100 years ago my great grandmother escaped her home by hiding herself and her little sister under a mattress while her parents and siblings were shot to death outside their home. She bashed her face against rocks in the desert to make herself ugly, so the Turkish soldiers ‘escorting’ them across the desert wouldn’t single her out and sell her to Kurdish village men. She sold her sister to an Arab couple to keep her safe and fed, and the two never saw each other again. A hundred years later, my family still doesn’t know where my great grandmother’s sister is, or if she even survived. Yesterday my mother cried when she retold the story and I showed her all the recognition we received around the world. Turkey is guilty of genocide, yet it seems like they’re the only ones who won’t admit it.