Am I Brainwashed or Do Azerbaijanis Just Never Get Heard by Western Media?

The Khodaafarin Bridge, a 12th-century span on the historic Silk Road, connects Iran with Jabrail, one of the provinces recently reclaimed by Azerbaijan. By Rena Effendi for National Geographic

There was a time I thought I was one of those self-proclaimed liberals. Always politically correct, always safe. Especially when it came to speaking up about Azerbaijanis, the Karabakh conflict, and how Western media has consistently ignored us.

Sometimes, even talking about Karabakh in civil society spaces feels like a crime. Like you’re not allowed to mention your own family’s story. When Ukraine demands respect for its territories (rightfully), when Palestinians demand dignity for their people and land (rightfully), civil society circles show solidarity. But when an Azerbaijani speaks, the room gets quiet. No one really wants to understand our point of view.

Let’s ask the real question. Am I brainwashed or do Azerbaijanis genuinely never get heard?

Azerbaijanis have never been properly represented in Western media. Not during the Second Karabakh War. Not after. Not before.

And yes, it hurts.

Because we have stories. But the only stories that seem to get attention are the ones about THE family and their decisions.

But we are more than that.

Yes, there are problems in Azerbaijan. Education, justice, basic rights. All weak points.

But what about ordinary people? What about the ones who were born into this, who didn’t ask for any of it, and still try to make something out of their lives?

What does the world know about Azerbaijan? What will it know 50 years from now? Will anyone know how we speak, what we laugh at, what we care about? Or will we just be a name that pops up in conflict reports?

If you’re not in the archives, if you’re not in the narrative, were you ever really there?

I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen Azerbaijanis in Western media. And when I do, I rarely relate.

Sometimes they’re Russian-speaking upper-class Bakuvians. Sometimes ultra-nationalist. Sometimes too privileged, too polished. Founder. Director. CEO. Usually close to someone who’s close to THE family.

You know exactly what I mean.

Where are the real people?

I’m the child of internally displaced parents from Jabrayil, Karabakh. Not just a few individuals. A whole generation was displaced.

Do you ever hear about them?

Do you know how many families left their homes at midnight and had to live in abandoned houses? Do you know how many of them were treated like outsiders when they moved to Baku or any other big cities in the late 1990s?

Just remember, the 1990s were a nightmare for Azerbaijanis from Karabakh. Thousands were killed, tortured, and forced to flee. People lost their homes, their regions, their families. Dirty politics, you know. I do know as well.

These are the stories that should be heard. But instead, the world talks over us, not with us.

So no, I’m not brainwashed. I’m just tired.

Tired of being erased from the conversation.

Tired of being told when and how I’m allowed to speak about my own history.

Tired of seeing Azerbaijanis reduced to political talking points while the real stories—the painful, human ones—go ignored.

We don’t need the world to agree with us. We need the world to hear us.

And that starts by speaking up, even when the silence feels more comfortable.