Asbarez: Growing Up Armenian Without an Armenian Community

Young Naneh Grigor (second from left) with her cousins

BY NANEH GRIGOR
Special to Asbarez

Every summer I can remember, I have traveled to Los Angeles to stay with my grandparents and spend time with my cousins. Every summer, I experience the same kind of culture shock.

I have lived in several places, but they have all had one thing in common: There was no visible Armenian community. There may have been a few Armenians nearby, but I never met them. I never had Armenian friends. I never spoke Armenian outside my home. I did not grow up surrounded by Armenian organizations, restaurants, churches or community events.

My cousins had the opposite experience. They grew up in Glendale, where Armenian culture was part of their everyday lives. They had Armenian classmates, Armenian friends and countless opportunities to participate in that community. For them, being Armenian was not something that had to be explained. It was everywhere.

For me, being Armenian often felt like something that only existed inside my house. Outside of it, I regularly met people who did not know where Armenia was or what being Armenian meant. I became used to explaining my culture instead of sharing it with people who already understood.

That distance created a disconnect. I love being Armenian, but I have not always known how to express that love. I do not know every Armenian song, participate in Armenian organizations or have a large group of Armenian friends. Sometimes, when I am surrounded by Armenians who seem more involved in the culture, I feel as though I am observing something I am supposed to naturally understand.

It can make me wonder whether I am Armenian enough.

My cousin, Nyra Zadourian, said that being surrounded by Armenians pushed her to become more involved in the community. Through Armenian scouting, the Armenian Relief Society, school clubs and traditional dance, she learned about Armenian history and culture while building friendships with other Armenians.

Nyra said her Armenian friends introduced her to cultural experiences she might not have found somewhere else. She learned Armenian dances, listened to Armenian music and became familiar with the unspoken rules of Armenian social life. She also believes growing up in Glendale helped her find her voice.

“A lot of Armenian people are outspoken, so you have to learn how to be equally as outspoken or you’ll be overlooked,” she said.

But being surrounded by Armenians did not make her identity simple. In some ways, it made it more complicated.

Nyra has struggled with cultural expectations, including expectations surrounding religion and how Armenian women should behave. She has sometimes felt out of place for not sharing beliefs that others considered central to being Armenian. Eventually, she realized that being Armenian did not mean giving up her individuality.

“Separate from being an Armenian, you are an individual, and you’re allowed to have your own beliefs,” she said.

Her experience made me realize that neither of us has a more authentic Armenian identity. We have simply developed our identities under different circumstances. Her identity was shaped by being surrounded by Armenian culture. Mine was shaped by missing it.

Growing up outside an Armenian community has made me feel disconnected, but it has also made me value the culture deeply. I love Armenian food, music, history and the feeling of being with my family. I love the pride Armenians carry and the determination to preserve our culture after everything our people have survived.

My love for my culture may be quieter than my cousins’. It may not be expressed through weekly meetings, Armenian clubs or traditional dance. But being less involved does not mean I care less.

When I visit Los Angeles, I still feel that culture shock. I notice everything I did not have growing up. But I am beginning to understand that identity is not a checklist of organizations joined, songs memorized or Armenian friends made.

I may not have grown up surrounded by Armenian culture, but I still grew up loving it. That love is not weakened by distance. In many ways, the distance has made me hold on to it even more tightly.

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