BY SEVANA KOPALIAN
Since I was a little girl, I’ve felt a sense of shame while living in America.
It was September 27th, 2020, I had just woken up. I was getting ready to open Zoom and log into my first period class. All of a sudden, my dad forwards our family group chat a news article that said a war had begun in Artsakh. My heart sank into my stomach. That sense of shame and guilt was brought upon me once again.
I thought to myself: “How is it fair that I get to live my life in America without constantly worrying if and when a war is going to start, while my brothers and sisters in Armenia live with that fear everyday?” It was a question that could not be answered.
The first time I visited Armenia was in 2017. Stepping off the plane and walking into the Zvartnots airport, I felt peace and at home in a place that was unprecedented for me. When I saw my grandpa, uncles, aunts, and cousins for the first time, they showered me with love, kisses, and hugs. I could feel myself tearing up from the overwhelming joy in that moment.
Seeing my mothers childhood home and the streets she would play on with the kids in her neighborhood block, I felt that I was robbed of a childhood. I wasn’t able to play in the streets as a kid without feeling unsafe. I felt anger, disappointment, and I never wanted to leave. At that age, I couldn’t possibly fathom why my mother ever moved to America in the first place.
Then came the time to go back to America. My heart felt so heavy, I was leaving the place I felt most at home at.
The second time I visited Armenia was in 2023. I was a little bit older and had a more mature perspective of life. When I saw my family again, that same feeling of overwhelming joy rushed into my heart. This time the tears were coming from a place of guilt, the same guilt that has taunted me for years.
I was looking at my cousins feeling so culpable, because they have had to see and experience so much at such a young age. Because I was older, I started to understand and view things in a different way than I did the first time I was there. I saw how happy my cousins would get over the smallest things, and I felt so embarrassed of the ways I acted in the past over insignificant materialistic things. I felt so appreciative yet so horrible at the same time. At that moment, if I could give everything I owned to my cousins, I would.
After that trip I had a different overview of how I felt. I still had a small residue of guilt in my heart, but my appreciation overthrew that guilt. I grew to learn that my voice in the diaspora is not dimmed, but instead enlightened. I can reach so many people in so many different ways, and I don’t need to be living in Armenia to do so.
My ancestors fought to survive in the genocide, and as a result my family and I ended up in America. It’s an opportunity that every diasporan should seize, so that we can spread our knowledge about our history in America to acquaint ignorant people with our story.
Even though I am 7,193.02 miles away from my homeland, I carry its culture, food, warmth, and people with me everyday.
Sevana Kopalian is a junior at Holy Martyrs Ferrahian High School
