Jailbreak

You know, sometimes I compare myself to Cinderella. Not just myself but other Azerbaijani females. We all begin alone, learning how to cook and clean, how to talk and walk the right way, what to wear or what to buy. We become these well-trained puppies, and life accomplishments are our 'Good Girl!' and treats. Finishing school, getting into a university, caring about a career, hoping to fall in love and get married, leave the house and move on in your life.

I feel like we're robots and yet I'm the only one left out - some sort of a mutant. We're taught to respect our elders and always do as told, yet no one teaches us that a family is a two-way street where communication and respect are the musts. No one tells us that whenever you speak to input something, maybe an opinion - it's looked as a disrespectful gesture. It's a 'you either go my way or die way' kind of a game and in order to survive, you must learn to play.

Living in the West has definitely shown me the true meaning of a family. Yes, we do learn from our elders, keeping them as Royals in our minds yet the West has their family contributing to one another. Learning from one another and having a special kind of a communication. They hear one another and speak in order to grow. There's a friendship between the children and the parents in which I somehow wished I could have experienced at home.

I'm 20 currently, raised with Azerbaijani beliefs yet all I want is to come home one day and feel a friendship between my mother an I. I want to see freedom yet to the limit of respect. No one is saying to scratch a culture, all I want is an understanding environment. All I want is that at times, my emotions are taken into consideration. That when something is misunderstood, talking about it won't cause more tension. All I want is the ability to not want to move out.

I can't really blame this on anyone or anything, all I can do is improve myself and improve my control of emotions.

I guess I'm somewhat in need of a jailbreak.

I'm in need of that connection.

That Need.

The True Colors,

“The rights of every man are diminished when the rights of one man are threatened.”  - John F. Kennedy

On January 22, 2014 friends of Isa Shakhmarli were greeted with an online suicide note written as a status on Facebook. “This country, this world is not my place to be”  part of the note said.

Isa Shakhmarli, a 20 year old young homosexual living in Azerbaijan was found dead after reportedly hanging himself using the symbolic rainbow-colored flag of the gay pride movement. Shakhmarli was the leader of the Azad LGBT (Free Lesbian Gay Bisexual and Transgender) society in Azerbaijan.

“I’m leaving. Bless whatever you’ve done for me. This country, this world is not my place to be. I’m leaving to be happy. Isalam Seferli 59 – I’m leaving the door open. Let my mother know that I love her a lot. It’s everyone’s fault! This world isn’t strong enough to carry my colors. Farewell.”

Facebook went wild after the news came out about Shakhmarli's suicide. Articles on different news sites were published informing of the suicide, even though Azerbaijan does not support homosexual activity. Comments varied from people writing how it's unfair that the mentality and culture of Azerbaijan doesn't let people of any orientation live freely including people who were straight, to people mentioning the fact that Shakhmarli hung himself on purpose - knowing how much talk and discussion he'll achieve after his death, which apparently what the Azad LGBT Society needed. 

Most commentators being homophobic, support the death of Shakhmarli calling it "one less of many to go" in which they were all content with. Even if people don't support homosexuality, what happened to humanity? How could people be happy for the fact that someone - an innocent individual, killed himself because he didn't feel safe or he was just tired of everything happening to him?

Homosexuality is defamed in Azerbaijan, causing many gays and lesbians experience constant harassment, attacks and lack of support from family and friends after becoming clear about their orientation. Many get kicked out of their homes causing them to rent a place on their own or in worst case scenario – live on the streets. The gay society is constantly greeted with various comments either while walking on the street or on social media - from mean phrases to death threats.

Why?

Many societies around the world have grown up and evolved thinking that the traditional marriage where a man marries a woman, is the right and the only correct way to love and to marry. The eyes of the people in these societies are not accustomed to the fact that same gender couples are showing affection to each other, or men being more feminine and women being more masculine. These people imagine all gays wearing female clothes and talking like a woman, in which as they get accustomed and welcomed to the gay society, they notice that not all LGBT are about their image. Most act and talk like their normal self yet all they care about is the freedom to love and to be happy with their special other.

Yet, if someone only wants to live peacefully, why get the constant hate and harassment? Why do people only support something when its on the spotlight instead of it being the case beforehand? People tend to show their support and agreement only if it's under discussion, being scared that they're support might get shut down by the society any other time.

We lack respect and the ability to understand one another. We forgot how it feels to show humane actions when one is in need of support and help. One only thinks about oneself and how something might affect oneself in the future.

Not only do we lose individuals lacking support of any kind, we keep losing bits of humanity.

May you rest in peace, Isa Shakhmarli and many other individuals lacking support.

You will all be remembered.

You know you’re an Azerbaijani when…

Your mother gets mad at you for getting sick

Drinking tea isn’t a choice, it’s a life style

You feel at home when you see people with gold teeth

You stop everything you were doing when you hear someone mention Azerbaijan

 You spent over 100 dollars on a phone number that “looks cool”

You spent more on a license plate number than you do on your car

  

You spend 30 minutes explaining to your foreign friends how to pronounce Azerbaijan correctly

Pictures of you are only taken from a professional camera and a "very" professional photographer

You secretly miss the voice screaming outside your window “XLOR VAR XLOR!”

You can eat pomegranate in an unlimited amount and never have enough

∆ Huge Thank You to the “Azerbaijani Students Studying Abroad” Facebook Group for ideas!

Homeless,

- Where are you from?

- Azerbaijan

- Oh, and your home is here in Puerto Rico?

- No, I'm homeless

Sometimes when I really think about it, I can't find an answer to the question "Where is your home?" The tension between that question and I becomes too tense and so tight that I break down. Before answering anything, I define the word "home" and what it truly means. To me, a home is somewhere where you can somehow connect memories to, visit the place and automatically feel comfortable, and just get that feeling. The problem is that Azerbaijan, Canada and Puerto Rico somehow connect my memories with itself and I feel somewhat comfortable in all three countries, and in neither of them do I get that feeling.

It's hard to somehow consider yourself homeless because you do want to have that home feeling and to know for a fact there's a place on Earth where you truly belong. In Azerbaijan, I feel more of an American-Canadian because I do look at things in a different way that may seem strange. I believe in self-protection in which I will comment back with a rude phrase if someone bothers me, in which not a lot of young girls do. I don't want to find that rich guy to get married - I'd rather be happy and get rich myself. I mean, there are so many social ideas and standards that I just find too conceded and too tense for my life, but that doesn't mean I don't respect my nation. I love going to Azerbaijan and knowing that I can talk in the language I was brought up talking, the mentality I was brought up to have, and the culture I was brought up to follow. It's a place close to heart, yet so strange.

In Canada, I feel more of an immigrant in which makes it much easier because most people living in Canada are immigrants and do know what the other is going through. Canada is a little bit of both worlds, having so many Azerbaijanis living there yet having that American lifestyle. Canada was indeed a place where I grew up hating myself - constant bullying, harassment, and trying to fit in. I remember how the kids made fun of me because I didn't wear the recent sweater from American Eagle or Hollister, calling me "The Second Hand" girl - yep, that's me! I really didn't want to spend fifty dollars on a sweater with a horrible fabric, my mother taught me better. Nevertheless, living in a place for six years, you tend to somehow make it a place you know and relate to. A place where you can connect again and find yourself all over again.

In Puerto Rico, it's a whole different story. I went to a private school with uniforms in which girls would shorten their skirts to look hotter or if you didn't roll up the sleeves of your white shirt a few times, you'd be a loser. The Nixon watch was a must have for you to be considered a non-gringo (not an American). Puerto Rico is a very patriotic territory even though it is part of the States. It's a bitter sweet feeling living on the island - you feel like a stranger yet you feel home. The Puerto Ricans do remind me a lot of Azerbaijanis - patriotic, fun, family-bonded, loud and energetic. Speaking English on this island won't help you much other than get you some weird looks and someone saying "Ay! Que Gringo!" (What an American, Gosh!) - patriotism.

Even though being patriotic is a good thing, I sometimes tend to be proud of the three countries at once. I stand up for all three when something is discussed and let's be honest, if I didn't move to Canada nor Puerto Rico, I wouldn't be a successful polyglot now, wouldn't I? Being homeless somehow makes you unique and one of a kind. I might be homeless but I'm wealthy with knowledge and a mindset. 

Something personal

There’s a huge difference between having friends that are in the same country as you and having friends that are on the other side of the world. There’s also a difference between having friends that are from the same nation as you are and those who aren’t.  These differences might not really have such an effect on people but to someone like me, it’s a huge deal. Let’s elaborate.

I live on an island where there’s nearly no immigrants, mostly Puerto Rican. There’s no Azerbaijani living here other than my parents and a few elderly people. Puerto Ricans don’t understand that a girl shouldn’t be out after 12 or 1 at night, shouldn’t go out a lot, and “asking your parents” for permission simply isn’t an option because you already know the answer.  All you want is someone to go to the city with and relax and have a coffee, someone to sit down and enjoy the evening drinking tea with lemon. Someone who understands Azerbaijani cuisine and enjoys samovar tea. You want someone who can somehow understand your frustration when you talk about personal problems without having comments like “But they’re in Azerbaijan! Get over it!” – you can’t get over it, because even though your friend is in Azerbaijan and you’re farther away, you still care. You care a lot.

I know I’ve lived far from Azerbaijan for too long to even fit in there, but the feeling I got from when I was in Azerbaijan this summer was speechless. I was speechless of constant calls and text messaging, wondering how I was and what I’ll be doing later on that evening. I was speechless of having a place to go other than my own home like to my aunt’s or granddad’s place. I felt like the city I was born in was finally enjoying my presence or better yet, I was enjoying its presence.

You know it’s perfection when your best friend calls you and tells you she needs to talk to you and you have to meet her outside in somewhat minutes, other than “get on Skype!”  I felt like the people surrounding me that summer, could be the people I might love and care about for the rest of my life.

I know that most of the attention or love shown was because I haven’t seen them in a while and it’s all temporary, but seeing my friends in person is good enough for me than seeing them on Skype or seeing constant statuses and check-ins on the social sites.

I’m thankful for my Azerbaijani friends who live not only in Azerbaijan, but in other parts of the world too. You all make me somehow less lonely and less alone, even though it is hard. I’m not saying that I have no friends in Puerto Rico, but I am saying that I have no soul mates here.

Thanks for being my friends and family. Even though it doesn’t mean a lot, it means a ton to me. Might be too dramatized, but I do feel somehow happy with all of you in my life. 

Faded Love

All I can read about on the internet or hear in every song is how people are either happy about love or how someone broke their heart. I got to admit, it's a good topic to talk about - all can somehow relate. I began reading different stories of how couples have met or what really got them attracted to their "the one", and it got me thinking. Love in Azerbaijan. When I started thinking about it, a couple of main topics came to mind: physical love, emotional love, and financial love. Don't get me wrong, these topics are concentrated everywhere but somehow the 'financial' love is a little more concentrated in Azerbaijan, in my opinion.

Physical love is mostly for the people in Azerbaijan who fall in love with the physical appearance. Some like the Caucasian look (I speak of men) - black hair, muscular, strong, strict while some like the European look - lighter skin, relaxed, more layed back. There are many types, don't get me wrong, but since we live in a Caucasian country, our men and women are of the Caucasian look. Women fall in love with men who are look like the physical version of a "well payed gentleman", to some maybe to feel safe or have that image - for the society. Factors like the clothes he/she wears, the cars they drive, what stores they shop at - all is physical. Which takes us to financial love, since without money, your physical image might lack also. But before we get to financial, let's talk emotional.

Emotional love is when you're attracted to the person on an emotional level. You love the way they laugh, make conversation, the way they think - intelligence. Isn't that what truly love is? An emotional connection, feeling dependent of the other. I mean, we don't think about anything except that person. No money, no image is associated with love, in this case. We love because we feel, not because we see. Nothing is fake, all is pure. Pure love - or is it?

When I was in Baku, I heard a lot about the financial love more than I did about the Eurovision that was hosted in Baku (it was a big deal!) I mean, the topic of finding the one is much more interesting than anything political, economical, or social happening in the country. Financial love is when you fall for the person because of money. Questions like how much they make, who the parent's are and if they're rich, what type of car they drive, how may apartments they own and where. We call this life, ladies and gentlemen. Women try to talk to men who have some sort of a future, they say. By these standards, men who don't have their money given to them yet, are not set for their future - what happened to progress? Success?

I'm not blaming women completely, because men have also began to start the trend with the financial love. They start wondering if the girl's family is rich enough and if they can support and help out. I mean, I understand in the world we're living at the moment, having enough money to support one self is quite important, but what happened to the true meaning of love? Connection between two people? 

Does love still exist in the world today? 

My parents' were lucky to find true love, I'm sure yours did too. But what about us?

What about love?

Time Travelling to Childhood

My life became somewhat blurry with constant questions in my head after a recent trip to the country I was born in – Azerbaijan. It’s been three years since I've visited, but for some odd reason, this time was different. This time I had the freedom to see the city by my own eyes, touch the nature by my own fingers, and smell the odor of the Caspian Sea while taking an evening walk in the Boulevard.

Childhood was over for me when I moved from Baku at the age of nine. I let go of my relatives, my school, my house, my city – my country. I left at such a young age that when thinking about where my home was, I couldn't answer myself until this summer. My trip was scheduled for the end of May until mid-July. From wedding organizations to relative visits, I felt comfortable. I found myself enjoying the language spoken around me, enjoying the city view in person rather than by pictures, and finding the answers to my unanswered questions.

The Akhundov Park located right beside my house. The
park that witnessed me grow up.

Unlike others who moved away at such an early stage of their lives, I still remembered the streets that I walked on, the language I heard and talked, the culture I lived by. I know, no matter where I move to, I’d always have that hole in my heart. That hole or the unfilled space, however you want to call it. I don’t want to call myself unhappy because I’m not, but I sure was happier when I visited Baku.

I had that feeling of warmth tingle all over my body because everywhere that I went to, I could remember a childhood connection somehow. Even though I haven’t visited myself and haven’t walked the city streets independently, I knew how to get to any place I wanted to. The constant memories swirled inside my head. I went time travelling back to childhood.

The Maiden Tower in the Old City, "Icheri Sheher"

I want the beauty in almost anything I saw in the city. People living outside of a country, tend to see the things not everyone sees every day. Not everyone could feel the feeling of home because they never were apart. The furniture in my house brought warmness, from the bed I used to sleep in when I was a kid to the kitchen sofa. I remember how my father called one evening and brought the sofa specifically for the kitchen. How he would take my plush dog toy and use it as a pillow and watch T.V. by lying down on that sofa.  I sat on that sofa every morning before school to quickly memorize the poems written by the famous Russian author, Pushkin. Memories...

This was the first time my parents gave me the freedom to hang around Baku by myself or with my friends. I didn't feel stranded by the sidelines of my parents, I had the opportunity to live and breathe. I felt home and I knew no one could say anything about it.

Where is my home? My home is where I feel comfortable and not feel like an immigrant. At the moment, that’s Azerbaijan. I know that every time I’ll go for a visit, I’d have some kind of a soul cleansing process or maybe just another shot at time travelling, who knows?