Living in diaspora often comes with a mix of feelings:

Love and understanding for the sacrifices of your ancestors as well as the pressure to make their sacrifices worth it
Pride in cultural heritage while also feeling disconnected from or at odds with parts of your heritage
Feeling like you don’t fit into certain familial cultural standards and also struggling to fully fit into the culture of the country you reside in
A deep longing to reclaim and reconnect to parts of you that feel lost while maybe not knowing where to start

In my younger years, I had the privilege of attending an Armenian private school. While this was helpful in introducing me to the culture of my ancestors, there were times when I felt judged and unseen by the social structures being taught. I recall being called “too feminine” for the way I spoke, the movement of my hands when I got animated in conversation, and when I displayed “too much” empathy. There, I learned how to be palatable for others, meet the expectation to be Armenian “enough”, speak the language, and fit the role of what is expected of a firstborn Armenian son. Parents would say that “Armenian friends are the only ones who will show up for you,” and “you can’t trust anyone else.” These statements were true while I played the role that was “required” of me. This acceptance was based on my compliance.

It is important to acknowledge that as children of immigrants, we are used to collectivistic cultures; however, the traumas experienced by our ancestors can have a large impact on how this is expressed. In the experiences of my family, having survived genocide and war, the statements my parents shared were true for them; they were not lying to me, they were teaching me what they knew about survival. As I grew older, this wisdom that was shared with me did not translate over. Again resurfaced the pressure to perform and be “enough” for the sake of community. I was to ignore my own feelings, sexual orientation, and identity. By my teenage years, as I began to accept my sexuality, a lot of what I was taught about community vanished. There seemed to be no room for me in my own “community” anymore. With this act of self-discovery and acceptance, I was also made to feel completely disconnected from my culture. Suddenly, I was on the outside, an “odar”— a word typically used in Armenian to denote a foreigner, stranger, or “other.” I was an Armenian kid in an American world. I had to learn to navigate public school, build new friendships, and learn a new set of cultural norms.

In many ways, I was and am so proud of my rich cultural heritage, yet I was told that I was not enough for my culture based on gender identity, sexual orientation, beliefs, values and more. This drove the internalized message of inadequacy even deeper. Feeling I could not fit into the culture of my ancestors, I began to resent and reject it. My twenties would become a time of exploration and eventually, finding the balance of the two worlds I carried in me. I longed to reconnect to my ancestors and culture. The process was slow; the path was not visible. What eventually brought me back into the community was the ability to connect online with other queer Armenians who shared similar interests. I have seen the diasporic Armenian community come together to support one another, sharing recipes, lace and embroidery skills, historical resources, long-forgotten practices of our people, and most importantly, information out of the love of preserving and reembracing culture without judgment. Here, through time, I was able to deconstruct the internalized beliefs of not being enough for my culture, and instead embraced that just being and engaging is being enough. I was able to see that there are many ways of being Armenian and that they are all valid. I was able to meet others at the intersections of gender and sexual identity who also embraced their ethnic identity. I was able to learn about a long history of indigenous queer and gender fluid Armenians, realizing that it wasn’t Armenian culture that didn’t embrace me, but the version of culture that was based in survival and safety. I reclaimed the fullness of my cultural heritage while also embracing the fullness of who I am - and I realized that there is absolutely room for both.

Have you grown up feeling stuck between cultures? Have you been made to feel like you were not “enough” for the culture of your ancestors? As children of immigrants, reconciling this is the road we create on our own. Attempting to reconnect to ancestral culture can feel disheartening when you think you have to get it “right” or do it perfectly for it to be considered valid. It can be hard when the version of culture that has been passed on or modeled to you negates certain parts of who you are and what is meaningful to you. In what ways would meaningfully reconnecting to your culture add to your healing and soothe the wounds that might have come from living between cultures? Here are some ways to explore and deepen your connection to your culture.

Connecting Through The Body

Remember that your culture already lives within you. While we may not be in our homelands, our homelands continue to live within us.

Cook ancestral foods
Wear clothing, jewelry, or colors that are predominantly used in your culture
Reconnect through scent: light incense or burn candles
Start a diasporic garden featuring culturally significant herbs, fruits, or vegetables.

Here are a few photos from the garden of my aunt, who has tended to diasporic plants and has passed down her love and knowledge to others.

Getting Comfortable With Asking Questions

Many of us inherited silence, avoidance, or secrecy around our culture’s past, especially if there was trauma, war, genocide, or forced migration. We may also feel “less than” for our lack of knowledge. Remember that not knowing is ok, and to learn and experience is to be human.

Ask relatives or community elders about their memories and traditions they observed.
If direct conversation isn’t possible, look at old photos, objects, or recordings.
Write letters to your ancestors or your native lands.

Collective Remembrance

Attend cultural events, ceremonies, or holidays in your area (food festivals are my favorite!)
Join online or in-person diaspora communities focused on your background (sewing circles, book clubs,
Volunteer with groups preserving cultural traditions.

Connecting to culture doesn’t have to follow a script. Culture is created when we allow ourselves to also participate in our own ways. There can still be respect for culture and ancestors while adapting to current circumstances and ways of being.

Written by: Jean Donabedian, AMFT, APCC

Jean (he/they) is a queer, 2nd generation Armenian immigrant Registered Associate Marriage and Family Therapist as well as a Registered Associate Professional Clinical Counseling at Noor Therapy and Wellness who helps BIPOC and LGBTQ+ flox find balance between culture and identity.