Jocelyn and Ashley began by grounding the room in history. Through research, visuals, and video, they traced the origins of the Armenian Genocide, offering context for events that began in 1915 under the Ottoman Empire and continue to shape lives today.

That foundation quickly gave way to something more personal. Jocelyn’s mother, Ester, and Ashley’s father, Andrew, shared family histories shaped by the genocide and its lasting aftermath—stories of survival, displacement, and resilience that continue to ripple across generations. 

Andrew spoke about his grandparents who were orphaned as children, growing up without knowing their birthdays or even the names of their parents—pieces of identity lost alongside their families. Ester reflected on her own experience of displacement decades later, illustrating how the impact of 1915 did not end with a single generation, but continued to surface in new forms of persecution well into the late 20th century.

Together, their stories reframed the conversation. This was no longer just about the past—it was about how history lives on, carried in families, in memory, and in the realities people continue to navigate today.

Their reflections also underscored what statistics alone cannot hold. While approximately 1.5 million Armenians were killed, the true impact of the genocide extends far beyond numbers—it lives in fractured histories, in survival, and in the absence of stories that were never able to be passed down. It also lives in ongoing denial. More than a century later, the Armenian Genocide is still not universally recognized, a reality that continues to shape how this history is understood, remembered, and, in some places, contested.

That understanding shaped the way students engaged. During the Q&A, questions moved beyond learning to responsibility—how to raise awareness, what role they play in preventing injustice, and how to recognize these patterns in the world today. The answers pointed to something both simple and challenging: awareness must lead to action. Speaking up. Staying informed. Paying attention to the way others are treated in everyday moments. The work of preventing harm, students were reminded, often begins on a much smaller, more human scale.

Perhaps most powerful was the fact that this space was created by students themselves. Jocelyn and Ashley didn’t just present information—they guided their peers through a conversation that was complex, emotional, and deeply relevant, holding space for both learning and reflection.

Today, April 24, as the community marks Armenian Genocide Remembrance Day, students gathered outside the Dining Hall for a simple but meaningful act of remembrance: painting rocks with the forget-me-not flower, the official symbol of the Armenian Genocide. First introduced at the centennial in 2015, the flower represents eternal remembrance—honoring the lives lost, the unity of the present-day Armenian community, and the global diaspora that continues to carry this history forward.

Spread across tables and shared in conversation, the activity offered a different kind of reflection—quiet, personal, and collective all at once. In that moment, remembrance became something students could hold, create, and carry with them—well beyond this day.