their tattoos, which illustrates my point about cultural purity and perversion. Tattoos did not fit the beauty standard for Armenian women at the time, and they were also a symbol of other cultures’ encroachment onto Armenian bodies (which physically represent, or embody, the concept of Armenian identity). This encroachment can also be referred to as “perversion,” which is how I believe many Armenian people viewed these tattoos at the time, and still do today. Although not all Armenians know about the incidences of forced tattooing during the genocide or necessarily think about this historical context when viewing modern tattoos, because tattoos are still less prevalent in Armenia than in other countries, and are more commonly associated with Arab/Bedouin culture or with Western cultures than with Armenian culture, they are viewed as non-Armenian and thus, a perversion to the ideal of Armenian cultural purity, regardless (Gabrielyan).

There is also a religious component to the genocide and cultural perversion. As I mentioned, the vast majority of Armenians are Christian. Turks, Kurds, and Arabs are largely Muslim, and tattoos in particular were a cultural symbol of Muslim people (which was forced onto Christian bodies) at the time of the Armenian genocide. Because the genocide was largely perpetrated by Muslim people in the Ottoman Empire (and to this day, Armenia has several nearby countries that are majority Muslim), this re-inforces the existing bias against Muslims held by many Christian Armenians. This results in Islamophobia, as well as the pervasive idea that Muslim Armenians do not exist or are not really Armenian because they are Muslim.

Although this perception of Muslim people is deeply rooted in trauma because of the Armenian genocide, it can nonetheless manifest as blatant religious discrimination. Armenians at times demonstrate inappropriate condemnation of all Turkish people, or even all Muslim people, simply because they are Turkish and/or Muslim, not because of anything they actually did (MilkChugMaster).

Tattooing and The Future of Armenian Culture

So, tattoos in Armenian culture, past and present, are an example of the “cultural perversion”  so many Armenian people fear. Tattoos can be representative of genocidal trauma, as well as Westernization and modernity. Armenian culture, being rooted in tradition, is naturally in opposition to modernity and anything that is non-Armenian, because this threatens the concept of the Armenian culture and the Armenian identity. However, some Armenians in the modern day are choosing to be tattooed as a symbol of their cultural pride (instagram). This stands in opposition to the pigeonholing of tattoos as Western or Arab (not Armenian) and modern (not traditional). As such, we are left with an understanding that tattoos in Armenian culture can have different meanings for different people and across time periods.

Figure Six: A tattoo design with Armenian cultural significance (haroot_tattoo).

We are able to construct a more complex picture of tattoos and their symbolism over time, and likewise, of the Armenian national identity. Tattoos can help us to better understand the complex and traumatic history of Armenian people and their relationships with other ethnic groups. As an example of “cultural perversion,” and the Armenian aspiration towards “cultural purity” and aversion to anything that threatens this purity, we can see how so many other complicated aspects of Armenian culture and stereotypes Armenians may have about other people, from hijabi Muslims to blonde Americans, fit into this narrative of perversion versus purity.

Conclusion

Now, understanding is great, but what really matters is how we use that understanding to work towards a better world. We could do so much better as a community if we built each other up instead of tearing each other down. We can do so much better. In an already small and insular Armenian community, which has historically faced threats and attacks from various bordering countries, such as Turkey and Azerbaijan, now more than ever it is crucial for Armenians to stick together. We must unite as Armenians, regardless of gender, sexuality, religion, or political belief, and stand in solidarity with one another, and with communities experiencing genocide around the world, against our oppressors.

Author’s Note: Research-Creation

At the beginning of my research process, I chose to incorporate a visual, tangible element in addition to written research. I am pleased to share my textile art piece “Engrained” (Figure 7). The artwork depicts two olive-toned arms, with one’s hand placed on top of the other. The arm on the left is covered by a burgundy sleeve with a lade trim, and the hand is tattooed in the Arab style that was forcibly branded onto Armenian women during the genocide. The arm on the right is tattooed in a modern style with a “constellation” tattoo which I have on my arm, and the hand is bare. Behind the two arms is a wood grain background in shades of brown, and the piece is framed by a red velvet ribbon.

In order to create this piece, I first prepared a piece of unstretched canvas by finishing the edges so they would not fray, and creating a rectangular shape approximately “ by “ to serve as the base for my artwork. I then cut out the shapes of the wood background, shirt sleeve, arms and hands from different scraps of fabric I had at home. I chose coordinating or  embroidery thread colours based on my design goal, and hand stitched the fabric scraps to the canvas base to create a fabric collage. Finally, I cut four lengths of velvet ribbon for the frame of the artwork and stitched these pieces to the canvas. Overall, this process was not very precise, but rather, it was intuitive. For example, although I knew that I wanted two hands and arms holding one another, I didn’t have a specific pattern or even sketch on my fabric before cutting it. I trusted my instincts and allowed the materials I was working with to take on a life of their own, accepting the shapes that resulted even if they were not perfect.

Figure 7: “Engrained,” the artwork I created as part of my research on forced tattooing (Darawi, Photo provided by the author).

The piece is titled “Engrained” as a play-on-words. Tattoos, by nature, are permanently engrained into one’s skin, but the piece also features a wood grain background behind the two people at the centre. “Engrained” symbolizes the permanence of tattoos, both past and present, and the trauma, memories, or pride they may carry with them. Tattoos can be a physical manifestation of so many things for so many people, but because of their permanent, visible, tangible nature, they can never really be forgotten or ignored. The meaning of a tattoo becomes engrained in one’s mind, not just on their skin.

I chose the wood grain background for this piece primarily for artistic reasons. I wanted some kind of background that wasn’t merely a solid colour, and I liked that wood fit the existing colour palette – shades of red and brown. Furthermore, the wood grain adds visual interest to the piece without taking away from the two people at the centre, and the style of the stitching that creates the grain matches that of the stitching on other parts of the piece.

The meaning behind the tattoos that I stitched is fairly straightforward: the person on the left has a traditional style of tattoo, the design of which I pulled from images of forced tattoos (Glum 131). The person on the right has a modern tattoo design – specifically a “constellation” style tattoo, which I have on my own arm.

Figure 8: The “constellation” tattoo I have on my own arm (Photo provided by the author).

The tattoo is not really a constellation, but rather a scaled map of the villages my family migrated through in Western Asia. The large stars represent villages, the dotted lines connecting them represent the paths of migration, and the small stars are for purely aesthetic purposes. The furthest two stars on the right are in modern-day Turkey (Western Armenia), the three stars in the middle are in Syria, and the two stars furthest to the left are in Lebanon.

By showcasing the older and younger generations, with older and newer styles of tattoos side by side, I wanted to represent intergenerational connection and familial bonds, memories, and trauma. This symbolizes a “passing of the torch” of both good things (cultural pride and family stories) as well as bad things (trauma and pain) from one generation to another. However, despite the differences in the tattoo styles, the stigma often faced by people with visible tattoos in Armenia, and the negative associations with forced tattoos, the two people in the artwork are touching one another or holding hands, a gesture of solidarity and love.

This piece, which treats the tattooed bodies as a centrepiece of the art, and has a visible frame or border or red ribbon, is meant to be art. Many of the women who were forcibly tattooed were shunned by their own communities because of how they looked, and likely dealt with internal self-worth and body image issues in addition to the external stigma. This artwork is meant to frame the two people as art, calling them beautiful and putting them on display to be seen and celebrated, rather than hidden or judged. “Engrained” aims to showcase the stories of women who were historically marginalized, making visible their experiences and memories, and celebrating them rather than stigmatizing them.

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