I am the child of a people who were born ten thousand years ago at the foot of Mount Ararat. I am a child of a people who advocate peace and humanity.
Yes, I am a child of a person who has always lived on the same land and never had a desire for others.
I am the child of a people who have no treasure to offer you but will give you his bread when you knock on his door.
I am the child of a people whose faith is unshakable. Yes… I am the child of a people exiled, forgotten, and let go in the chairs of hatred.
I am the child who holds the stigma of genocide. Those of my grandfather, 6 years old walking on his mother’s bloody body to escape the most horrific barbarism.
So you keep telling whoever needs to hear it that I have a visceral need to exist. Forgive me for singing, writing, dancing, creating, laughing, and most of all loving so hard because this is the best way I found to survive.
Because I am the child of the Armenian people. Give it a try.