“I kept thinking about how us, women, have survived in general, and I realized that the only thing that has brought us this far and that we, women, never emphasize is solidarity with each other — solidarity in everyday life, among women in the family, in the neighborhood, among relatives, etc. Without this, we really wouldn’t have come this far. And this is what we need to remember, that these threads of solidarity, mutual support, mutual love, were so strong that it saved us,” says Tamta Melashvili.

In the past, she referred to herself more as an activist, now — as a writer. The author of three novels and the winner of several literary awards, including two Saba, tells Aprili Media her story from childhood to the present. Her books, which have been among the bestsellers for months, have been translated into many languages. These novels have been adapted into plays and films. The most popular novel, “Blackbird Blackbird Blackberry,” has probably brought her the most popularity. The responses were mostly positive, and after the book was released, you could even see Tamta Melashvili tagged in a photo of a Napoleon cake on social media (you’ll need to read the book to understand why), although a few criticized the boldness and frank scenes.

“I am the author of one of the best sex scenes in Georgian literature,” Tamta herself notes, and I tell her that I think I already know the title of this article. It could be that, but it would be inadequate for today, she says: “there is no place for a sex scene, the country is collapsing.”

I don’t think many people know me, she says, nor do I want to be known, because that wouldn’t make me comfortable as a person.

“I prefer to live a quiet, peaceful, isolated, solitary life.”

Aprili Media spoke to Tamta Melashvili about her childhood, activism, her work, and current processes in the country. She believes that:

“Autocracy or dictatorship cannot be established in Georgia, because generations in Georgia have grown up in a free country.”

Childhood

“I was born in Soviet Georgia,” — this is how Tamta Melashvili begins talking about her childhood. Then she adds that lately, whatever she says, she has been filtering through the events taking place in Georgia in recent months, and she even feels embarrassed to talk about things that are not related to the present. Therefore, she says she will discuss her childhood memories in the context of these events.

“Amidst the upheavals and difficulties, generations have grown up in this country where free speech, self-expression, etc. have not been restricted. When they talk about this, they definitely mean the generations that were born in independent Georgia. But I also consider myself to be among these people, despite the fact that my deep childhood passed in the 80’s. […] My generation, 40-45-year-old people, are also those who grew up in free speech and free self-expression, we created ourselves, and, accordingly, the manifestation of autocracy, the restrictive policy of the Georgian Dream is very unacceptable to us. We, too, with our bodies and our words, defend freedom, which, it turned out, is very dear to the people of Georgia.”

Vakho Kareli / Aprili Media

She says that as a Soviet child, she had a specific childhood, and if she could recall the details, it might be funny and shocking for a 15-20 year old person. She grew up in Racha, in Ambrolauri, and finished school there. She grew up with her great-grandmother, who was 82-83 years old at the time.

“I experienced the double burden of Soviet women. My mother worked and was in Tbilisi, she left me with her grandmother, her mother, who also worked, and she handed me over to her mother, who was very sweet, very laid-back, and with whom I spent my childhood.”

She recalls that she grew up in a completely isolated world, and that going to kindergarten and socializing was difficult, because to entertain herself, she had an imaginary world, and she adds that writing is very much like being in this world.

She believes that books have helped her navigate her life — first fairy tales and then classics. She especially remembers “The Catcher in the Rye,” which was a turning point in her consciousness and life. She says that her father recommended this book to her, and it is a very precious memory for her.

“We can assume that these 80’s, even “perestroika”, were the beginning of a breeze of freedom in the entire Soviet Union and in Georgia. Accordingly, despite my Soviet childhood, I consider myself a person who grew up in freedom, in free speech.”

She considers the narrow circle of friends she had at that time lucky. She singles out the writer and journalist Eka Kevanishvili in particular. She recalls that their friendship was intense, they exchanged opinions on various issues, as well as their first writings and were each other’s first readers.

“We were lucky to have each other. This exchange, being around someone like you, I don’t know how much it grows you, but at least it makes you feel like you’re not alone.”

Activism

“Ambrolauri is a town nestled in the mountains, and all I could see throughout my childhood was a mountain rising in front of me. From a very young age, I imagined that there was a city behind this mountain, and I imagined what this city was like, and what the people who live in this city were like.  The desire to overcome this mountain, to break through this border, somehow, it seems, appeared in childhood, but I didn’t know what form to give it,” recalls Tamta Melashvili, adding that later I was able to travel and did it very happily, but she connects the desire to break through borders in childhood with the choice of profession – international relations.

“For some reason, I thought that this was the only way I, as an ambassador, as a diplomat, could break through the border, and this breaking through the border was very important to me. I probably thought that I would learn this and that’s how I would see, get to know the world. I learned it, and well, among other things, at least all the theories that were taught to us back then.”

However, she later discovered that this profession was boring for her. She spent several years searching for herself, and then studied gender studies in Budapest.

“There I realized that what I experience, what I have been through, what I have felt, exists in the form of theories, and I study it and theoretically strengthen my back.”

She has been involved in activism since the 2010’s, when activism was gaining a foothold in Georgia. She was a co-founder of the organization Identity and a participant in the peaceful protest of May 17, 2013, which was violently dispersed by clergy and parishioners. She says that activism was a very bright, very intense, very interesting period in her biography.

“I can say that it was the most intense and interesting episode in my life. When you go into activism, you are young, full of energy, you believe in change, and you ultimately make changes.  I think that the forms of activism that feminists and then queers started in Georgia somehow laid the foundation, contributed to what is happening today,” says Tamta Melashvili.

Vakho Kareli / Aprili Media

When comparing past and current activism, she notes that the scale and diversity were much smaller then, with only one or two voices being heard at first. In addition, even introducing and establishing the word “feminism” into the language was both new and difficult.

“It wasn’t easy, for example, to say in public that I was a feminist. It took a certain level of courage to say that. Even when we did the first march in 2011, feminists, showing up, showing up our bodies as feminists, labeling ourselves as feminists… that happened, but it was followed by reactions. And discussions followed. And that discussion, starting to talk about things, was very important, because that was the time when we were starting to talk about very important issues .”

In her opinion, a lot of knowledge and experience has been accumulated during this time, which will be very useful to citizens in the current situation, “even from the perspective that there are many self-organized groups and the process does not have one leader, everyone can be a leader.”

“Activism was my form of self-expression, I couldn’t do it any other way. And that’s very important. We’re getting to the point where people should have the opportunity to express themselves, which is what they’re trying to ban today.”

Being a Writer

At the beginning of the interview, when we asked Tamta how she would introduce herself to the audience, she told us that she initially felt uncomfortable with the word, but now she calls herself a writer. She explains this discomfort by saying that historically, a writer was associated with conformity, although there were a few exceptions. She tells us that later these perceptions changed and writers also became involved in activism and, conversely, were more visible in spaces of resistance.

“Now I no longer feel uncomfortable. Especially in these circumstances, especially in the last 2-3 years when writers have been resisting this artistic space, on the contrary, I am proud to be a writer in Georgia.”

She says that writing is uniquely political for her.

“As far as I’m concerned, as a citizen of this country, as a human being, absolutely everything is political and it’s impossible for writing not to be political.”

We also asked her about her novels, if she has any special sentiments about them. She tells us that she was like that in “To the East,” because at the time she thought she had been unjustly oppressed.

“At first, when they told me that “To the East” was a bit weak of a text, I was very upset, but then I realized that although I can’t really call it a weak text in such a clear sense, I could have written more extensively and said more through this book. At that time, I was in a very difficult situation, as a person, I was in a very toxic relationship… and I couldn’t do more.”

“All three are a very big and very important part of my life, and all three were written at the right time. I couldn’t write “Counting Out” today, just as I couldn’t write “To the East” or “Blackbird”. I think that every book has its time and place in a writer’s life and is born exactly at the right time and place when it should be born.”

“When writing, probably all my colleagues will agree with me, you need to emotionally step out of this world and be in the world you are creating, which is very difficult, especially in today’s reality. You are not given the opportunity to distance yourself from this reality. One of the artists said recently: when I stand at a protest, among other things, I am also fighting for the right to draw. I really liked it and, in principle, I am also fighting for the right to write and ultimately. We really deserve to have a situation where we can all do work that we love, that we value and that others value. Now is a time that is pushing us out of our usual state.”

In her opinion, important and great texts are created in peace. She says that Georgians are talented and “we would be much more visible on the world artistic map if we had a slightly calmer country. Important and great texts are created in peace.”

 

Tamta says she has often heard criticism of Georgian writers that they do not reflect on the recent past. In her opinion, this requires time and resources, including emotional and research. All of this “turned out to be a luxury in our situation.” Added to this are the collective traumas of the 1990’s, which can make it difficult for a person who went through that period to write about it.

“Despite the fact that I was 11-12 years old at the time, I am also part of this collective trauma. This trauma is with me too. This is some stage or part of history that I don’t want to deal with or face creatively. Later, generations came along who were able to do this. For example, Iva Pezuashvili wrote very well about the 90’s. That’s why all this takes time.”

Etero

“Etero came during the pandemic, when we were all locked in our homes or rooms and didn’t know what to do. Somehow, this woman suddenly appeared,” is how Tamta Melashvili recalls the process of creating her latest novel.

She says she was preparing for another text, but apparently she felt very lonely and Etero somehow appeared in her room.

“For the nine months, how symbolic, that I was working on the text, Etero was with me. She even remained with me for some time afterwards, as a separate individual. I am not Etero and I could never be.”

“I simply cannot be otherwise. In this case, writing, and in my time, activism, is what has been my form of existence and self-expression. Without it, I would not have been able to express myself and, at the same time, understand myself and the society in which I live.”

She recalls that in the process of writing “Blackbird,” she consciously created a character — a middle-aged woman who does not fit the standards of beauty, is free, but at times constrained by social pressure. She also wanted to show how women struggle to find and maintain security in everyday life. According to Tamta, every woman, like Etero, weaves a certain web around herself, builds a nest to feel safe, especially single women.

We asked her why she thought “Berry Berry Blackberry” became a bestseller. She said it was probably because it touched on topics that might not be entirely apparent on the surface.

“And I also touched on topics that are more or less familiar to everyone, painful or touchable. Perhaps the language played a role, as well as one or two explicit scenes. I believe that I am the author of one of the best sex scenes in Georgian literature.”

As she says, the success of the book, seeing it on the bestseller shelf, did not make her feel like it was her own book.

“It was Etero’s, first and foremost. I thought that Etero deserved that good word, that praise, first and foremost, and I still think that if Tamta Melashvili is famous, she became more famous through Etero. In other words, Etero is more famous than Tamta Melashvili. I don’t have a problem with it, on the contrary, I like it more.”

Many people thought that Etero was from Imereti, and many also understood her connection to Racha. Tamta says that Etero could be from any region, but she wanted to mark Racha on the literary map — not directly, but with hints and allusions.

“When I was writing, I still had my own city in front of me. For example, I know roughly where the Etero store is in Ambrolauri. There is no Etero’s store there and there is no store in general, but I was doing some localization in my imagination; I know roughly where she goes to get the blackberry, even though there is no blackberry at all on the banks of the Rioni River.”

“I think that where you spend the first 15-16-17 years of your life, where you are born and where you spend your childhood, is very important. You never get bored, no matter where you go.”

She says that she didn’t take the character of Etero from one specific person and later realized that she had certain traits of important, interesting, memorable women in Tamta’s life – women who made a special, “bright” impression on her as a child with their stories, actions, and appearance.

“I was very fond of such women and I still am to this day — those who go against the flow, are self-sufficient and distinguish themselves in society by behaving differently, dressing differently, speaking differently… For example, I was very fond of a woman cursed, which was very foreign to my family. It seemed to me a kind of form of rebellion, and these words later invaded my life, which I think I use very organically and very beautifully in life when I need them.”

Russian and Homophobic Laws

Since the day the Georgian Dream first introduced the Russian law, Tamta has been actively participating in protests. She says she has a strong, “crushing” sense of injustice that she can’t even come to terms with.

“This is not just an injustice to me as an individual, a citizen, a writer, it is a systemic injustice to the entire society. This is a restriction of free speech, self-expression, and the preservation of hierarchies in the country where a handful of people get rich, do what they want, and their power has no limits, while the rest of us live in unbearable conditions.”

“At 45 years old, I think I’ve worked hard enough for this country, I’ve fought hard enough, and I truly deserve a better country.”

She says that many people around her have a similar feeling, as various groups have worked hard to create a better environment in the country, which is being destroyed with one stroke of the pen. According to Tamta, this is a very painful process:

“What you basically built your life around, what you believed in, is being destroyed. No one can come to terms with this, and that’s why we protect all of this with our bodies when we stand outside.”

As for the homophobic law, Tamta says she can’t imagine how it could be enforced or how much the Georgian Dream party has the resources for it. However, she adds that it may also be a defense mechanism on her part.

She emphasizes that homophobia has always been a subject of manipulation by the government and has never been a problem for the people.

“Homophobia has been used as a tool of hatred and it has never been a given among the Georgian population. I say this as a victim of May 17, 2013, from a bus, who went through it all. Georgian people are not homophobic.”

As for the censorship part, Tamta says that although it doesn’t last long, it has very devastating consequences and it takes a very long time to recover from this process.

“It takes time to relearn free speech, free self-expression. We have been learning this for thirty years, and now, somehow, the time has come when something very important is beginning in Georgian art, Georgian writing, and Georgian theater. And at this time, in addition to suddenly turning us away from the European rails, which society had agreed that we wanted, they also blocked our paths to development, self-development, and some new flourishing that various art spaces in Georgia were beginning to experience.”