The Women’s Support Center and Armenia’s Reckoning with Domestic Violence

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I followed Maro Matosian, Executive Director of the Women’s Support Center (WSC), from floor to floor of the center’s walk-in facility. She led with a slight limp—having been instructed after knee surgery to stay off her feet, an order she blithely ignored. She has too much to do.

As she guided me through WSC, explaining how it serves survivors of domestic violence in Armenia, she nonchalantly cradled a small purple crocheted doll in the crook of her arm. The doll accompanied us throughout our tour, as Matosian showed me the vast library of educational and training materials. She introduced me to the child and adult psychologists, social workers, lawyers and accountants. I saw the security cameras, emergency police notification button, storage room for clothing donations, consultation rooms for data collection, and a meeting space decorated with a Winnie-the-Pooh mural.

The walk-in center, formerly a large single-family house, was donated by a supporter in 2014. WSC maintains two shelters where domestic violence survivors and their children can live. It is the only organization in Armenia providing such shelters. While ten regional domestic violence support centers coordinate with WSC, those centers lack shelters and lawyers.

Matosian manages this vital work with a steely and capable calm. Like the small purple crocheted doll she absentmindedly holds close to her body, she offers those seeking her protection a generous and maternal warmth. “They have to be at ease and safe here,” she says. Safety is indeed paramount—she was hesitant to share the center’s address even as I arrived. Yet, once inside the tall iron gate, I was overcome with a feeling of serenity and calm. A small garden and buttercream walls exuded a healing atmosphere.

Matosian and I reflected on the 15 years since WSC’s founding. She traced the roots of domestic violence in Armenia back to the Soviet era: “Before independence, Armenia didn’t address social issues at all. Under communist ideology, society was considered perfect, so problems like rape, domestic violence, child abuse, incest, or discrimination against people with disabilities were officially nonexistent.” After the Soviet Union collapsed, Armenia’s transition to independence and a capitalist economy brought a sharp decline in state services and a rise in poverty. These upheavals had profound, compounding consequences for women.

“Changes in the economic, legal, and political systems had negative implications for the position and social status of women,” Elena Chernyak, a scholar of post-Soviet gender studies has noted. With no infrastructure to respond to domestic violence, and little political will to even acknowledge it, abuse remained largely invisible.

Official statistics were nonexistent. Post-Soviet governments didn’t track domestic violence, and for years, it was treated as a private matter, not a public concern, but as a 2011 Wilson Center report wrote: “Dead bodies are irrefutable evidence.” That report found that between 1988 and 1998, 30% of all murders in Armenia were cases of domestic violence, overwhelmingly perpetrated by men. “After independence, these topics were completely taboo,” Matosian explained. “People acted as though Armenia was immune to such social ills.” Bringing these taboo topics to light was an uphill battle, with tremendous resistance to acknowledging reality.

On October 1, 2010, Armenia was shocked into recognizing this reality when Zaruhi Petrosyan, a 20-year-old mother of an infant girl, was beaten to death by her husband and mother-in-law. She had suffered broken knees, a crushed skull, and broken fingers from trying to dial for help. Neighbors reported that her husband, Yanis Sarkisov, had thrown her body down a flight of stairs so he could claim, “She fell and died.” Sarkisov received a 10-year prison sentence, while his mother, who gained custody of Zaruhi’s child, faced no charges.

While similar incidents had occurred before, it was Zaruhi’s sister, Hasmik, who brought the case to the media, forcing the country to pay attention for the first time. Women’s rights activists attended every court session and ensured the case received publicity. Sarkisov received a strong sentence due to the public outcry and that he was too poor to bribe the judge.

The case became a rallying point, leading numerous NGOs to form the “Coalition to Stop Violence Against Women”. Building on the momentum of this growing movement, they aimed to bring domestic violence out of the shadows. On November 25, the Coalition, human rights activists, and civil society members marched in honor of Zaruhi Petrosyan. This was followed by 16 days of activism, during which they wrote letters to government bodies, gathered petition signatures, held press conferences, and organized awareness events. 

The emerging Coalition and feminist activism had a clear goal: to establish Armenia’s first domestic violence law. They called on the government to criminalize intimate partner violence and officially recognize it as a serious social issue.

Matosian, originally from Romania, was working at the Tufenkian Foundation when this movement began in 2010. Through support from USAID, AIWA, and the Tufenkian Foundation, she launched a pilot program for a domestic violence center. She then partnered with Hasmik Gevorgyan to establish the WSC, opening Armenia’s first shelter in 2012. 

Matosian spent several months training at a domestic violence shelter in New Jersey. She also collaborated with Nina Roma Agvanian, a clinical social work therapist from Boston, and Dr. Ruzanna Ohanjanian, a clinical psychologist from San Francisco. These experiences in America formed the foundation of her knowledge.

In America, the second-wave feminist movement began in the 1960s when Betty Friedan wrote the seminal “The Feminine Mystique” in 1963. This movement catapulted America ahead of most countries in terms of feminist awareness. In the Armenian-American diaspora, support for WSC’s work remained unflagging, with recognition that Armenia needed to catch up. Lenna Garibian, who serves on the Advisory Board of WSC, organized a Boston event under the name “Friends of WSC” and stated, ”Armenian society was behind the West by at least several decades since women in Armenia were facing conditions similar to those of women in the United States in the 1960s and 1970s….despite all the progress in the United States, women here continue to face problems today in striving for their rights.”

As a moral authority and guardian of community values, one might expect the Armenian Church to stand firmly against domestic violence. In the diaspora, especially among genocide survivors and their descendants, the Church played exactly that role—serving as a unifying force and a protector of rights. But in Armenia, shaped by decades of Soviet rule, the Church has largely failed to take a principled stance on domestic violence.

Ani Jilozian, Director of Development at the Women’s Support Center, reflected on this disconnect: “It’s not like that here…. In this context, the church in Armenia is closely aligned with some of these conservative parties. The church was very outspoken against the domestic violence law in 2017 and spread misinformation about it.” The Church’s opposition wasn’t an anomaly, it mirrored a broader post-Soviet pattern, where religion has often become entangled with populist politics and regressive social agendas.

In Russia, the Orthodox Church played a central role in legitimizing state policies that rolled back protections for women. In 2017, the same year Armenia struggled to pass its first domestic violence law, Russia decriminalized certain forms of domestic battery, reframing “traditional values” as a form of moral resistance against Western influence. The Armenian Church, while distinct from Russian Orthodoxy, has echoed some of these positions, particularly through its silence or resistance to reforms promoting women’s rights.

The legacy of Soviet control over religious institutions still lingers. While Catholicos Karekin I once described the Armenian Church as “an institution that recognizes freedom of thought,” his reformist vision was short-lived. The Church continues to struggle with disentangling itself from the political entanglements and ideological inertia of its past. As a result, it has often positioned itself on the wrong side of progress, particularly when it comes to protecting the most vulnerable.

At the Boston event, Matosian stated, “Interestingly, a Russian foundation backed by the Russian government was funding a campaign in Armenia against the [2017 domestic violence] law. It was part of measures to resist rapprochement of Armenian society with the West. They spread false news claiming that children would be taken from their parents and their organs sold, or that not allowing children to eat ice cream would be considered abuse.” These scare tactics created a boogeyman, portraying feminists as a group trying to break up families, advocating for children to be adopted by “homosexuals,” kidnapping wives, operating as a sect, and brainwashing women. Women like Lara Aharonian, director of the Women’s Resource Center Armenia, and a member of the Coalition to Stop Violence Against Women, “faced death threats amid a smear campaign painting gender equality as a western ruse to destroy the family,” wrote The Guardian.

While reading this, I thought of Domingo Martínez, a Mexican-American author who explores the complex collision of cultures. He wrote, “There is nothing more potentially hostile than the indigenous ego interpreting the laws of his conqueror upon his own people.” The hostility toward women may reflect self-hatred stemming from Armenia’s unresolved role within the failed USSR––a role that remains uncertain today. 

This presents a challenging environment for activism. “When you enter this field, you have to have passion and determination,” Matosian said. However, Armenia’s small size is an unexpected advantage. As Jilozian explained, grassroots activism makes a difference. She reminisced, “It was a handful of women’s organizations, it was a handful of feminists, but we were really able to push the mark.” 

Two prominent cases in 2012 helped to create that change. 

Mariam Gevorgyan was married and taken to St. Petersburg where her husband’s family lived. There, she suffered ten months of sadistic abuse, severe torture, and mutilation by her mother-in-law and husband. With the help of UNCOR, she was able to escape and return to Armenia. The case was treated as a trafficking case since her husband had confiscated her passport.

WSC provided psychological, social and legal assistance. The Coalition to Stop Violence Against Women demanded that Gevorgyan’s case investigation be monitored and transparent when it went to trial. “We made sure that the case was well covered in the media so the judge was afraid to take the bribe,” Matosian recalls.

Then-President Serzh Sargsyan ultimately granted a pardon, with only the mother-in-law receiving a three-year sentence. However, the impact of this case went far beyond the courtroom—it exposed the inadequacies of the legal framework and laid bare systemic failures. 

The next major public case to receive extensive media coverage was that of Hasmik Khachatryan, who was subjected to escalating violence and brutal attacks from her husband. His abuse left her with a concussion, fractured nose, ruptured eardrum, and cigarette burns on her skin. Her mother-in-law, a renowned fortune teller with connections to prominent government members and oligarchs, used her influence to protect her son from police intervention.

Khachatryan came to the WSC seeking shelter, psychological counseling, and legal guidance. Though her husband was sentenced to 1.5 years in prison, he was released under an amnesty law. With WSC’s continued support, Hasmik took her case to the European Court of Human Rights (ECHR), which ordered Armenia to pay €24,000 in compensation for her suffering. The ECHR also criticized Armenia for its inadequate legal protections for domestic violence survivors.

This case catalyzed a major societal shift. In 2017, Armenia finally passed a domestic violence law. The victory came through a combination of grassroots activism and pressure from the EU, which made €11 million in aid contingent upon the legislation. Notably, the Armenian Church shifted its position once the government changed. The position of the church ultimately reflected the position of the government.

The 2017 law was groundbreaking, yet inadequate. In 2024, however, it underwent a complete revamping and ratification, marking a watershed moment for women’s rights. At a recent NAASR panel discussion, Matosian declared, “If we cease to exist tomorrow, if our organization stops functioning, we will still have left a lasting impact on what it means to be an Armenian citizen. The changes that we made are that important.” WSC’s work has fundamentally transformed the very fabric of Armenia.

Starting with just 50 beneficiaries in 2010, WSC has grown to handle over 1,000 cases annually. This year, they will establish a transition shelter, which Jilozian describes as “a space in which they [survivors] can continue using shelter services for six months, nine months, one year…. it gives them a little bit of an opportunity to have some savings, put things in place, figure out next steps before having to leave the shelter.”

With so many children at the shelter, Matosian sometimes feels like they are running a kindergarten. Children suffer the deepest impacts from domestic violence, and Matosian knows that without proper care, including social work, psychological support, and group sessions, the cycle of violence will persist. Beyond basic shared chores and online classes, life at the shelter provides time for self-care and wellbeing. It is a time of recovery. 

The work of the Women’s Support Center is a powerful act of resistance against systemic oppression—oppression that is too often framed as uniquely Armenian. As Pink Armenia’s e-magazine noted: “In Armenian society, people have kept silent on this because the family is quite a closed system here, and due to becoming victims of societal morality, orders, norms, roles, and the notion of the Armenian traditional family.” I bristle at the assertion that silence is exceptional. In reality, many post-Soviet societies face similar conditions: inadequate laws, few  shelters and resources and cultural denial. While statistics are scarce, the available data paints a grim picture. As human rights activist Armine Sahakyan wrote, “Two sobering statistics are that a Russian woman is 2.5 times more likely to die at the hands of a partner than an American woman, and five times more likely than a European.”

Armenia’s domestic violence law and growing feminist movement represent significant achievements. While these changes may seem modest compared to Western nations, Armenians should take pride in these accomplishments and in the heroic work of individuals like Maro Matosian and initiatives such as the Coalition. Freedom from violence aligns with our cultural values—a principle that extends to our broader political context. The future of the Armenian nation depends on ending violence, both internally and externally. 

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