16 years ago i was watching my first ArmeniaFund Telethon. I was about 3 months into my new life in US and I cant say I was thinking much about my Armenian-ness. I was born and raised in Moscow. I just turned 17. I didnt speak Armenian. I could wing Ov Sirun Sirun if I had to and I could dance up a storm to Shalakho, but I didnt happen to have Armenian friends growing up. There was no Armenian community in my life besides my immediate family. I was watching the Telethon that day only because my head-to-toe Armenian aunt and Baku-refugee wanted to watch it. Alone at home at some point passing by the TV I saw a segment about a school in Artsakh i think. Teenagers were posing for a group photo after a game. Wide angle group shot. Nothing unusual. I wouldve probably carried on whatever I was doing if it wasnt for a closeup of their faces, particularly their eyes ... Those were my people. I didnt think it, I felt it. I felt it so acutely, I was crying in front of the TV. Balling my eyes out would actually be more accurate. You know when you look someone in the eyes and see depth+truth+strength+vulnerability and you feel pinned and moved by their story without even knowing the details. Maybe it was a cosmic humor by my witty ancestral spirits to remind me who I was … Every year #ArmeniaFund Telethon reminds me of that day as I support their tremendous work and transformations it produces not only in Armenia and Artsakh, but in the minds and hearts of Armenians at large. Happy thanksGiving!
Posted on: Thu, 27 Nov 2014 19:58:17 +0000
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