Being Armenian: A Responsibility

As my time with Birthright is now complete, I spend my last few days in Armenia before my flight back home in quiet contemplation. Aside from the expected feelings of nostalgia, friendship, and gratitude, one overwhelming emotion that will not vacate my mind is the feeling of responsibility.

Growing up, I believed that being Armenian meant summer camps, church, and really just a small, comforting community I was a part of. It was, at the time for me, a sense of warmth and family. And while being Armenian definitely encompasses those things, I am slowly learning, from my time in Armenia, that it is vastly more than that.

The first time I traveled to Armenia was in 2019, through an American ACYOA-led service program called ASP. On this trip, myself and 19 other young Armenians, most of whom I already knew well, spent three weeks volunteering and discovering the country. This was the first time I truly felt Armenian; I was able to walk down the streets of Armenia and explore my homeland, a place I had only read and dreamt about. To look around and see strangers who felt like family was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

I distinctly remember standing at the Genocide Memorial with tears filling my eyes. I looked around at my friends and was struck with the realization that, if history had turned out differently, I might never have been able to experience the beauty of being Armenian. At that moment, I understood how much my community meant to me, and how grateful I was to have such amazing people in my life. However, due to how short of a time we were there, that feeling was not given an opportunity to cement itself into my heart. I left with a deeper connection to my back-home community, not Armenia itself.

Six years later, almost to the date, I returned to Armenia for Birthright. This decision was not an easy one; before I got to Armenia, I was unsure what I was doing with my life and where it would take me next. And leaving the country for four months where I only knew a few people was definitely out of my comfort zone. In a time where I was feeling lost, where my own home wasn’t feeling like home anymore, I decided to go to my ancestral home, with the hope that it would perhaps give me some clarity on my life.

Over the past four and a half months, I have met countless people from different countries and walks of life, with their own unique perspectives. They say comparison is the thief of joy, but I couldn’t help but notice how different my life was to those people I was meeting and becoming

friends with. They all upheld being Armenian to such an extent, through language, food, history, and culture. It was as awe-inspiring as it was saddening, that I felt like my life and my efforts at preserving my culture felt like a shortcoming.

My initial reaction to this was anxiety and disappointment. However, through lots of internal work, I was able to reframe my insecurities as room for growth, and goals I could set for myself to look forward to one day achieving. Through this reframing, I was able to turn my stress and feeling of inadequacy into energy, motivation, and ambition. I now want to uphold the Armenian cause and preserve my heritage as best as I can, as actively as I can. I want to be able to speak the language fluently, to learn the history, the music, and the culture that my friends on Birthright had inspired me to take more seriously. Because one day, the older generations will not be around to keep it alive. Now, I will be flying back to Chicago stronger and more determined to do my part. The dormancy of my connection with my identity has ended; I have been impacted so deeply by my amazing friends and the community I made in Armenia. I must bring it back home with me.

Growing up, I believed that being Armenian meant summer camps, church, and really just a small, comforting community I was a part of. I now know that it is that, and much, much more. Being Armenian, being truly connected to your ancestors, to your culture, and to your community, is not only a matter of birth, but also a matter of choice. And I will happily choose it every day.