But, are you "really" Armenian?

Never once have I heard anyone question if Kim Kardashian West is “really” Armenian. Kim has most recently taken interest in her Armenian roots when her sisters, husband and children visited Armenia in 2015. Currently she is studying law and planning to pursue a new hobby: recognition of the Armenian Genocide. And as of recent news, Kim will return to Armenia to attend the World Congress of Information Technology in Armenia. Yet, no one ever questions her Armenian-ness during interviews or their infamous family television series "Keeping Up With the Kardashians". It's ironic for a celebrity who only recently came around to embracing her Armenian identity like Kim to never have to justify her Armenian-ness.

Unlike Kim, I don’t enjoy her status of being “really" Armenian. One of the most common questions I encounter during my fieldwork experience is whether or not I am “really” Armenian. For many of my friends who understand identities as complex and multilayered, this may come as a rather odd question while others may have a shared or similar experience. My brilliant friend Ana suggested, “those of us who had to leave Geo political spaces, or who feel the limits of borders and our bodies understand the complexities in a different way than those who never been asked this question”. Indeed, Ana is right.  Some people will never have to experience discrimination or interrogation due to their privilege(s). For me, this is one of those many moments during fieldwork where my inside/outside identity plays tricks on my body.

But really, what does it mean to be "really" Armenian? By now, I imagine(d) that the Armenian society would have moved passed a traditional notion of being Armenian and could understand identity from a wide(r) spectrum. More specifically, I imagined we wouldn't continue claiming that the "blood flowing in our veins are the colors of the Armenian flag" (tricolor: red, blue, orange). When forced to confront this question, "But, are you really Armenian?" I revert to my family history which does not go too far back. 

I relive my grandmother's survival story when traveling through the Der Zor desert and arriving in Haleb as an orphan as the rest of her family were killed off.

 I remember my parents' upbringing where education was expensive and at a young age, they needed to join the work force.

I recall my parents' stories growing up in Haleb and then moving to Beirut where they lived through many wars only to escape and eventually settle in the United States. As a child, my first language was Armenian.  Growing up in Rhode Island, I spent the weekends in our Armenian community where I went to Saturday Armenian school and Sunday School.  During the week, I attended public American school where I always knew I was "different".

Every time I encounter that question, I retell this story holding back my tears, never letting them know or see what "really" being Armenian has meant for me.