August 23, 2011:
I experienced the beginnings of an existential crisis after I left high school and entered university. I was utterly confused about some things and surer than ever about others. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, but I knew that I didn’t want to be studying Journalism, nor did I know what would be the next best option. I also didn’t know if I wanted to be in a relationship with my (now ex) boyfriend anymore. What I did know, however, was that I was done living in the comfortable little bubble that my beloved Catholic high school and private Armenian elementary school had built for me, and in an act of defiance-and rebellion-I renounced my Christianity, officially declared myself as an agnostic, and eventually gave up on religion altogether when I became an atheist. I also became involved in political activism and garnered a huge interest in feminism. I was now an atheist, an activist, and a feminist. Yikes.
I experienced the beginnings of an existential crisis after I left high school and entered university. I was utterly confused about some things and surer than ever about others. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life, but I knew that I didn’t want to be studying Journalism, nor did I know what would be the next best option. I also didn’t know if I wanted to be in a relationship with my (now ex) boyfriend anymore. What I did know, however, was that I was done living in the comfortable little bubble that my beloved Catholic high school and private Armenian elementary school had built for me, and in an act of defiance-and rebellion-I renounced my Christianity, officially declared myself as an agnostic, and eventually gave up on religion altogether when I became an atheist. I also became involved in political activism and garnered a huge interest in feminism. I was now an atheist, an activist, and a feminist. Yikes.
The biggest leap for me was closing the door on my religion. This is especially a huge deal for an Armenian; after all, Armenia was the first nation in history to declare Christianity as its official religion. But for me, the decision was not only easy, but also essential. After four years of sitting through bullshit religion classes and having to endure insane teachers ruthlessly shoving their beliefs down my throat, I had had enough. Although I loved my high school more than words can say, I left that place cynical, disdainful, and disgusted by religion. Now, I see religion as an important aspect of my culture; I respect it, and I respect the history of it, but I do not see the need to practise it. I do not even mind going to church with my family every once in a while. I participate in the customs: when I enter the church, I light a candle and say a short prayer before listening to the (2 freaking hour) sermon and hymns. To avoid being hypocritical, my “prayers” go something like this: “If there is, by any chance, a god up there, I sure don’t deserve anything from you after all I’ve said and thought about you. But please, if you DO exist, keep my family and my loved ones safe, healthy, and happy. Thanks.”
Before I officially decided to just ditch the façade and be an atheist, I called myself an agnostic—but I was really just a lousy Christian. My ex was an atheist too—which isn’t surprising, seeing as he was born in Communist Armenia--and when we would talk about religion he would go on and on about philosophy and the proofs against the existence of god (he was taking a philosophy class, therefore he thought that made him a philosopher), and it just annoyed me. I would argue in favour of religion just because what he was saying pissed me off, and I wanted to stump him. I wanted to prove him wrong, because that’s what I like doing--proving people wrong. ESPECIALLY him. And I always won (debating was never his forte). It was only after our relationship ended that I realised I really AM an atheist at heart—I only talked myself into being agnostic so that I could piss my boyfriend off. I thought that was pretty damn pathetic, so I finally adopted my true beliefs.
Another big decision I made while in my first year at university was to become more involved in the Armenian community. I’ve always been “involved” in some way or another: I went to an Armenian private school from the age of three to fourteen, I kept in touch with some of my classmates, and I also dragged my ass to a few social events. But I was never involved “behind the scenes”, mostly because I felt like I didn’t fit in. I still don’t fit in, and I never will, but I’ll discuss that later.
I joined the Armenian Students Association at my university, and I immediately loved it… and hated it. I met a few new people who completely turned around my idea of what a typical Armenian is. These people were smart, down-to-earth, and just…different. Well, they were at first. It was only until I a) spent more time with them and b) got involved in some ridiculous, daytime soap-esque drama that I really got to know them. And while they didn’t end up being exactly what I thought they were, they were still a little off-beat—and I liked that. I realised that you just can’t be involved with Armenians and avoid drama. It’s not humanly possible. And as much as I like to argue, I avoid conflict like the plague, which is why I was so surprised when I experienced that true, raw, utterly Armenian drama a number of months ago. It shook me up. It was kind of like an initiation: now, I was truly Armenian.
And so, after a brief period of being tricked into thinking that I had underestimated these people all along, I was back to that familiar feeling: a frustrating combination of love and hatred. I realised that, as much as I love them, I will never fit in with Armenians. My relationship with my culture is a lot like how my relationship with my ex-boyfriend was: we loved each other deeply, but there were fundamental flaws that kept us from being truly happy. We experienced bouts of euphoric happiness and depression, a veritable roller coaster of emotion. This is exactly how I feel about my culture and my community, except that my ex had the guts to get off the ride and pull the plug—and, when I say he “had the guts”, I do not mean he was right in his decision. You see, the fatal flaw (or greatest strength?) of my character is that I do not know when to quit. For me, quitting is never an option; you ride things through until they get better. The roller coaster has to ease up at some point, right? It’s going to stop being bad. Which is why I haven’t given up on Armenians, and I probably never will. The day I stop being involved with Armenians is the day I quit, and if I quit, well…I would no longer be myself, now would I?
