It's a strange feeling to be the first generation in my family to be born in the United States.
Sometimes it feels normal, but other times, I'm reminded that I'm privileged.
I often feel stuck between two cultures that are completely different from each other.
"Do you feel more Armenian or more American?" My friends ask me. They don't understand.
I feel like I'm both and none at the same time. With Americans, I feel Armenian. With Armenians,
I feel American. Why? Because these cultures couldn't be more different.
I feel Armenian when I dance. I feel Armenian when I hear the beat of the drums and the Shalakho music starts and I throw my hands up and kick my feet to our music. I feel Armenian when I invite my friends over and feed them dinner. Give them snacks. Dessert. Wine. I feel Armenian when people ask me where I'm from or where my accent is from. "I'm from California," I tell them. "But I'm Armenian." Because I know what they're really asking. And even if I tell them I'm American, they won't believe me. Because I don't look like them.
When I'm with Armenians, I feel American. Why? Because there are so many traditions in the Armenian culture. This is what we're doing because this is what we've always done. They say. I think I'm allergic to this phrase. I like new things. Challenges. Freedom. The unknown. The unexpected. Possibilities. I feel American when I talk to my family. When I take risks and they want me to take the safe path. I feel American when I speak. With freedom. And boldness.
I like to think, I'm Armenian "American." Because the blood in my veins is Armenian. I feel the best when I eat Armenian food. It was my first language. My name is Armenian. But, I'm free. And privileged that I get to live in America and forge my own path. Outside of the norm. Outside of tradition. With risks. And no security. Because I've been led here. By the stars. By God. And my ancestors watch me. "Speak," they tell me. "You set us free when you speak."