"I can't believe I've never been inside," I remarked to my wife as we entered the Museum of the History of the Armenians of Cilicia in her native town of Nor Hachn. I was familiar with the memorial, designed in 1974 by architect Rafael Israelyan, and knew that it housed a museum. Nevertheless, I'd never visited. That day, we got lucky. The curator, a kind woman named Hayastan Simonyan (yes, that's her actual name), was in town and actually postponed an early visit to Yerevan just for us.
 

"Not many people visit. So, I consider it a privilege when someone does. Especially someone who's married to our beautiful Tatev," she smirked and winked as she invited us in. The museum was much bigger than it looked from the outside. It had been recently renovated, but still showed signs of distress. "If I could talk to Rafael Israelyan today, I'd ask him why he decided to build this museum on the slope of a gorge. The land slides here, and that has damaged the building's structure over time." You could tell how passionate Hayastan was about the museum. And for good reason…
 

Memories from a Familiar Past
 

The Museum of the History of the Armenians of Cilicia, established in 1978, houses precisely that: the history of the Armenian Kingdom of Cilicia, as well as the culture and traditions of that region. It's also focused on Hadjin, the town after which Nor Hachn is named. Like most museums based outside of Yerevan, it receives little state funding. It's financed mostly by private donations, often from the diaspora. Unlike many regional museums, it is well-maintained and cared for, thanks to its curator.
 

Hayastan took her time to explain everything in detail, how each piece was acquired, and where in Cilicia it came from. You could tell that every artifact displayed there told a story, a very human story. It reflected a period of Armenian history that is inked in tragedy, genocide, and resistance. After giving us the tour, she waited until we soaked all that history in. Little did we know, she had been saving the most interesting part for last.
 

A Crash Course on Hadjin's History
 

As mentioned before, Nor Hachn in the Kotayk region of Armenia is named after Hadjin, a town in Cilicia. In the early 20th century, it was home to a population of around 30,000 Armenians. Today, not a single Armenian remains in Hadjin, which is now known by its Turkish name, Saimbeyli. This was the fate that befell many Armenian towns and villages as a result of the Armenian Genocide. That being said, Hadjin's history goes further back and is marked not only by violence but also by perseverance.
 

In 1909, six years before the major ethnic cleansing of Armenians from what is now modern-day Turkey, Hadjin and its surrounding towns (most notably Marash) became the epicenters of the Adana massacres. This resulted in the death of 5000 Armenians in Hadjin alone, and the violence eventually took the lives of 20,000 to 30,000 ethnic Armenians, as well as 1,300 Assyrians. The remaining inhabitants of the area, including Hadjin, were exiled from their native lands.
 

A Brief Return
 

In 1916, a year after the Armenian Genocide, the Ottoman empire had fallen, and its troops had withdrawn from Cilicia. As a result of this, about 8000 Hadjin Armenians returned to their native lands under the French Protectorate. Diaries from this period illustrate the joy of the returnees. However, this joy was short-lived. In 1919, Turkish nationalism was at its peak, and the fires once again reached Hadjin.
 

By March 1920, the French garrison in Hadjin, which had acted as a safety net, withdrew. Kemalist troops surrendered the town, and those remaining in Hadjin took up arms against them. Outnumbered and outgunned, these brave men and women accomplished a seemingly impossible feat that became known as the Self-Defense of Hadjin, lasting until October of 1920. On the 15th of that month, Hadjin eventually fell. Its inhabitants were brutally slaughtered. Out of the 8000, only 387 survived, escaping, resettling in different corners of the world, and forming the Armenian diaspora we know today.
 

From Plight to Perseverance
 

The common narrative of the Armenian Genocide and the events that preceded it is often marred by anguish, and rightly so. However, what happened in Hadjin forces us to look beyond that narrative and to acknowledge not just the loss, but the survival of the Armenian people. A testament to this is a tiny object housed at the Museum of the History of the Armenians of Cilicia, next to hundreds of survival stories. In fact, it's so small, you might miss it. We sure would have, because it's very unassuming: a fragment of a bullet, encased in glass.
 

"This here," said Hayastan, "is the most prized possession of this museum. A Kemalist soldier fired this bullet at one of the 387 survivors in Hadjin, a woman, as she was fleeing. She was quite young at the time. The injury she sustained wasn't fatal, but the bullet remained lodged in her body throughout her life. When she finally passed away due to old age, she instructed her family to remove the bullet because she didn't want to be buried with it. She wanted it here, at this museum, in the town named after Hadjin, a place that was impossible for her to forget. And so, here it is, a testament to her survival."
 

By the time Hayastan had finished her story, I had goosebumps all over my body and tears in my eyes. The bullet fragment seemed to tie everything in the museum together. Not far from it was a framed copy of the Tavros Armenian newspaper in Adana, dated October 14, 1920. On the first page, in bold letters, was written "Hadjin is no more." A multitude of emotions rushed through me: grief, heartbreak, anger, longing, pride. Noticing this, Hayastan gave me yet another devastating fact. "Out of the 387 that survived, only 7 were women. And she was one of them." My jaw dropped in disbelief. What were the odds? To survive such a horrendous period in history, build a life, give birth to an entire generation…
 

Remembrance is Resistance
 

The story we heard in Nor Hachn that day is one of millions. Each name, each victim, each survivor had a story to tell. They lived lives. Most were cut short, some pushed through. That's the thing about the Armenian Genocide. When we fixate too much on grief, we tend to overlook the human aspect behind it. As the 111th anniversary of our nation's greatest tragedy approaches, we must realize that remembrance is resistance. It doesn't matter how many years have passed. The minute we begin to dilute the issue, we do a disservice to every victim and every single person who lived to tell the tale. The survivors didn't have the luxury of forgetting those bleak days, and neither should we. After all, the person who is reading this article is likely the descendant of an Armenian Genocide survivor. Most diasporans are.
 

Hayastan went on to tell us that many descendants of Hadjin Armenians visit the museum and have contributed greatly to ensure that it keeps running. She also showed us a comprehensive book that she had published about the historic town, and how she tracked down many of the survivors.
 

"We must understand that after forcibly leaving their native lands, these people lived full lives and had families. I think that we shouldn't close the loop with their stories, but rather continue by showing how they overcame that dark period in history. Their bloodline is still alive. There's still a lot of work to be done, such as preserving the Hadjin dialect. Not many people speak it these days. I don't want us to focus only on the loss. I want us to think about survival and how we, as Armenians, have it in ourselves to survive even the harshest times."
 

We signed the museum guestbook before leaving. Hayastan left with us, locking the doors on the way out before leaving for a seminar in Yerevan. "I have to sit down," I told my wife. At the entrance of a museum I had just discovered, next to a monument to Hadjin, I sat down on a bench, head in hand, trying to make sense of it all. Perhaps I never will. I thought about the bullet, the images of the Armenians in different parts of Cilicia. I thought about my own roots as a repat. I reached the same conclusion I always reach when I think about this topic: remembrance is resistance. I strongly suggest visiting this museum in Nor Hachn the next time you're in Armenia. Make sure to book a meeting before you do, so Hayastan is there. There are no excursions, but I'm sure she'll happily guide you if she has the time.