Solidarity in indigeneity

In a globalized world, diasporic populations exist in all corners in all continents. But how exactly does “migrant-hood” contrast with indigeneity? The worldwide Armenian population is around 10 million people — with less than 30% of that population living in Armenia. What does that make of the remaining seven-point-something million people, who are forever connected to the Armenian homeland? I was born in Armenia in 2003. With my family, I immigrated to the United States in 2008, became naturalized in 2013 and have lived my life as an Armenian American since. I am sure many individuals can relate to the cultural cognitive dissonance of the migrant experience. I live in the United States but my blood belongs to the mountains of the South Caucasus; I speak fluent English but my tongue remembers the Eastern Armenian dialect. Am I still indigenous, or am I an absentee of the native Armenian people? I have observed plenty of discourse on this topic. Who has the rightful claim to land? Who is truly native? While I cannot provide a precise definition, I can say this: I believe one is indigenous to the land they care about. Where your heart is, that is your land. Where your body resides matters less when your soul belongs somewhere else. The oppressive forces of colonialism, genocide and displacement have pushed native Armenians out of their homeland, expanding the diaspora and fragmenting our population. The loss of Artsakh is a reflection of the same greed of settler-colonialism that has harmed native populations across the globe. There is no undoing of diasporas; we cannot turn back the clock and reverse the migration of millions of Armenians. We do, however, carry Armenia with us. The generational pain and loss associated with our historical tragedies live within each of us, and we must carry that burden throughout our lives, no matter how far we may be from our homelands. Our distance has not been an obstacle to the genuine connections we have to our indigeneity and for that I commend us. I speak for many Armenians when I voice my frustration regarding the widespread silence, apathy or ignorance in the face of the loss of our native land and peoples, their homes pillaged and lives uprooted. In spite of this frustration, we scream even louder. We let it be known where our hearts belong. The land lives within us and nothing can take that away. It does not matter how much time has passed since I stepped foot in Armenia or how much my linguistic fluency may have diminished. My heart is still with the land, I still bleed the colors of our flag, and I am still, and always will be, Armenian. Each native population faces its own adversities, with external forces working to minimize their existence and silence their voices. The only way to preserve our communities and keep our cultural hearts beating is to stand together in indigeneity. I see this executed beautifully on my university campus. As Armenian, Palestinian, Iranian and Arab students, we merge our social club events, attend each other’s vigils and stand united as the greater SWANA (Southwest Asia and North Africa) organizations. Individually, we each understand loss, displacement and war, but above all, we understand together. For example, the nationwide student encampments of 2024 demonstrated that in solidarity, we are not only louder and larger but also stronger. These protests represent the virtues necessary to bridge the distance between our native and diasporic communities — standing as a united front against hegemonic, oppressive forces. It is this kind of solidarity that makes us a beautifully connected community. We embrace our cultural, religious and ethnic differences while coming together to identify with one another’s struggles and losses. Perhaps this is a symptom of our youthful optimism, a force that may dissipate with age and cynicism. But I think it is much more than that. We yearn to sustain our motherlands, both literal and metaphorical. Thousands of miles of distance are not enough to splinter our people, native and diasporic. Sure, our cultures may assimilate and merge over time, but I believe that our land lives inside of us, even if we no longer live on the land itself. My point is simple — we need solidarity among the indigenous. As much as our cultures, languages, traditions and ethnicities differ, we all have one thing in common: we are a fragmented people. Our experiences of oppression are akin to one another, our sense of community stronger than the struggles we face. It is for this reason that I urge Armenians to feel the pain of our Palestinian fellows, to bear the burden of loss with all those across the globe who know the ache of genocide. The losses in Artsakh and Gaza are one and the same — tragedies at the hands of Western greed and entitlement, events so controversial that the world cannot seem to grasp basic empathy for the devastating loss of life. We must give voice to the millions lost to time and curse the names of those who force their presence onto land that is not their own. The only way to stand against the oppressor is to stand together.

Solidarity in indigeneity

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Maria Movsesyan

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Maria Movsesyan

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