It seems that the traditional Armenian nose is becoming something we rarely see, much like an endangered bird that makes people feel happy and surprised when they spot it. When I walk down Saryan Street in Yerevan with my friends, I might say, “Look, what a great nose he has.” It’s interesting to note that Martiros Saryan, the famous Armenian painter that this busy street in the capital is named after, had a strong and prominent nose himself. I often wonder what he would think of the sharp, angular noses that many locals have today. I also wonder if he would find them inspiring and if he would still have interesting subjects to paint.
Before you laugh, make fun of it, or get angry, let me make one thing clear. This is not going to be an argument against plastic surgery. People can do whatever they want with fillers, injections, or other procedures.
But this is going to be an argument in favor of the Armenian nose. I’m talking about the crooked ones, the ones that sag a bit, and all the wonderful variations. It’s a call to save what’s left of our distinctive noses, what surgeons call a dorsal hump, and the stories that these noses carry.
Armenia doesn’t have official statistics on this, but surgeons all over the country say that the number of cosmetic surgeries they do each year is going up. In 2017, plastic surgeon Kristina Grigoryan said that her clinic did 500 nose jobs (rhinoplasties). That was a big increase from 150 to 200 five years before. Another doctor, Karen Danielyan, thinks that the growth of plastic surgery in the country started after the 1988 Spitak earthquake. Back then, there was a high need for facial reconstructive surgery. In recent years, Armenian people living abroad and tourists from all over the world have come to Armenia for nose jobs. It’s like they’re leaving behind a part of their identity, but in the form of tissue and cartilage.
Of course, there are good reasons for getting a nose job that aren’t just about looks. It can fix nasal injuries, help you sleep better, and deal with sinus problems. Some people who get cosmetic nose jobs are really happy with the results. In a 2022 study, people who had a cosmetic nose job said they felt a lot better about themselves (their self-esteem went up) after the operation, compared to those who had a functional nose job.
Plastic surgery is popular all over the world, but for some reason, it makes me feel really sad in Armenia. Why does it seem like trading our unique Armenian noses for European-looking ones is such a painful and unchangeable thing?
Most babies cry when they’re born, but I like to think that Armenians come into the world with stories to tell. In just the last century, we’ve survived a genocide, a big 6.9-magnitude earthquake, life under Soviet rule, and a difficult transition to independence. Even though we’ve faced so many disasters, we’ve not only survived but also rebuilt and made our communities stronger all over the world.
Even though we’ve lost a lot over the centuries, we’ve held onto our stories and our noses. You can take away our homes, our family members, and our mountains, but until recently, our noses were still ours. But what happens to an entire ethnic group when one of its most recognizable features is seen as the reason for low self-esteem? What happens when thousands of people think that their nose bones are stopping them from being successful, finding love, and feeling confident? At what point will we look around and not recognize each other anymore? What will we do when our children look more like ancestors we’ve never met than like us?
I grew up listening to Arno Babajanians, watching Mher Mkrtchyans, and reading Silva Kaputikyans. My parents always told me that our ethnic facial structure was something to be proud of, something that Armenians were born with.
When I look closely at your nose, I can tell a lot about you. Your nose is like the punctuation mark on your face, like a drooping comma or a slanted slash. Stories without punctuation are just a bunch of random events with no real meaning, no past or future. Let’s bring back the crooked question marks, the thick full stops, the big round brackets.
When I look closely at your nose, I can almost hear your aunt’s loud laughter, your great-grandfather’s long toasts, and the poems that your future child will recite.
This is my plea, a kind of love letter to the noses that are still around and carrying so many untold stories. So, I’m asking you: be proud of your Armenian nose. Let it be a part of the stories of generations who never got the chance to share them. It’s one of the few things that’s still truly ours.
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