Last year, on the one-year mark of the Artsakh exodus, I felt a deep sadness. More than 100,000 Armenians were forced to leave their ancestral homes in Artsakh in September 2023, and as the anniversary approached, I felt the weight of that loss hit me all over again. I wanted to be surrounded by my community, to grieve and remember together, but in New York City — a place with such a vibrant Armenian presence — there seemed to be very few events during the week of commemoration.

At first, I was disappointed by the quiet. But then, I found myself asking: If I longed for something meaningful, why hadn’t I taken the initiative to create it? That realization became a turning point. Although I had been hesitant about the challenges of organizing, I decided this year to take that step and create a space to honor Artsakh.

Nina Shahverdyan (left) and Sarine Arzoumanian (right)

Together with my friend Nina Shahverdyan, who was herself displaced from Artsakh, we organized a cultural celebration at St. Illuminator’s Armenian Apostolic Cathedral on Sunday, September 21. From the very beginning, the support we received was overwhelming. The church welcomed us, friends volunteered and members of the community eagerly offered their help. What began as an idea between the two of us quickly grew into an afternoon of food, dance and remembrance.

Community members making their own jingyalov hats

We were especially fortunate to have the support of Marietta Avagyan, owner of 7 Beans Café in Brooklyn and a native of Hadrut in Artsakh. Marietta led a jingyalov hats workshop, generously sharing not just her skills but also her love for the traditions of her homeland. The hall rang with laughter as people rolled dough, stuffed herbs and cooked the beloved flatbread of Artsakh. Afterward, we gathered to eat and the celebration continued with dancing led by Armin Minassian. The night was joyful, warm and deeply connected to Artsakh’s spirit. At one point, a woman from the church asked if I was from Artsakh. When I said no, she told me she had assumed I was because of how passionate I seemed. That moment stayed with me.

Passion for Artsakh should not be limited to those who were born there. Every Armenian should carry that fire.

Two years ago, so many of us shouted, protested and mourned together in the streets. We should not allow that energy to fade when the headlines quiet down, especially when our community needs it.

What struck me most about this day was the presence and support of the community. People showed up, helped and celebrated together. In honoring Artsakh, we were affirming that its culture — songs, dance, food and spirit — still lives on through us.

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The lesson I learned is simple: it’s up to us. We cannot place the weight of cultural preservation solely on the shoulders of those from Artsakh — they have already carried unimaginable burdens.

As a diaspora born of genocide survivors, we know what it means to rebuild, to safeguard and to carry culture forward in new lands.

 For generations, Armenians in the diaspora have organized events to honor and celebrate the culture of Western Armenia. Now, it is our responsibility to do the same for Artsakh.

We cannot afford to avoid Artsakh out of grief or discomfort. We must celebrate it, uplift it and make sure its traditions remain alive in our communities. The survival of Artsakh’s culture depends on it.

Click to view slideshow.

This year showed me that it takes only a few people to spark something meaningful, and once you take initiative, the community will rally around you. That can mean organizing your own gathering, or showing up for events others have created. Either way, you become part of a cycle of energy and care that sustains us all.

I was able to do both — helping organize a cultural event, participating in ANCA advocacy days, arranging a documentary screening and postcard-writing commemoration on September 27 for the five-year anniversary of the 44-Day War and attending a vigil hosted by another organization that same evening. Together, we can create the spaces where Artsakh lives on.

Because in the end, it’s up to us.

All photos are courtesy of Tamar Lakissian

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