How ‘We Are All Armenian’ collection gives voice to a range of experiences
Aram Mrjoian was reading the work of writers who, like him, are of Armenian heritage and noticed something pervasive.
Regardless of the type of story being told, Mrjoian saw writers commenting on the Armenian Genocide and ensuing population displacement. He perceived a “constant demand for context, particularly historic context” within the varied works, though he understood the reason for it.
“At least in my own experience, that was often an editorial demand coming not from my own writing but from the sense of what editors are looking for,” said the writer, who is an editor-at-large at the Chicago Review of Books and associate fiction editor at Guernica, during a recent phone call.
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With that in mind, Mrjoian wanted to develop a project where Armenian writers didn’t have to explain Armenian history over and over again. And now it’s here: “We Are All Armenian: Voices from the Diaspora,” just published by the University of Texas Press, brings together essays from 18 writers who have Armenian ancestry and offer different perspectives on ethnicity and identity to the collection.
“All of them understood the assignment right away,” says Mrjoian. “Even though I didn’t give anyone specific subject matter, all the essays came back completely different, which was really exciting.”
While the history of the Armenian Genocide might not be something that always needs to be explained, it’s part of what makes this collection important and necessary, says novelist Chris Bohjalian, author of such books as “The Sandcastle Girls,” “Midwives” and “The Flight Attendant.”
“Of the roughly ten million Armenians on the planet, fewer than 30 percent live in Armenia. Most of us are descendants of survivors of a Genocide who were robbed of everything, including their — our — homeland. We are a diaspora people,” says Bohjalian in an email interview. “Moreover, because there are so few of us on the planet, we are a people who live on a tightrope: if we fall too far to one side, we risk assimilation and the loss of our heritage. If we fall to the other, we risk cultural banishment and remain forever the outsiders.”
Explaining why he decided to participate in the project, Bohjalian says this: “I cannot stress enough the demographic cataclysm today of having perhaps as many as three-fourths of our ancestors in the Ottoman Empire exterminated a little over a century ago. Our homeland, including Artsakh, is beleaguered both by the simple fact we are badly outnumbered by nation-states to the east and west that still do not want us to exist, and by the reality that it’s hard to get Western nations to pay attention to us. Try explaining the Lachin corridor linking Artsakh with Armenia to someone in, for instance, Washington, D.C. who cannot even find Armenia on a map or is unaware of the Armenian Genocide.”
Moreover, while Mrjoian was working on the book, a major event brought the historical context into the spotlight. In the fall of 2020, the 44-Day War (or the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War) over the ethnic Armenian enclave of Artsakh mobilized those in the global Armenian diaspora and rekindled calls for wider recognition of the Armenian Genocide.
“At that time, too, I was putting everything together, writing my introduction, thinking this changes the way I write an introduction,” Mrjoian recalls, “This changes the way that people are going to read these essays.”
Moreover, the struggle didn’t end with a ceasefire. Since December 2022, the Armenians of Artsakh have been living under a blockade, as Azerbaijan closed off the Lachin Corridor, effectively leaving an estimated 120,000 people without access to food, medicine and other essentials. Despite calls from world leaders and international human rights organizations for Azerbaijan to end the blockade, it persisted through the winter and is still ongoing.
But that’s not all that may change how readers digest these essays. In early February, a 7.8 magnitude earthquake hit portions of Turkey and Syria. The devastation includes regions of both countries that have been historic homes to Armenians and where there are still Armenian populations.
In his essay, “Going Home Again,” Bohjalian writes of his own travels to Turkey, specifically his ancestral hometown of Kayseri.
In our email interview, Bohjialian notes that, while he hasn’t heard of much damage to Kayseri as a result of the earthquake, he has previously visited cities that were severely impacted, like Adana, Gaziantep, Diyarbakir and Sanliurfa.
“Among the small moments of grace in the devastation is this: the restored Armenian church in Diyarbakir, Surp Giragos, has been sheltering homeless earthquake survivors the past few weeks. (It experienced very little damage.),” he writes. “Surp Giragos is among the most beautiful churches I’ve seen anywhere. In January, it was a symbol for people who lost everything in 1915; in February, it became a haven for people who lost everything in 2023.”
Overall, though, the essays within “We Are All Armenian” point to the varied experiences within the diaspora. “Because we’re a global diaspora, we’re all experiencing elements of culture, elements of religion, food, philosophy, language differently in different parts of the world,” says Mrjoian. “It’s not going to look the same. It’s kind of hyper-local.”
And the breadth of experiences — including those who are multiethnic, multiracial and LGBTQ+, as well as those who didn’t grow up embedded in Armenian communities and don’t speak the language — is important to consider. Mrjoian says that he hopes the book might prompt conversations about inclusivity regarding ethnic heritage.
“You can’t dictate that one person has a right to their heritage and one doesn’t,” says Mrjoian. “I’m hoping that when an audience sees this, they’ll see that it’s really meant to welcome people in and maybe some of the conversations around it might be difficult, but those conversations hopefully help us move forward and progress.”