1 - Diaspora, Nostos and Longing

Summary

As an Iranian Armenian woman who was born and raised in Tehran, I have gone through multiple processes of identity-formation, and all this is dramatised in the context of Muslim–Christian relationships in Iran. My family is one of the most open-minded and least nationalist Armenian families I have known in my life. Contrary to the norm back in the 1990s, when Iranian Armenian women, as the bearers of the culture, used to predominantly settle down and start a family right after high school, I chose to continue my education and pursue a career as an English teacher. This of course meant that I would potentially have more encounters with the Muslim world. Much gossip circulated about my decision within the Armenian community of my neighbourhood, criticising my dad for not providing me with pocket money so that I would not go to work. Right after high school I was hired as an ESL teacher at an extra-curricular English language school to teach English to elementary school children. Both of these opportunities – pursuing higher education and employment – provided me with a chance to venture outside of my Armenian bubble (Armenian neighbourhoods are largely demarcated in Iran) and later translated into further interaction with Muslim Iranians. My parents were proud of me, but, of course, this apparent success was not without criticism from the community. At the time, a story was going around about an Armenian girl who got married to a Muslim man; the girl was a college student, like myself. I was then dating a young Armenian man who made a point to comment on the incident, saying that this was the consequence of going to college with Muslims. We broke up soon after. From my early years on, I had tendencies towards thinking outside the box and questioning old beliefs. My mother keeps telling me that she knew I was different even before I was one year old; I was curious, loved the unfamiliar. I could not box and define myself as rigidly as most others did. For example, several times in my youth, I asked my parents why we never celebrated Nowruz; after all, it was a national celebration of the New Year and not a religious one.