At the crossroads of diaspora identity

The journey in the Armenian diaspora is like standing at the crossroads of tradition and assimilation, where each choice colors our identity. I have only grappled with one choice: my name. While fewer children are being given Armenian names due to their parents’ concerns about mispronunciation or impacts on professional respect, my parents made an unusual decision with me. They gave me two names to use in different contexts — Lori and Nayiri. Both are of Armenian origin, but Lori is the name I use with odars, non-Armenians, and Nayiri is the name I’ve been called throughout my childhood attending AGBU Alex and Marie Manoogian School in Southfield, Michigan. 

I didn’t grow up with the burden of having my name scrutinized on attendance sheets. However, the flexibility I had to use two names interchangeably often troubled me. Deciding which name I should use to introduce myself to a non-Armenian used to embarrass me and make me sweat. Would I rather use the name likely to be butchered, or the name that feels less like my own? The duality made me uncomfortable, torn between fitting in or honoring my heritage. 

When I traveled to Armenia for the first time, I hoped to mitigate the feelings of displacement I felt from my American community. However, I soon realized that the problem extended beyond just one aspect of my identity. While I could understand the Armenian spoken in Armenia well, my inability to respond made me feel inadequate, like I was not Armenian enough. 

On the other hand, growing up with minimal engagement with American culture has made me feel like I’m not American enough. Having two names exemplified these feelings of not belonging. Unfortunately, this identity struggle is not unique to my experience; it extends to the challenges faced by members of the Armenian American diaspora.

We gradually end up making difficult and often sad decisions. It seems like each year fewer young people speak Armenian, come to church or stay connected to the community. It is as if we are forcing ourselves to choose between blending in and neglecting our ancestry or accepting our culture and feeling disconnected from the country that we live in. 

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that living in the diaspora doesn’t have to mean choosing between having two identities; it’s about embracing both and having them coexist without guilt. It’s not about being Armenian enough or American enough; it’s about finding a balance. As I’ve come to peace with using both of my names alternatively, I’ve realized I wouldn’t be myself with just one of my names. Being part of the Armenian diaspora in the U.S can be a blessing, depending on how we choose to embrace it. 

Being the Junior president of the Detroit Armenian Youth Federation (AYF), my role is to help educate the youth, donate to our homeland and make my community feel united and connected as Armenian Americans. I have organized fundraisers, attended protests, presented informative PowerPoints and advocated on social media, but most importantly, I have fought against assimilation alongside others. Every “Michigan Hop” shoorch bar that we dance in the AYF is a blow to assimilation, and every Armenian word spoken is a nod to our heritage. 

One Sunday afternoon each month, instead of staying home or watching football, our Armenian American community gathers for an AYF meeting at church. This choice should not be viewed as a sacrifice but rather a responsibility as Armenians in the diaspora. I want the Armenian American community to know that we shouldn’t have to quit one part of our lives to live another; instead, we need to understand that the crossroads of our identities can become a single, unified path. Embracing our dual heritage strengthens us, allowing us to be proud of our roots while creating a future that incorporates the best of both identities.