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Always home: Reflections on the 2025 Pomegranate Film Festival
By Nadine Araksi
My 20-year-old son doesn't speak Armenian. I had told myself for years that's why we didn't belong at community events anymore. I felt shame each time I had to explain why I'd married outside the culture or why my kids grew up speaking only English. The life choices I made had consequences. I accepted that the door was closed. Safer that way.
But on Sunday evening, after volunteering all weekend at the 18th Pomegranate Film Festival (POM), my son Nate joined me at Hamazkayin Theatre for the final awards ceremony. He's always been curious about his heritage—the only one of my two kids who climbed to the top of the Cascade during our 2019 trip to Yerevan, asking questions I didn't always know how to answer. I had pulled away from community for so long that I'd never shown him how to belong to something I barely believed I deserved myself.
When the ceremony ended, and volunteers started breaking down to get the cafeteria and front entrance ready for school the next day, I asked if he'd help stack chairs. He said yes, working alongside people who'd been doing this for years, like he'd always belonged there.
"This is actually pretty cool, Mom," he said quietly while we worked.
That's when I understood: The story I'd been telling myself—about not belonging, about doors closing, about consequences—wasn't true.
A week of stories worth telling
The 18th edition of the festival ran November 10-16, splitting between online screenings early in the week and in-person events at Toronto's Hamazkayin Theatre. Nearly 30 films from 10 countries. Over a dozen Canadian and North American premieres. Twenty filmmakers who travelled from around the world to be here, all supported by an entirely volunteer operation run through the Hamazkayin Klatsor chapter.
I had shown up to volunteer for the first time, unsure what to expect. A lifelong cinephile whose early career was in film and TV production, offering my hands to help felt like a homecoming in more ways than one.
What I witnessed was cultural preservation happening in real time. High school students scanned tickets for graduation credit, working alongside organizers who started the same way—former students who kept coming back. Here was a team that understood what the word ‘committee really means: commitment, year after year, taking time from work and families to bring these stories home.
Between volunteer shifts, I had the privilege of watching select films, stories of resistance, survival, and unexpected joy. Three films in particular showed me what it means to carry culture forward.
The film that changed the room
When Eric Nazarian's “Die Like a Man” screened Saturday afternoon, you could feel the audience's hesitation. A film by an Armenian filmmaker that's not about Armenians? About gang violence in working-class Los Angeles?
By the time the credits rolled, they were on their feet.
The film follows Freddy, a teenager caught between a gang mentor and his desperate mother. It's unflinching about what it costs to perform masculinity where tenderness gets you killed. Before the screening, Academy Award-nominated director Atom Egoyan appeared via video to introduce his friend's Canadian premiere, setting the tone for an afternoon that felt more like a reckoning than a film screening.
The film received both the Audience Choice Award for Feature Film and an Honourable Mention from the Festival Jury. Nazarian's acceptance speech named what I'd been feeling all weekend. "Cinema is my religion, and the movie theatre is the church," he said. "You come to get an experience, to walk out, and hopefully be moved
by a spiritual act. Without you, movies cannot exist."
Raising his award toward the crowd, he added: "Here's to reclaiming the Armenian narrative in a way that can transcend our own narratives and unite people together."
Reclaiming the Armenian narrative. Not replicating it perfectly, but carrying it forward in whatever form it takes.
Art as resistance, joy as revolution
Zara Jian's documentary, “I Shall Revenge This World With Love - S. Paradjanov,” taught me something I've been trying to articulate for years.
The hybrid documentary braids Jian's journey after the 2020 Artsakh War with the story of SovietArmenian filmmaker Sergei Parajanov, who refused to let authorities silence him, choosing creation over destruction. The film's title comes from his philosophy: avenging the world with love.
During the Q&A, Jian described how the film came together in nine months—impossibly fast for a documentary of this scope. "Everything happened as it should," she said. "It was running faster than I was able to keep up with it." Even major filmmakers who had stopped giving interviews, such as Serbian filmmaker Emir Kusturica, rearranged their lives to participate. When the work is about cultural survival—about making art when the world wants you to make war— people say yes to things they typically wouldn't.
And sometimes resistance looks like celebration
The festival’s gala screening of Angela Asatarian's “A Winter's Song” offered a different kind of reclamation. This romantic comedy follows aspiring singer Liana (played by Armenian-American singer-songwriter Krista Marina), who discovers a world of music, culture, and love while travelling in Armenia.
The production values were exceptional, showing our homeland on what seemed like the most perfect
weather days. At the packed gala, three generations sat in the same room, all responding to a story that showed Armenians on screen simply enjoying life—reminding us that our stories include more than genocide narratives and diaspora grief.
Following the screening, Krista Marina performed live, joined by Toronto-Armenian musicians Sevag Avakian and Emil Khachaturian. They delighted the crowd with new songs from the film that somehow still felt as familiar as the classic songs Marina wove into her set.
This year's festival featured a record 11 feature-length comedies. Maybe refusing to tell only stories of trauma is its own act of resistance. Maybe we've earned the right to see ourselves happy.
Stories from everywhere, for everyone here
What struck me most wasn't just the range of films, but who showed up to see them. The festival's slate reflected the richness, complexity, and creativity of Armenian cinema, bringing together filmmakers from Armenia, Canada, the United States, Europe, the Middle East, and Australia.
The awards were presented by this year's Jury, chaired by Silva Basmajian, former Executive Producer at the National Film Board of Canada, alongside Raffi Asdourian, Lucy Babayan, and Armen Poladian.
Here is a partial list of the 2025 Pomegranate Film Festival Award Winners:
Dr. Michael J. Hagopian Award for Best FeatureLength Documentary: My Sweet Land, directed by Sareen Hairabedian. In 2024, the film was pulled as Jordan's Oscar entry after pressure from Azerbaijan — underscoring why festivals like this matter as safe spaces where Armenian stories can be told without censorship.
Best Feature Film: The Marching Band, produced by Robert Guédiguian
Best Comedy Award: Master of Destiny, directed by Grig Vahramyan
Best Short Film: 9.1.6, directed by Hrachya Zakaryan.
Best Short Documentary: What Will Become of Us, directed by Stephanie Ayanian
Best Children's Film: Palma 2, directed by Ruben Dishdishyan.
Rising Star - Pomegranate Aril Award: Presented to Tigran Tovmasyan (The Circus Lion) and Toronto's own Artur Andonian (Long Time No See).
Note: The complete list of Audience Choice Awards and Honourable Mentions can be found on page 19 and on POM’s official website: pomegranatefilmfestival.com.
What it takes to continue
That infrastructure—the airport pickups, the meals, the screening venues, the volunteers managing every detail—doesn't just appear. It's built and rebuilt every year by people who believe our stories deserve to be seen.
Angela Asatarian, recipient of this year's Golden POM Award for her work in Armenian cinema and winner of the Audience Choice Award for Best Documentary for “The Armenian Spirit”, spoke about the volunteers and sponsors during her acceptance speech: "From picking us up from the airport, to taking care of us... all of these amazing gifts—you guys have truly made us feel special." She paused, looking out at the crowd: "If we make a film and there's nowhere to see it, nowhere to show it, what are we going to do with it? Just put it in the closet? So you know, thank you, guys, for giving us this opportunity to show the films on the big screen."
You were always home
When I told Eric Nazarian the weekend felt like a homecoming, he looked at me and said simply, "You were always home."
He was right.
I'd spent years believing I didn't belong because I'd made nontraditional choices. But standing in that theatre, watching my son pitch in, talking with filmmakers who'd travelled from around the world to be
part of this—I understood something fundamental. The door was never closed. I just stopped knocking. The 19th edition is already scheduled for November 9-15, 2026. I'll be back—this time with both my kids, Nate and his sister—because they were always home too. They just needed someone to show them where the door was. ֎ ***
Nadine Araksi is a Toronto-based writer and coach who explores her diasporan identity on various platforms. Her work has appeared in Chatelaine, Maclean's, CBC. ca, Azad Archives, and the anthology Back Where I Came From: On Culture, Identity, and Home (Book*hug Press, 2024). Connect with her at nadinearaksi.com.
Scan to watch Nor Hai Horizon's coverage of POM 2025.
Hamazkayin's 18th annual Pomegranate Film Festival concludes with unforgettable premieres, powerful stories, and award-winning
The 18th edition of Hamazkayin ‘Klatsor’ Chapter’s Pomegranate Film Festival (POM) concluded on Sunday, Nov. 16, capping off a week filled with inspiring storytelling, global collaboration, and an impressive slate of Canadian and North American premieres. From Nov. 10 to 16, audiences experienced a vibrant mix of films that reflected the richness, complexity, and creativity of Armenian cinema.
This year’s Festival brought together filmmakers from Armenia, Canada, the United States, Europe, the Middle East, and Australia, each adding their unique voice to the mosaic of stories presented at POM. Virtual screenings early in the week smoothly transitioned into in-person events at Toronto’s Hamazkayin Theatre, creating an atmosphere of connection, discovery, and community appreciation for the arts.
The week opened on Nov. 10t with virtual programming, including the Canadian Premiere of “A Suitcase Home” accompanied by Torontonian director Kamee Abrahamian’s “Symptom”, which later received Honourable Mention for Best Short Documentary.
The momentum continued on Tuesday, November 11th with the North American Premiere of Hakob Melkonyan’s newest feature, paired with Tamara Ayrapetyan’s “Lola”, awarded Honourable Mention in the Best Short Film category.
On Wednesday, audiences embraced “Palma 2″ by Ruben Dishdishyan – his eighth film at POM – which went on to win Best Children’s Film for 2025. Returning to the Hamazkayin Theatre on Thursday, festivalgoers enjoyed a night of comedy, including the Canadian Premiere of “Master of Destiny” by Grig Vahramyan, which captured the Best Comedy Award.
Friday showcased some of the Festival’s most acclaimed work, including “The Maching Band”, winner of Best Feature Film, and 9.1.6, which secured the Best Short Film Award. The emotional documentary “My Sweet Land” received the Dr. Michael J. Hagopian Award for Best Feature-Length Documentary, paired with Guatemala-based filmmaker Sarine Arslanyan’s short film “Doon”. Toronto local, Artur Andonian, the first of two winners of this year Rising Star – Pomegranate Aril Award, had his film “Long Time No See”, screen alongside “Stealing Angel”.
Saturday offered surprises and high emotion as Academy Award nominee Atom Egoyan provided a special video introduction welcoming filmmaker Eric Nazarian back to Toronto for his Canadian Premiere of “Die Like a Man”. The film received both the Audience Choice Award for Feature Film and an Honourable Mention from the Festival Jury.
Later that evening, audiences experienced one of the Festival’s most unforgettable moments during the Canadian Premiere of “A Winter’s Song” by Angela Asatrian, this year’s recipient of the Golden POM Award, followed by a captivating live performance by the film’s star Krista Marina.
The final day spotlighted a powerful selection of short films, including the Canadian Premiere of “The Circus Lion” by Tigran Tovmasyan, who earned the Festival’s second Rising Star – Pomegranate Aril Award. The day also featured the screening of “The Armenian Spirit”, which received the Audience Choice Award for Best Documentary, and “What Will Become of Us”, which won Best Short Documentary.
“As we reflect on the incredible talent showcased this year, preparations have already begun for the 19th edition of the Pomegranate Film Festival, scheduled for Nov. 9-15, 2026. Audiences can anticipate more international premieres, deeper engagement with emerging filmmakers, expanded student programming, and special tributes celebrating Armenia’s cinematic legacy. We encourage filmmakers from around the world to begin preparing their submissions and invite our loyal community to save the dates as we continue building one of the most beloved Armenian film festivals in the diaspora,” the festival committee said in a statement, which also thanked all the filmmakers, sponsors, volunteers, and community for supporting Armenian arts and culture. ֎
films
2025 FESTIVAL AWARD WINNERS
JURY AWARDS
Best Feature Film
THE MARCHING BAND – Producer: Robert Guédiguian
Dr. Michael J. Hagopian Award – Best Feature-Length Documentary
MY SWEET LAND – Director: Sareen Hairabedian
Best Short Film
9.1.6 – Director: Hrachya Zakaryan
Best Short Documentary
WHATEVER DREAMS THEY HAD – Director: Stephanie Ayanian
Best Children’s Film
PALMA 2 – Director: Ruben Dishdishyan
Best Comedy
MASTER OF DESTINY – Director: Grig Vahramyan
Honourable Mentions
SYMPTOM – Best Short Documentary
LOLA – Best Short Film
ONCE UPON A TIME AT SCHOOL – PART 2 – Best Children’s Film
MALL-NAPPED – Best Comedy
I SHALL REVENGE THIS WORLD WITH LOVE – Feature Documentary
DIE LIKE A MAN – Best Feature Film
AUDIENCE CHOICE AWARDS
Feature Film
DIE LIKE A MAN – Director: Eric Nazarian
Documentary
THE ARMENIAN SPIRIT – Director: Angela Asatrian
RISING STAR – POMEGRANATE ARIL AWARD
Artur Andonian – LONG TIME NO SEE Tigran Tovmasyan – THE CIRCUS LION
Letters to the editor
Helpful film review
I attended the Toronto screening of “I Will Revenge This World with Love – S. Paradjanov” at this year's Pomegranate Film Festival, and I wanted to thank you for publishing the translated review in advance. Reading it beforehand offered a thoughtful introduction to the film and gave me a deeper appreciation for what unfolded on screen.
The review’s reflections on Zara Jian’s approach, especially her decision to anchor the narrative in the Parajanov Museum, helped me notice details I might have otherwise missed. The cinematography was every bit as striking as described, and seeing Norayr Kasper’s work projected in a theatre setting underscored just how visually intentional each frame was.
Your emphasis on Atom Egoyan’s contributions also prepared me well. His presence in the documentary added a layer of familiarity and continuity for a Canadian-Armenian audience, and hearing him speak about Parajanov’s influence made the film feel even more connected to our own community. It grounded the documentary's broader themes in something personal and close to home.
The review captured the film’s emotional core too: its insistence that art can push through even the hardest circumstances. Experiencing that message in the theatre—surrounded by members of the Armenian community in Toronto—was something I won’t soon forget.
Thank you again for sharing the translation online. It made the screening richer and more informed. ֎
Sincerely,
Harout Montreal
Driven by purpose and heart
Dear Editor,
I read “Torontonians Anna and Tivene are connecting diaspora and home- land through language” (#219, Oct. 2025), and I wanted to share how inspiring it was. The story beautifully captured the journey of two young Torontonians who transformed their upbringing, values, and sense of community into a project that is already making a real difference for students in Armenia. Their commitment to strengthening ties between diaspora and homeland through education felt both timely and deeply meaningful.
Thank you to the editors for choosing to highlight this initiative and for giving space to a story that reflects the best of our community’s potential. The piece was thoughtful, engaging, and a reminder of how impactful grassroots efforts can be when driven by purpose and heart.
My sincere congratulations to Anna and Tivene. Their dedication and vision are truly admirable, and it is inspiring to see young Armenians stepping forward to build bridges, create opportunities, and give back in such a tangible way. I look forward to seeing their work continue to grow and uplift even more students across Armenia. ֎
Who tells the story and why? Inheritance
and responsibility in “Ararat” and “Eleanor the Great” By Rupen Janbazian
I was 14 when I first watched “Ararat” (2002) at the now-shuttered Cumberland Theater in Toronto’s Yorkville neighborhood. It was opening night, and the auditorium was packed with familiar faces from the Armenian community, alongside filmgoers drawn to one of the most anticipated Canadian releases of the year. I was there with a childhood friend, sitting in the dark, not entirely sure what we were about to see. Then the film’s title appeared on the screen, first in Armenian («Արարատ») and only then in English. That moment stayed with me.
Our people’s painful history — which I had until then mostly encountered in classrooms, community center halls, church sanctuaries and in the quiet pauses when my grandmother avoided specific questions — was suddenly public. It was no longer a family memory or a whispered inheritance; it was projected, spoken aloud, in a downtown Toronto cinema.
But “Ararat” did not tell the genocide in a straightforward, authoritative way. Rather, it showed the difficulty of telling it. The film is full of interruptions: a film being made inside another film, arguments about representation, compromises that blur the line between historical detail and emotional truth. In “Ararat,” director Atom Egoyan refuses the comfort of a single narrative, instead showing how the story reaches us — fragmented, disputed and shaped by the distance between those who lived history and those who inherit it.
Just recently, I watched Scarlett Johansson’s directorial debut, “Eleanor the Great,” at home with my wife. More than two decades after “Ararat”’s opening night screening, Eleanor arrived on our TV with the quiet ease of on-demand streaming: no theater, no shared audience, only the light of our living room. The experience was smaller in scale, of course, but the question at its core felt unchanged: How do we tell a story we did not live, and what do we risk when we do so?
The film’s title character, Eleanor (June Squibb), is 94 and has just lost her closest friend, Bessie, a Holocaust survivor. By chance, she begins attending a support group for survivors, and there, slowly, she starts telling Bessie’s story as if it were her own. The film does not defend Eleanor’s choice. It also does not condemn her outright. Between the lines, it asks a more complex question: What happens to a history when the last witness is gone?
If a story lives only because someone continues to tell it, is the act of telling always cleanly separate from the person telling it?
This is where “Ararat” and “Eleanor the Great” meet and intersect. Both films take place not at the moment of catastrophe but in the long shadow after. They follow characters trying to carry a story they did not experience directly — acknowledging that this act is complicated, delicate and charged with responsibility. In “Ararat,” the challenge begins with denial. The genocide has been denied for nearly a century by the perpetrator and its successor governments, and, at the time, even by Canada, where the film was made and the filmwithin-the-film was being shot (Canada’s official recognition of the Armenian Genocide would come a few years later). Against that backdrop, every artistic choice carries weight. Even the question of whether Mount Ararat should appear in the frame becomes charged, not because geography is the point, but because Armenians have spent so long proving their own history. The film’s fractured form reflects that pressure: Memory that has survived denial is rarely linear.
In “Eleanor the Great,” the challenge is more internal. The film unfolds in the United States, a country that officially recognizes the Holocaust. Yet it appears at a moment when Holocaust memory is increasingly vulnerable, not only to explicit denial (which persists at the margins) but also to the quieter erosion that comes with time, the fading of firsthand testimony and the recent rise of revisionist or doubt-casting rhetoric in public discourse. The danger here is not statesponsored erasure but the gradual uncertainty that follows when those who lived the history are no longer present to speak it.
Eleanor crosses a line because she is trying to keep her friend’s story alive in the only way she can
imagine. Her grief pulls her into a narrative that is not hers to inhabit, and the film neither excuses nor sensationalizes the act. It acknowledges the harm and the longing, the fear that once a story stops being told, it may disappear altogether. Her impulse is not rooted in a sense of communal obligation or cultural duty. Eleanor does not suggest she sees herself as preserving Holocaust memory for others. Instead, she is trying to preserve Bessie for herself, an act born out of grief.
The two films frame the same question from different directions: What do we owe to stories that formed us, but did not originate with us? There is a temptation to simplify this question into a rule, like ‘Tell only what you lived.’ But inherited history does not work that neatly. The descendants of genocide survivors grow up inside stories that shaped their families long before they were born. Silence, too, is an inheritance. Distance does not mean indifference. Lack of direct experience does not mean lack of impact.
At 14, part of me wanted “Ararat” to be clearer, more direct. I wanted it to present the genocide with decisive authority, something I could point to, something that would settle arguments. Instead, the film insisted on uncertainty — the gaps that always remain. Now, I see that as the point. The genocide not only destroyed lives, but it also disrupted continuity and, as such, left us with fragments.
“Eleanor the Great” understands this intuitively. Eleanor takes on Bessie’s story because she cannot accept her friend’s disappearance. That does not make her actions correct, but it does make them recognizable. She tries to hold a memory close enough that it survives the person who lived it. She does what many of us do when history reaches us in pieces; she fills the gaps with herself.
The question in both films is not whether
Armenians in Canada: A glance at the past, a vision of the future
By Isabel Kaprielian-Churchill
My goal in this work is to share some thoughts and concerns and to raise awareness and perhaps start a conversation.1, 2
Background
As background to my piece, let me give a brief overview of how Armenian Canadians in Toronto and Montreal have entrenched their identity. To begin with, they have built churches and these of different denominations: Evangelical, Pentecostal, Catholic, and Apostolic under the jurisdiction of both the diocese and prelacy. Political, cultural, charitable, social, and sports organizations bolster community participation. Social aid services provide assistance for individuals and families. Scouts for the young and seniors’ groups for the elderly expand the scope of participation. As an example, the Toronto Armenian Relief Society (ARS) chapter has recently organized a group, named the Golden Circle, to provide women over the age of 65 with intellectual stimulation, physical exercise, and culinary delights. Armenians have their cafes and restaurants, pharmacies, and various business enterprises, as well as weekly and monthly newspapers and television shows. They have members in every profession and elected representatives in parliaments. Most importantly, they have constructed full-time elementary and secondary schools. Indeed, the Toronto and Montreal Armenian Canadian communities have created what the distinguished Canadian sociologist, Raymond Breton has called, institutional completeness.
Looking back over the last 100 years of Armenian settlement in Canada, we see a notable and, one might add, a disturbing pattern which I describe in the paragraphs below.
Although a handful of rug merchants had started businesses in Toronto before World War I (1914-18), the first real Armenian settlement in the city did not get underway until the 1920s, with the entry of about 100 refugee men and women, all survivors of the Genocide. During the same period, Hamilton had about 240 Armenians and St. Catharines could boast an Armenian population of about 310, composed of recent refugees and pre-1914 immigrants. Meanwhile, Montreal had just a few Armenians, among them, Yervant Pastermadjian and Kerop Bedoukian, both involved in the rug trade and both later leaders in the Canadian Armenian Congress (CAC).
A relatively small number of immigrants entered Canada during the Depression years of the 1930s and the war years in the early 1940s. By the early 1950s, the Toronto Armenian community had begun to wither somewhat, through old age, natural attrition, and intermarriage. Nevertheless, the first Armenian church in Toronto, Holy Trinity, was erected in the early 1950s, due largely to the participation and support of the 1920s’ refugee settlers, in cooperation with the rug merchants.
During the early part of the 20th century, the number of Armenians in Canada grew very slowly primarily because their entry had been more or less blocked by Canadian officials who had classified them as Asians, therefore undesirable, therefore unwelcome.
Armenians in the United States also suffered immigration discrimination. The U.S. government claimed they were not white, therefore ineligible for naturalization. If successful, this claim would have revoked the citizenship of hundreds of Armenians already naturalized in the U.S. In the United States vs Cartozian case, the Armenians won a landmark victory (1925) confirming them as white and therefore eligible for U.S. citizenship.
No such court case was pursued in Canada, where government authorities stubbornly and unwaveringly rejected the many Armenian initiatives to have the Asian designation removed.
During the 1960s, immigration restrictions began to be lifted on a broad scale. The attitude of government officials and politicians towards Armenian entry improved somewhat, aided by the lobbying efforts of the Canadian
Armenian Congress. Easing restrictions on Armenian entry led to the blossoming of the Armenian communities in Montreal and Toronto which became the principal targets of Armenian settlement. Concurrently, as conditions in Middle Eastern countries deteriorated and grew increasingly more dangerous, Armenians sought the safety of Canada. These push and pull factors played out over the next many decades, indeed, up to the present day. With each movement, the newcomers brought their exuberance and vigour and rejuvenated the existing community. The latest flow has been from Syria. Syrian Armenians are pure dynamism and have reinvigorated Armenian community life. Such newcomers have been vital–a godsend really – to retaining Armenian ethnocultural identity, maintaining Armenian communal survival, and continuing to inspire a truly Armenian spirit in Canada. Yet there is cause for anxiety and disquiet. Depending on immigration movements to sustain Armenian existence as a viable minority raises disturbing issues. What, we must ask, became the role of the previous immigrant generation, notably their children born in Canada and their grandchildren? Are these generations still part of the ethnocultural community? Are they involved and do they participate in the world of their parents and grandparents? In other words, how does one define the status of the Armenian Canadian community as we move further away from the immigrant cohort?
Within this framework, let us explore two areas: Community structure and family formation
Community structure
To examine community development over a long period of time, I undertook a demographic study of the Armenian community in the city of Hamilton, 35 miles west of Toronto. 3
In the 1940s, about 60 Armenian families lived in Hamilton. They had 126 children, of whom 13 never married. Forty-nine of the 126 children married Armenians. Of those 49, 19 moved away from Hamilton, usually to join their out-of-town partners, leaving 30 endogamous couples in the city, with spouses from both inside and outside Hamilton.
Of the 126 children, 64 married non-Armenians, and of those, 18 left the city and 46 remained in Hamilton. Thus, we are dealing with 30 endogamous marriages and 46 exogamous marriages of individuals, many of whom were first-generation children of Genocide survivors.
In a way, the Hamilton community was confronted with a fork in the road. One path was to remain pure but small with those 30 endogamous couples,
thus foreshadowing potential extinction. The other option was to incorporate the 46 mixed marriage couples into the community to enlarge it, but also to risk diluting it. No official decision emerged one way or another. It simply evolved that the mixed marriage couples were more or less marginalized. Either they distanced themselves from the community voluntarily, or they felt they were sidelined by community members.
A friend of mine in Hamilton serves as an example. She had been an active member of the Armenian Youth Federation (AYF); and her mother was a devoted member of the ARS. My friend married a non-Armenian and they had two sons. After some time, we seldom saw them at Armenian functions, not even at picnics. If we had asked her why, she would have replied, “It’s too hard on my husband. He doesn’t know Armenian, and no one ever talks to him.”
Frankly, I doubt if anyone ever approached him with a welcoming invitation: “Hey, Gary, it’s great to see you here among us. How are things? A group of us is going golfing next week. Would you care to join us?” An odar4 he was and an outsider he remained. Unfortunately, his wife and two sons also stayed away.
In western society, the further we move from the immigrant generation, the more likely we are to encounter exogamy, especially in a small group like the Armenians. It seems to me that Armenians must accept the fact that exogamy is inevitable. If this is the case, then Armenians, as a community–as a small community - must deal with it consciously and conscientiously. Please note, I am not advocating one kind of marriage or another. I am simply stating facts. How can or should Armenians cope with increasing exogamy? It is not an insurmountable problem. They need to extend a hand to mixed marriage couples and their children and welcome them into their midst. They need to incorporate them into their community, help them feel they belong, and let them know they are a member of the community. Incorporation and connectedness play a formidable foundational role in Armenian ethnocultural survival. Indeed, incorporation stands side by side with immigration, because it is fundamentally unrealistic for Armenians to rely on immigration alone for their survival in the diaspora, nor should they depend on immigration indefinitely.
One may criticize this approach as being self-serving. I suppose to a degree it is. By way of argument, however, let us look at another perspective that deserves some thought. In our North American society, it is crucial to belong to something. Family, of course, but also to a group. We must never underestimate communal power and the role of community in our lives. We must have friends to share our joy, comfort us in our sorrow, and help us in our time of need. In a world dominated by social media, our institutions and organizations offer human contact, linguistic opportunities, and generous support.
The friend I mentioned above grew old, like the rest of us. Her husband died. Her sons placed her in a nursing home. Who visited this lonely woman? Who took her a bowl of pilaf? Who held her hand and reminisced about “the good old days”? Who eased her pain with the Hayr Mer? Who even knew where she had been placed? Then, one sad day, we read her obituary. These words in her death notice are etched in my memory: “She was proud of her Armenian heritage.” Let us never undervalue the depth of communal belonging and the bonds of human love and respect.
Family formation
We now move on to family formation as part of our survival mechanism. Statistics Canada states that Canada’s population replacement or fertility rate is 2.1 children per woman of child-bearing age, roughly from 15 to 44 years old. The actual birth rate in Canada for 2023 was 1.26, considered among the lowest in the world–similar to Italy, Spain, South Korea and Japan.
Unfortunately, there is no way of easily calculating the fertility rate of Armenian Canadians from census data. Based on my observations and interviews with various community members, I estimate the birth rate among Armenians in Toronto today is approximately 1.5-1.6, slightly higher than the national average in Canada but much lower than the replacement rate of 2.1.
This finding is deeply worrisome.
Such a low birth rate spells trouble for Armenian ethnocultural survival, for I doubt the Toronto community is alone in experiencing such a problem. If this trend continues, the ethnocultural community will be up against a potential population catastrophe. Indeed, this finding foreshadows doom for the Armenian diasporan future, unless community leaders, mindful of the fragile situation, spread awareness of the replacement shortfall and take steps to help reverse it.
Reverse it, they must. But how?
Simply by encouraging the creation of larger families.
Churches and schools are important. But in the end, they are only bricks and mortar. Armenians need to hear the prayers of their people rising up in their churches and the voices of their children ringing in their schools. Armenians need more Armenians.
I am not recommending that every Armenian family have eight children. Nor am I suggesting we interfere in the personal and private decisions of couples about their priorities and family planning. Nor do I wish to make couples feel guilty or unpatriotic for choosing to have small families. Obviously, the final decision is theirs. The job of the community, notably the leaders in our organizations and institutions, is to inform the people, to raise awareness of this urgent dilemma, and to motivate a change in outlook and attitude.
Such an initiative must be a basic component of Armenian community life. It does, indeed, take a village to raise a child, especially in these difficult economic times. Luckily, the “Armenian village” of Toronto possesses the intellectual capacity and financial resources to back up young families.
Consider, for example, the school. “Villagers” provide scholarships for the students; and the school gives special consideration to families who have enrolled more than two children.
In short, the community as a whole, but in particular the community leadership must not only promote the concept of larger families, but they must also undertake to help those families, especially those with working mothers including young professional women.
Conclusion
Armenians are a small ethnocultural group in the diaspora, numbering about 80,000 in Canada. If they vanish from this diaspora, and they are without question vulnerable, it will be largely by their own doing. To a certain extent, Armenians are masters of their own fate.
Certainly, the Armenian Canadian leadership is aware of the precarious condition of the community. Accordingly, the formation of organizations and institutions is vital to the health and sustainability of community life. → 24
Armenians in Canada
But organizations and institutions need people. Here is where the landscape of survival requires a palette of three vibrant colours: Immigration. To a degree, Armenians in Canada are dependent for survival on the movement of Armenians from other diasporas. In Hamilton the 30 endogamous families mentioned above would long since have vanished had it not been for the entry of Armenians during the 1960s. Today, while Hamilton is struggling with a church and a community centre, it is, nevertheless, surviving. It goes without saying that the influx of Armenians to Canada weakens other diasporas. However, if such diasporas are endangered because of political and military strife, then emigration is the only sensible alternative.
Intermarriage Incorporation. The incorporation of mixed marriage families into the community with the full force of welcome is absolutely essential to Armenian survival. If Armenians open their world to odars they will surely build up their community strength and ensure longevity.
Larger families. Such an initiative should be embedded in the Armenian Canadian communal psyche. The added imperative that the children grow up as Armenian Canadians should be guaranteed by the community leadership and full community participation.
In these many ways, Armenians can reinforce their community and give hope for future survival. If they want their great-grandchildren to identify themselves as Armenian Canadians, then Armenians, as individuals and Armenians as a group, must make concerted, deliberate, and determined efforts to take on a measure of control over their own destiny, for their own survival.5 ֎
Notes:
1. This article is a revised version of my presentation to the Armenian Bar Association Annual Conference held in Toronto on June 14, 2025.
2. Professor Kaprielian-Churchill was recently honoured by the National Executive of the Armenian Relief Society (ARS) of Canada with the first Artsakh Award for her contributions to Armenian Canadian scholarship.
3. For this study, I rely on a mailing list of Armenians in Hamilton during this period and on my memory of a time and place where I was born and grew up. Given the length of time that has elapsed and the fallacy of memory, I recognize that my numbers may not be 100 per cent accurate. However, I stand by the correctness of my general findings.
4. Non-Armenian
5. The image used was created using Artificial Intelligence (AI)
Who tells the story and why?
inherited memory can remain untouched (Spoiler alert: it never does).
The question is how to assume responsibility for a story that predates us, without collapsing the difference between living an event and transmitting it. Both “Ararat” and “Eleanor the Great” recognize that remembrance is not a passive act; it requires interpretation, and interpretation is always shaped by the one doing the telling.
The past does not arrive fully intact; it must be reconstructed, negotiated and sometimes reassembled from fragments that have survived more by persistence than by preservation.
Once the last witness is gone, the story does not disappear, but its status changes. It becomes something we maintain through conscious effort rather than immediate memory. The line between safeguarding and reinventing is not easily drawn, and neither film offers a solution. Instead, each focuses on the tension rather than resolving it. “Ararat” carries the weight of a history that is still contested; accuracy becomes part of the struggle. “Eleanor the Great” lives with a gentler but no less significant threat: the quiet fading of memory, even when the facts are known — a fading felt most immediately as the loss of the person who held the story.
To inherit a history is to accept that we hold it imperfectly. We did not witness it, yet we carry its weight. There is no complete or final telling, only the continual effort not to let the story fall away. That effort is the responsibility, and that is what remains. ֎
This piece was originally published in the Armenian Weekly on Nov. 10, 2025.
11. (գոյ.) հանդիսութիւններու շարք (ֆիլմի, երգի, եւլն.)
12. (ածական) քաղցած, սովահար
15. (գոյ.) ձիւնախառն փոթորիկ
17. (գոյ.) յորդոր, խրատ, ճառ (հոգեւոր)
18. (գոյ.) մոմեր վառելու գործողութիւնը
19. (գոյ.) հեգնանք, հեգնութիւն, ծաղրանք
20. (գոյ.) նռնենիի պտուղ
1. (գոյ.) մարզաձեւ
3. (գոյ.) հանդիսաւոր
4. (գոյ.)
5. (գոյ.) սուրճի
6. (անուն) այս
7. (ածական) որ
10. (գոյ.) ժողով
13. (գոյ.) շարժապատկերի
14. (գոյ.)
16. (գոյ.)
առանձնատառը (հայերէն sudoku)
Crossword
Junior problem
A six-pack of chocolate bars costs $2.66, a nine-pack costs $3.49, and a 20-pack costs $6.95. If you need at least 36 chocolate bars for a small Christmas party, what is the minimum total cost?
20th anniversary! (answers on pg. 26) Ուղղահայեաց
Junior problem
Traditionally, Armenians celebrate the New Year at home, and right after midnight, the eldest family member welcomes friends and relatives. The custom of visiting loved ones on New Year’s Eve has a purpose: it symbolises leaving negative thoughts behind and forgiving past offences.
Armen’s Math Corner
On this particular New Year’s Eve, a wall clock gains exactly 12 minutes every hour. At 4 p.m. on December 31, the clock is set to the correct time. Later that evening, the clock shows 12 midnight, and everyone at the celebration believes the new year has arrived. What is the actual correct time?
