“Go ahead, destroy Armenia. See if you can do it. Send them into the desert without bread or water. Burn their homes and churches. Then see if they will not laugh, sing and pray again. For when two of them meet anywhere in the world, see if they will not create a New Armenia.”- William Saroyan
At first was always in the Armenian community. That is why I didn’t know the feeling of another environment. At the age of four, my parents enrolled me into St. Peter Armenian Saturday School. There I met close friends and learned about my culture, language, and history. I continued spending my Saturdays there for ten years till this May when I graduated. I joined Ara Dance Studio, an Armenian, ballet, jazz, and contemporary dance studio when I started kindergarten. I was so used to being in the Armenian community; it felt like home. Going to my American school setting felt uncomfortable and foreign to me. It was a place where I couldn’t be myself and was pressured to be like everyone else. In my first years in school, I worked hard reading books and watching various shows and movies to help me with my English. Aside from having all these difficulties growing up, it helped me learn to work hard and allowed me to create a self-identity. Therefore, I impressed myself and my family.
Being “different” really got to me when I was in fourth and fifth grade. Kids would purposely pronounce my name wrong to get on my nerves, but they didn’t know how much that hurt me. I just wanted to fit in and be like everyone else, like any other kid during that age. I vividly remember one day I walked into our big living room in tears with my small blue English text book in my right hand. I walked on the brown hardwood flooring to see my mom sitting in the soft brown armchair and my dad next to her on the beige sofa. I lost beat in my breath as my face got tight and bright red. I let go sobbing in my mother’s arms.
“What’s wrong?”, she questioned as she held me in her arms.
“I have a test tomorrow and I don’t understand anything”, I responded as I caught my breath.
“Ok, let’s see”, she added as she opened to the page my bookmark was in.
“I need help”, I said rubbing my eyes.
“It’s ok, we’ll go through it like we did last time”, she whispered.
I explained to her what the test covered as she wiped my tears with her soft hands. She clarified all of the concepts in Armenian till I understood. Events like this occurred all the time growing up when it came to English or reading and it became something I had to deal with.
I was not happy being “different”. I wished I had an American name like my classmates because mine always sounded weird compared to theirs. I wished to be like everyone else. I wished to not feel like the odd one out. I hated feeling like that. I hated myself and my identity. I lost myself.
As I entered high school, I met many kids like me, kids who shared the same culture, values, and traditions. I met kids with different names and backgrounds. I joined the Armenian Cultural Studies Club where I enjoyed meeting up with different Armenian Chaminade students who were just like me and made many great friends from there. I had never experienced going to school with people that had the same culture as me. I helped with school events about the Armenian Genocide, something I am very passionate about.
I was fortunate to meet one of my best friends, Seeran Ajemian. We shared many values and had the best conversations. We were lucky enough to have Honors Biology together during my freshman year. We grew close over the year, working together in the club, sharing fun times, and hanging out after school. Becoming the best of friends, we spoke in Armenian to each other at school and always shared laughs in the process. Our families grew close and also created a great bond. Like almost every Armenian, we had mutual friends and spent time with them together. If it weren’t for Chaminade and the Armenian Cultural Studies Club I wouldn’t have met my best friend Seeran, and wouldn’t have been able to share in our beautiful culture.
I learned to love who I was and where I came from. People would tell me how they thought my name was cool, how they loved the way I looked, or how they loved the fact that I spoke multiple languages; I was so proud of my culture. I learned to love myself, even if I was “different”, and be proud to love my history and culture. I became a grateful, loyal, and devoted Armenian. I started looking up to different Armenian historians and important figures. One of which included the American Armenian author William Saroyan.
Being Armenian has taught me to be loving, to work hard for everything, and most of all to be proud of who I am no matter what happens or what anyone says. I have developed and matured to love who I am and where I come from through my difficulties growing up. Through my life’s struggles and achievements, I have realized that cultural differences help you become more proud of who you are and your background, allowing us to appreciate America's diverse and unique society.
Being “different” really got to me when I was in fourth and fifth grade. Kids would purposely pronounce my name wrong to get on my nerves, but they didn’t know how much that hurt me. I just wanted to fit in and be like everyone else, like any other kid during that age. I vividly remember one day I walked into our big living room in tears with my small blue English text book in my right hand. I walked on the brown hardwood flooring to see my mom sitting in the soft brown armchair and my dad next to her on the beige sofa. I lost beat in my breath as my face got tight and bright red. I let go sobbing in my mother’s arms.
“What’s wrong?”, she questioned as she held me in her arms.
“I have a test tomorrow and I don’t understand anything”, I responded as I caught my breath.
“Ok, let’s see”, she added as she opened to the page my bookmark was in.
“I need help”, I said rubbing my eyes.
“It’s ok, we’ll go through it like we did last time”, she whispered.
I explained to her what the test covered as she wiped my tears with her soft hands. She clarified all of the concepts in Armenian till I understood. Events like this occurred all the time growing up when it came to English or reading and it became something I had to deal with.
I was not happy being “different”. I wished I had an American name like my classmates because mine always sounded weird compared to theirs. I wished to be like everyone else. I wished to not feel like the odd one out. I hated feeling like that. I hated myself and my identity. I lost myself.
As I entered high school, I met many kids like me, kids who shared the same culture, values, and traditions. I met kids with different names and backgrounds. I joined the Armenian Cultural Studies Club where I enjoyed meeting up with different Armenian Chaminade students who were just like me and made many great friends from there. I had never experienced going to school with people that had the same culture as me. I helped with school events about the Armenian Genocide, something I am very passionate about.
I was fortunate to meet one of my best friends, Seeran Ajemian. We shared many values and had the best conversations. We were lucky enough to have Honors Biology together during my freshman year. We grew close over the year, working together in the club, sharing fun times, and hanging out after school. Becoming the best of friends, we spoke in Armenian to each other at school and always shared laughs in the process. Our families grew close and also created a great bond. Like almost every Armenian, we had mutual friends and spent time with them together. If it weren’t for Chaminade and the Armenian Cultural Studies Club I wouldn’t have met my best friend Seeran, and wouldn’t have been able to share in our beautiful culture.
I learned to love who I was and where I came from. People would tell me how they thought my name was cool, how they loved the way I looked, or how they loved the fact that I spoke multiple languages; I was so proud of my culture. I learned to love myself, even if I was “different”, and be proud to love my history and culture. I became a grateful, loyal, and devoted Armenian. I started looking up to different Armenian historians and important figures. One of which included the American Armenian author William Saroyan.
Being Armenian has taught me to be loving, to work hard for everything, and most of all to be proud of who I am no matter what happens or what anyone says. I have developed and matured to love who I am and where I come from through my difficulties growing up. Through my life’s struggles and achievements, I have realized that cultural differences help you become more proud of who you are and your background, allowing us to appreciate America's diverse and unique society.