Each April 24th, I stop and remember the events of one of the most forgotten and at the same time, most controversial genocides of the 20th century. As an Armenian, even if only a quarter, I grew up with full knowledge of the events, continually astounded as a child by the thought that most people outside my family knew nothing about what happened 103 years ago. Over the years, I have felt increasingly compelled to identify with my Armenian heritage and to spread the knowledge of a nearly forgotten tragic corner of history.

Six years ago this coming June 26th, I changed my last name, took my mother’s maiden name as a way of identifying with my heritage. This one change has opened so many doors, provided numerous opportunities to talk about my name and everything that it represents. For example, I used my name, a single word, to engage my students on day one of this school year.

Three years ago today marked the centennial remembrance of the genocide. Armenians across the world rose up to remember. Many travelled to yerevan to take part in the poignant ceremonies at the memorial in Armenia’s capital. The Pope spoke out, calling the tragedy a genocide and doing so publically. Turkey responded by pulling its ambassador to the Vatican, a largely ceremonial position.

Armenians persisted. The forget-me-not flower became the official symbol of the centennial remembrance. Four parts comprise the flower, each representing an aspect of the genocide and the remembrance The small black center represents the genocide and its tragic aftermath. The small, skinny light purple petals represent the present unity of Armenians around the world, united in remembrance. The five dark purple petals represent two things. The color recalls the color of the official priestly vestments of priests of the Armenian Orthodox church. The number of petals represents the five continents on which members of the Armenian diaspora reside. The twelve golden-yellow trapezoids surrounding the black center represent the twelve pillars of the Dzidezemegeport Memorial in Yerevan. More than that though, yellow stands for light and hope, surrounding, crowding out the dark.

When I first discovered the symbol and the explanation of its representation, I latched onto this symbol as a visual representation. Last year, I printed out the page and taped it to the cart at the front of my classroom, leaving it up for several weeks after the 24th. After I took down the paper, I still desired a more permanent form of this symbol. Weeks turned into months and I still thought about it. Somewhere along the way the idea of tattooing the image somewhere on my body took root. This symbol represents a key part of who I am, something that will never change.

So, on the Tuesday of Spring Break, having learned the lesson of my first tattoo and made an appointment, I headed over to the studio and got the image of this forget-me-not permanently affixed to my left shoulder. In the weeks, months and years to come, I hope that this image will provide yet another opportunity to talk to others about the genocide and everything else that this symbol represents.