The Modest Approach: Traditional Feminity in Armenia

Preparing a visit to Armenian cities like Gyumri and Shushi oftentimes requires a reevaluation of the standards of female modesty set in the United States.  Our leaders were careful to instruct and remind the women, who comprised the majority of the group, not to smoke in public, not to drink profusely in public, never to walk without male supervision, and in general not to be revealing in either clothing or behavior.  While this task might seem conservative, sexist, or daunting at first, many of the rewards prove to be well worth the temporary adjustment of our social mores.

When walking through a construction site inhabited by men, you could see their conversational approach vary drastically according to their perception of our, and I mean us girls, humility.  Should a woman make prolonged eye contact, or seem too eager in small talk, these men might take advantage of the opportunity to tease and privately mock the passersby.  While this playful banter might be the norm in Los Angeles, I sensed it to be a unique opportunity for the workers to verbally “roughhouse” a few females, as they took great enjoyment out of it.  However, should a woman greet them mildly with her eyes lowered, they would automatically revert to a more respectful attitude.  In that case, you might even hear, “Haziv, mi hat hamest axchik” or “At last, a humble woman,” behind your back after you passed.  I realized that the diasporan women had to try extra hard to break down stereotypes marking us as immodest or, at worst, loose.

Take another example.  A male friend and I called a taxi to take us from Yerevan to Broshian, about a 15 minute drive.  He sat in front, and I took the backseat.  He called the shots, i sat quietly behind.  Within the first few minutes, they had a great conversation going where the taxi driver shared stories of his past, his life, even of his deceased children whose picture he offered to my friend.  By the end of the trip, they were nearly billiards partners, while I was the passenger who offered him a piece of xachapuri on the way.  However, this custom filled me with neither bitterness nor anger, and I instead enjoyed watching the male camaraderie unfold in front of me.  I was still as much a part of the experience, just in my own, feminine way.

I returned to America feeling more like a woman.  Sometimes we tend to misjudge our more-conservative countrymen and countrywomen as stuck in the past, or brush off their lifestyles as completely undesirable.  Yet traveling to Armenia, accepting and adjusting to their standards, teaches you not to be blind to the merits of moderate living.  It isn’t so much that you, a woman, are outcast, but that you are appreciated with a greater femininity than you are in the United States.  Men open doors for you, they pay the taxi fare, they, too, fit the classic roles of chivalry and courtship we seem to have forgotten long ago in this liberal age.  This does not mean, either, that women must sacrifice their personality and leave it behind for a few weeks in order to gain respect.  No.  Finding a common ground between two extremes of social modesty and social freedom, engaging in conversations around these issues, will actually prove a great advantage for the Armenian community at large, both inside and outside the homeland.

Margaret Gabuchian