In the Armenian American diaspora, we have the unique distinction of living with hyphens. Many of us have emigrated from other lands to this country and carry with us terms of origin such as Lebanese, Iranian, Romanian or Syrian. Whether we are born in the United States or have moved here, we are all called “American.” Although we are all too aware that these labels can inspire stereotypes and pre-judgement, they give us insight into our journey. In the past, our grandparents learned much about their peers through labels such as Kharpertzi, Sepastiatzi or Vanetzi. There was an instant camaraderie, similar to finding friends from your hometown when living in a faraway place.
As the diaspora moved into its second and third generations, our adopted nations developed new subcultures. Our common bonds as Armenians continued to unite us, but our locations served as connecting “ice breakers.” We should always focus on what unites us, but our locations in the diaspora offer a unique view of our cultural evolution. It may be our accent or certain nuances applied to our food, but the distinctions are clear. As long as our Armenian identity prevails, the dynamic is similar to when our historic homeland was divided between dominant empires. There were times when Armenians were isolated between a variety of foreign cultures, yet our identity survived and a common core was preserved. The geographic dispersion component is relatively new, but focusing on what we have in common will determine our future as a global nation.
In the diaspora, we inherit three ingredient identifiers — a noun, an adjective and the ubiquitous hyphen. We have a tendency to interchange the adjective and noun freely, but their alignment offers us a window into how we define our identity. In the United States, self identification may be expressed as “Armenian-American” or “American-Armenian.” Many people may consider the order insignificant, but the placement of the noun offers different perspectives. For example, when Armenians in the United States travel to Armenia, they usually self identify as “Ameriga-hye” or as “American-Armenian.” The noun is our common bond as Armenians, and the adjective is a descriptor of the type of Armenian. The hyphen is a simple sign that reflects the complexity of life in the diaspora.
Most Armenians live a dual life. We have educational, social and professional associations with the United States as citizens or permanent residents of this country. It is a significant influence on our behavior, and overexposure can lead to assimilation. There are many who view assimilation as a natural result of living in American culture. The “melting pot” image was popular in previous generations, as Armenians strived to integrate into America. This was reflected in American first names or monikers that had American translations. As diversity has increased in the United States, many parents have embraced their ethnic heritage, and Armenian names have returned among children born in this country.
There is another perspective on our hyphenated world. It involves reversing the adjective and the noun and identifying as Armenian-American. In this example, our citizenship and location of residence determine the noun. Some Armenians in America are adamant that the noun should be American as a reflection of loyalty and patriotism. When we work with American politicians on matters of interest to Armenians, we are referred to as Armenian-Americans, because what unites us with these lawmakers is our common American heritage. I tend to believe that our behavior and actions drive identity. This is the major difference in life in the diaspora. Our identity is a choice determined by personal decisions. Participating in the significant infrastructure of schools, churches and centers increases the probability of self-identifying as an Armenian in one’s adult life, but it is by no means a guarantee. It is a choice we are free to make either consciously or through evolutionary maturation.
When Armenians in the United States travel to Armenia, they usually self identify as “Ameriga-hye” or as “American-Armenian.” The noun is our common bond as Armenians, and the adjective is a descriptor of the type of Armenian. The hyphen is a simple sign that reflects the complexity of life in the diaspora.
Another hyphenated reality I have encountered is the linkage of the terms “Armenian” and “Christian.” Are we Armenian Christians or Christian Armenians? The former suggests we identify with the larger Christian world and that Armenians are a particular type of Christian. In the latter, our ethnic identity is of primary importance, and Christian is a descriptor. It suggests that a Christian is one type of Armenian, or at least that there are secular Armenians. We are all free to identify as we wish. Personally, I will always identify my faith as the noun with pride that we practice according to the traditions of the Armenian Church.
I find it fascinating that two terms and a sign can offer a variety of views into our lives. With the recent focus in this country on understanding more about ethnic and race identifiers, Armenians have begun to question the lack of self-identity in the standard race and ethnicity questions. I have asked myself, are we “white” or “other,” and if we are “other,” what is the value of that identification? There was a time when Armenians in the diaspora were happy to blend into the vanilla flavor labels. At times, there were options for “Middle Eastern,” but although we have substantial populations in that geography, ethnically we are not indigenous to that area. In the last decade, the term “Eurasian” has become more prominent, as a reflection of Armenia’s location on the western Asian continent with significant connections to Europe. The political importance of the Caucasus over the last 30-40 years has increased the need and importance of these terms.
The good news is that our children do not have to suffer the pain of being a stateless people who draw blank responses when they declare, “We are Armenian!” This was true for the majority of us in the diaspora. Fortunately, as a result of the success of Armenians individually and collectively as a community, this is no longer the case. With the emergence of the independent republic in 1991, Armenia prominently joined the nations of the world. In addition to personal identity, the outside world has become more enlightened. How many times have you conversed with an American about your ethnicity, and the silence of the past has been replaced with, “My roommate is Armenian,” or “I worked with many Armenians”? These types of comments, which are quite common, have substantial significance. They reflect the decision of Armenian individuals to share their identity, and each example contributes to the evolution of diversity in America, of which we are sustaining beneficiaries.
We should internalize that living in the diaspora is complicated for hyphenated Armenians, but that complexity offers us many entry points into our identity. Today in America, diversity and uniqueness are valued and encouraged. My granddaughter’s first grade class in public school held an ethnic cultural day last year, during which students and parents set up booths to display their ethnic heritage and examples of food. Long gone are the days when I was in grade school and my teacher told me she had never heard of Armenians or Armenian as a faith. In today’s classroom, the teacher would likely apologize for her ignorance rather than isolate the student. American-Armenian children are writing reports about their ethnicity in their schools. Whether Armenian is the noun or the adjective, this strengthens their connection, which we should never take for granted. When our children can share their heritage with non-Armenian peers, it builds a sense of pride and confidence that is sustainable. It is a simple and effective activity that we should encourage our children to continue.
When I was in middle school, we had to choose a country and offer an oral report for the class. I wanted to do Armenia, but I was told it was not a country and had to choose Hungary. I was devastated and frustrated that the Irish, French and even Polish kids could talk about their heritage, but I could not. When we think of the importance of Armenian independence on September 21, please consider the children in faraway diaspora communities who can now write and talk about Armenia and find their place in that story. It is a blessing for all of us to embrace. It is true that the path to sustained identity is more difficult in the diaspora. The nuances of the noun, adjective and hyphen are far-reaching, but our ability to focus on what unites us is critical. At the end of the day, dialects, host countries and variations in food are opportunities to learn and not separators. When I go to Armenia, I see many of the beautiful values of family and respect that I fear we have lost in America. It replenishes my inner peace to know that our culture has enabled such gifts.
Stepan Piligian
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Another very interesting article by Stepan Piligian.
I just wrote a whole story about the hyphens, scrolled up and then down and everything disappeared. I could say that I have two hyphens as I was born in Istanbul, Turkey and now I’ve been in the USA since 1973. I worked for a hotel in NYC one of whose guests carried your last name. I’ve been retired now for nearly year and half. Would I be hyphenated as Armenian-Turkish-American?
No, we are not ‘middle eastern’. Give us a break with this issue.