Let’s try to judge less and celebrate the small victories

It seems reasonable to assume that we don’t spend enough resources in the diaspora on the subject of identity. It is often the elephant in the room, given the challenges of secularism, intermarriage and cultural estrangement that surround us. While we spend considerable resources on ready-made institutions, we invest much less on outreach to an increasingly diluted diaspora. 

Some of us successfully connect with our Armenian identity, while others struggle. We accept our losses and move on to the next generation. The problem, however, is that the pool gets smaller. The numbers in Sunday schools and youth organizations don’t lie. Given the enormous importance of this topic, I was very moved by Zoe Karibian’s article in the Weekly on her story of identity. The essay was intriguing primarily because of her profound understanding of the topic, despite still being in high school. 

Although her experiences focused on the impact of lacking language skills, her eloquence illustrated a larger point. Identity is a choice and is self defined. Over the past century, the diaspora has contributed to the constant evolution of Armenian identity. The survivor generation, in many ways, was a close extension of the homeland. The first generation born to our survivors grew up in the Great Depression and fought in World War II. They maintained their language skills for the most part but were the first of the truly hyphenated groups. 

While deeply committed to traditional family life, they attended public schools, played sports and were immersed in the emerging American pop culture. It was the succeeding generation, often identified as baby boomers, that began to lose the language fluency, and identity as a choice became evident. For those of you active in the community and from the baby boomer generation, how many of your peers from your youth are active today? It was during this period that Armenians in the American diaspora began to redefine their identity.

Based on the “drop out” rate, it became more visible that maintaining an Armenian identity is a choice made at some point in life. The hope is that one eventually matriculates through the infrastructure into adult life as an identifying Armenian. Increasingly, with intermarriage and children arriving later in life, that identity may emerge or be rediscovered much later. 

Our community infrastructure exposes us to many aspects of our faith and heritage. The church has been a magnet of identity for decades in this country. Political advocacy, educational, philanthropic and cultural organizations are other available options in our communal life. As the diaspora model evolves, we must learn to respect that we may have distinctly different definitions of identity. 

Our intolerance of this reality is problematic. The Armenian community is no exception to the standard sociological model stating that language skills greatly diminish by the third generation. If you track the generations, the baby boomers clearly have diminished language skills. Most of our American-born parents did a superb job in making identity a priority, but Armenian as a language was not. Languages can be acquired and lost if not practiced. Many from the third generation learned Armenian before English, often in a three-generation household, or at the very least, through active survivor-generation grandparents. 

As Armenian families prospered and moved further from the original core neighborhoods, geographic density was negatively impacted. English became a primary language in community conversation, and language skills diminished. The movement in the 1960s to build Armenian day schools in California and a few other areas was the exception to this trend. The population density supported this vision, in addition to timely immigration from regions where Armenian was the primary language. Armenians from the Middle East, for example, had a tradition of Armenian community-run schools. 

Language was a major differentiator and deterrent to assimilation. With a large influx of Armenians from the Middle East and Armenia into Los Angeles, the model has existed for over 50 years. The same challenges of assimilation and geography exist, but have been offset by density and the resulting empowerment. While preserving our native language is important, those lacking language skills have still found profound identity as Armenians. Admonishing individuals for their lack of language skills only weakens our communities. Encouraging them is a much better option.

Zoe is a wonderful example of this reality.

Armenians have generally defied some sociological models as a community because of the replenishment impact of immigration. Many of our cultural and educational institutions have been nobly served by immigrants from Lebanon, Syria, Iran and Armenia.

Armenians migrating from countries where the impact of assimilation was less significant has provided a major boost to the American Armenian community. In a twist of irony that only a people in diaspora can fully comprehend, Armenians with remarkable community capabilities in unstable environments have brought their skills to a stable environment to slow the impact of assimilation. 

Each of these major migration waves was caused by traumatic events. The exodus in the late 1950s caused by Egypt’s nationalization policies, the Lebanese Civil War in the 1970s, the Islamic Revolution in Iran, the Syrian Civil War and the early years of economic despair in Armenia are examples of calamities that resulted in a transfer of capability to the U.S. diaspora. I often wonder what the state of the Armenian community in America would be today without this influx. It reminds us that immigration is a vital process of replenishment for all, including Armenians. 

The migration of Syrian and Lebanese Armenians in the last 10-15 years to Armenia has not only had a positive impact on the country’s culinary landscape but has also demonstrated outstanding entrepreneurship and work ethic. The evolution of the definition of Armenian identity requires a level of respect and tolerance that has often evaded our thinking. Our clannish nature has had a positive impact on survival but also creates an insular environment. We have, at times, sub-optimized our capabilities by stereotyping within our own ranks. 

I remember a story from my family’s history after the post-World War I genocide period. My grandfather, a native of Sepastia, was an Armenian Legionnaire soldier stationed in Adana as part of the occupation army in Cilicia from 1918-20. During that time, he met and courted my future grandmother, who was from Adana. Her father was opposed to their union simply because my grandfather was not from Adana.

After suffering the genocide, parochial views were still dominant. Geographic biases were far more benign than political prejudices. There was a time when political affiliation meant communal conflict and broken families. As those eras have faded, the church has struggled with prejudgment when terms like “Prelacy” or “Diocese” are mentioned. Instead of asking, “Which church do you go to?” we should focus on the more important question, “Do you go to church?” 

Fortunately, many of these prejudices fade over time, but they still cause significant problems. Perhaps the most damaging observation is that, although the specifics may change, the tendency to prejudge and disrespect continues in our culture. Each generation has contributed to this negativity. When I was growing up, I would hear American Armenians refer to immigrants from the Middle East as “Beirutzis” or “off the boat.” 

Aside from the arrogance of these comments, it is an affront to their own grandparents, who came here on boats. I hear many young people today make comments about our brethren from Armenia, calling them “Stantzis.” Aside from disrespect based on geography, you can read about Zoe’s experience with prejudgment based on knowledge of the Armenian language. Of course, labeling individuals is sometimes meant in jest, but when it divides or prevents meaningful interaction within our community, it is irresponsible. 

We often talk casually about how divided we are as a people, but I wonder if we have internalized the impact. Many of us fervently pursue goals for our global nation that are undermined by stereotypes. After over 100 years as a diaspora community, one would think that we would comprehend that the term “diaspora” is really about diverse and complex sub-cultures. The very nature of the diaspora suggests that we have a common core but an equally unique nature. That uniqueness may be based on geography, blended cultures or individual perspectives on identity. 

Instead of finding ways to wall ourselves off from each other, let’s celebrate the miracle of our existence. When the Turks murdered our ancestors and expelled the remainder, the diaspora was born. Their plan was to murder as many as possible and eventually eliminate the rest through assimilation. Each declaration of identity is a victory to celebrate. When we encounter another Armenian who lives in the diaspora with a defined identity, it is a reason to acknowledge that victory. 

There are many paths to identity. We must respect not only our paths but also the paths of others. What we have in common is a love of identity and a will to survive. As an Armenian born in America, it is a privilege and joy to meet Armenians from Baku, Artsakh, Aleppo or Isfahan. I think it has a great deal to do with how we confront differences. Are we threatened by them because they are not our own, or can we embrace the opportunity to learn from each other? 

If we could only have the wisdom to focus on what unites us rather than what divides us, the windfall would be amazing. We all have a responsibility to tear down the artificial walls of perception that limit us. In the diaspora, discovering our identity should always be a cause for celebration. 

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Stepan Piligian

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Stepan Piligian was raised in the Armenian community of Indian Orchard, Massachusetts, at the St. Gregory Parish. A former member of the AYF Central Executive, he is active in the Armenian community. Currently, he serves on the board of the Armenian Heritage Foundation. Stepan is a retired executive in the computer storage industry and resides in the Boston area with his wife Susan. He has spent many years as a volunteer teacher of Armenian history and contemporary issues to the young generation and adults at schools, camps and churches. His interests include the Armenian diaspora, Armenia, sports and reading.

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