English Translation of Bedros Keljik’s "Armenian-American Sketches" Published

Prof. Barlow Der Mugrdechian, Berberian Coordinator of the Armenian Studies Program, announced that the English translation of Bedros Keljik’s Armenian-American Sketches has been published as volume 8 in the Armenian Series of The Press, at California State University, Fresno.

The Immigration Agents Changed My Family Name – Not!

Mark Arslan

How many times have your heard that immigration agents at Ellis Island (New York) changed your Armenian family’s name when they arrived in this country? This is a prevailing narrative in popular culture, especially in movies and literature, not just for Diaspora Armenians in the United States and Canada, but for other ethnic groups, as well.

However, it is a myth. Armenian names often changed when they settled in America, but for different reasons altogether. Ellis Island, which opened in 1892, was one of many seaports for processing immigrants coming to the U.S. and Canada on passenger steamships in the late 1800s and early 1900s. They also arrived at ports like Halifax (Nova Scotia), St. John (New Brunswick), and Quebec City (Quebec) in Canada; in America, they docked in Providence (Rhode Island), Philadelphia (Pennsylvania), Boston (Massachusetts), and San Francisco (California) as well as many others. The majority of passengers did arrive at Ellis Island. The Statue of Liberty – Ellis Island Foundation, One-Step Web Pages by Stephen P. Morse, FamilySearch, Ancestry and other organizations provide tools for searching passenger arrivals at various ports of arrival. The key resource for documenting passengers arriving at American ports is called a “ship manifest,” which is a form (designed according to the incoming country’s current immigration laws) that lists everyone being “delivered” to that port (more on this later).

Valley View: An Armenian Diasporic Account in Lieu of a Glendale Biennial Review

Mashinka Firunts Hakopian

 

1.

“NO” WAS THE only word my grandmother, Lida Khatchatrian, knew in English. She declined to learn any others. The only relation she wanted to the English language was one of radical unintelligibility. After immigrating at 70, my grandmother launched a 16-year performance of linguistic refusal. It was staged for a private audience of émigré intimates. No recordings were made.

We relocated from Yerevan to Glendale in 1991, like so many. By 2017, approximately 40 percent of the city’s residents were of Armenian descent, marking it as the largest diasporic population of Armenians in the West. In Glendale, it was still possible to live in Armenian dialects. On East Acacia Avenue, we gathered with neighbors to hear the Soviet Socialist Republic collapsing at the end of a long-distance telephone call we could not afford.

I am telling you this because I recognize that there are no views outside of embodied viewers and historically contingent practices of looking.

When I was 15, we moved to a street in the Glendale foothills from which you could see the mountains. It was called Valley View.

Intersections: Armenians sign on to help homeland

Liana Aghajanian

 

"The dispersion of any people from their original homeland" is the dictionary definition of diaspora, but it doesn't do much to capture the complexity, challenges, nuance and difficulty of what it means to function outside of the place you originally came from.

When you're involuntarily dispersed across the world, forcibly losing culture, you sometimes spend a lifetime trying to get it back. Sometimes there is success, but you often end up with more questions. You try to find your grounding, but end up permanently stuck in limbo.

It is not easy being part of a diaspora, no matter your background. Things feel fragmented — your identity, your loyalty, your language and family.

Armenians have been part of the American fabric for centuries, having contributed to society in ways that are often unseen — from medical advancements, law, art, entertainment and politics. These contributions are often ignored or unknown, but important. They offer a complex, three-dimensional glimpse of our legacy in this country.

Toumani’s ‘There Was and There Was Not’ Not Recommended

Raffi Meneshian

 

Meline Toumani’s “There Was and There Was Not: A Journey Through Hate and Possibility in Turkey, Armenia, and Beyond” is arguably one of the more critically acclaimed Armenian Genocide themed books to come along in years. It has been nominated as a finalist for the 2014 National Book Critics Circle Awards in the category of autobiography and has garnered an impressive array of glowing reviews from publications ranging from The New York Times to The Economist. Having signed with the imprint Metropolitan/Henry Holt/Picador, part of the McMillan family of book publishers, Toumani has major muscle behind promoting the memoir. Her appearances on various radio talk shows, television programs and a recent high profile Op-Ed have had two overtly consistent themes- 1. Armenians need to get over the issue of Armenian Genocide recognition and 2. They have been brought up to indiscriminately hate Turks. Yet, as many strain to recall exactly who Meline Toumani is, her book has been met with some interest, some anger, and a whole lot of blank stares within the Armenian community.

An Armenian Christmas Surprise

Jon Morgenstern

 



Dear Diary,
Last week I was at J.F.K., shivering my way into a taxi, en route to Park Slope. Relieved to be heading home, I decided not to plug in my headphones and talk to Carl, the driver, instead.
I gave him my address. We talked about the weather. He asked where I was from. Somehow we got around to my parents living in Los Angeles.
Carl: “No kidding. I used to live out there. There’s a big Armenian population over in Glendale.”
Me: “Wait, you’re Armenian? I’m Armenian. Well, 25 percent. My mom’s last name is Tutelian.” (Armenian names typically end in “ian.”)
Carl: “My man!” He thrust his hand in my direction for a shake. “Bakalian, that’s my name.”
The conversation immediately steered toward all things Armenian, especially food. I mentioned that I loved lahmajun, a thin-crusted “Armenian pizza” with minced lamb and spices. Carl moaned, “Ahhhh, lahmaJUN! When was the last time you had some good lahmajun?”
“Not for a long while,” I said.
“Well you’re not going find it in Brooklyn,” Carl declared. “Massis in Sunnyside is it. I can bring you some.”
Me: “Seriously?”
Carl: “Yeah, seriously!”
Fast forward five days. My phone rings.
“Come down and meet me on the corner,” said the voice. “I’m in a hurry.”
I sprinted down and rushed over to Carl’s car. The trunk is open. He pulled out two dozen lahmajun and handed them to me.
“This is my Armenian Christmas gift to you,” he said. “I gotta run.”
I could barely utter “thank you” before he got in his car and drove away. Merry Christmas, Carl.

"The New York Times," December 25, 2013

Peddlers of Colored Beads

Vartan Matiossian

This is part of a report published by the newspaper "Marmara" of Istanbul and reproduced in the Armenian secton of "Asbarez" (April 2, 2013):

"Ismet Ozel, a poet well known in conservative circles of Turkey, has made a sensational declaration about Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's apology to Turkey. According to the website Internethaber, Ozel has claimed that the apology by Israel prepares the terrain for the apology of the Armenian Genocide by Turkey and even for the probability of paying reparations. According to Ozel, the 'apology' by Israel is part of a gran plan for 2015 "forced" by America through pressure of the CIA.