More California Armenians Are Moving Back to Their Parents' Native Land

Hovik Manucharyan got on a plane and flew to a country at war.

It was fall 2020 and he felt drawn back to his home country of Armenia to help.

He’s not alone. Many Armenians who’ve grown up outside the country — often in California — are moving back to their homeland in a kind of reverse migration. They’re seeking a closer connection to their culture, and community, and are using skills they gained in the U.S. to make a difference in a country that many know more from stories than from experience.

This reverse migration is making an impact. Californian transplants have started businesses and nonprofits. Some work in Armenia’s government. Others have helped expand Armenia’s tech sector or work to develop infrastructure in this small country that is still recovering from a 44-day war with Azerbaijan over the disputed territory of Nagorno-Karabakh, which is populated by ethnic Armenians.

Armenian immigrants in the United States, like Manucharyan, rallied to send aid to Armenia during the war when entire towns fell to Azerbaijan and thousands of Armenians were displaced. The conflict with Azerbaijan was one of many reasons that Manucharyan and his wife, Suzanna, decided to move their family to Armenia.

“It just sort of feels less stressful being here [in Armenia] than far away and hearing about your homeland and not being able to contribute,” Manucharyan said.

Both Manucharyan and Suzanna moved to Los Angeles from Armenia when they were younger and spent most of their adult years in California. But they still feel strongly connected to their homeland.

For many Armenians, the 2020 war provided the impetus to leave California behind. The Manucharyans are part of a growing trend of Californians moving to Armenia full-time.

“I just felt like I wasn’t doing enough in L.A. knowing that people my age, or younger, were being displaced or killed by the war here,” said Mikael Matossian, 28, who relocated to Yerevan last year.

Little Armenia

There are actually more Armenians living outside the country than there are inside Armenia. Starting in 1915, hundreds of thousands of people fled the Armenian genocide, committed by the Ottoman Empire — which was succeeded by modern-day Turkey — and wound up all over the world. Another large wave of immigration from Armenia started in the ’90s after the Soviet Union collapsed and Armenia became an independent country.

Los Angeles County has the largest population of Armenians in the world outside Armenia, with the city of Glendale — sometimes called Little Armenia — considered the epicenter of Armenian language and culture in California. Armenian is widely spoken in Los Angeles, with Armenian restaurants and schools scattered around the city. For many, the Armenian diaspora in California provides a grounding community. But for some, it can sometimes feel suffocating.

“I wanted to get out [of the community] because I really needed space to be myself,” said Kyle Khandikian, who grew up in L.A. and went to an Armenian school in Encino.

Khandikian, who identifies as gay, said that when he was growing up, LGBTQ issues were a taboo subject in L.A.’s Armenian community.

“As a kid, I didn’t feel like I could be out and I wasn’t out,” Khandikian said.

When he started college at UCLA, Khandikian tried stepping away from the Armenian community. But being Armenian continued to be an important part of his identity.

“I think that if you asked one of my friends from UCLA, ‘Who is Kyle?’ One of the first things they will say is, ‘Kyle is Armenian,’” Khandikian said.

Once Khandikian got some distance from the Armenian community during college and became comfortable with his sexuality, he felt like his different identities — Armenian and queer — could coexist. That made him want to wholeheartedly embrace his Armenian side in a way he felt like he couldn’t before.

So he moved to Yerevan to immerse himself in Armenian culture.

“Maybe one of the reasons why I wanted to come here is to let go of some of the baggage that I was given just by way of being born into this place and this people,” Khandikian said.

A reverse brain drain

Many Californians got the bug to move here after volunteering in Armenia during college.

Nanor Balabanian, 33, visited the country one summer with students from UC Santa Barbara. They set up a computer lab in a remote Armenian village using equipment they bought after fundraising at home.

“We had a common purpose and passion for our people, and I think I realized the power of our unity,” Balabanian said.

Balabanian turned the work she started during that first summer into a full-fledged nonprofit called The Hidden Road Initiative that helps expand access to education and provides leadership opportunities in rural Armenian villages.

Balabanian’s work is an example of a reverse brain drain happening in Armenia. Instead of educated, skilled workers moving away from their home countries for opportunities in the U.S., Armenians from Los Angeles, and elsewhere in the state, are bringing their skills back to Armenia.

Mikael Matossian, a 28-year-old who grew up in the San Fernando Valley, used to work in the renewable energy industry in Los Angeles. Now, he helps Armenia make its energy system less dependent on Russian gas.

“I think there’s a really important role for diasporans to play here to support the ongoing development of the country,” Matossian said.

A sense of community

Even though Matossian had never lived in Armenia full-time before moving to Yerevan last year, he said the country immediately felt like home. Just hearing people talking in Armenian everywhere, the language he spoke with his parents and grandparents back in L.A., gave everything a sense of familiarity.

But moving to Armenia isn’t a seamless transition for many who grew up as part of the diaspora. Matossian — and many other Californians — use a dialect called Western Armenian commonly spoken by the descendants of those who fled parts of the country that were annexed to Turkey during the genocide a century ago.

Many Californians who move here have to master the local dialect, Eastern Armenian, spoken in the capital. Matossian said he felt self-conscious at times when he spoke after arriving in Yerevan.

“I wanted to fit in here, but I’ve since kind of abandoned that idea — I’m comfortable with my dialect,” Matossian said.

Older Californians like Hovik Manucharyan — who moved his family to Yerevan after volunteering during the 2020 war — say they want their children to grow up with a closer connection to Armenian language and culture.

The move was a big change for Manucharyan’s three kids, but they felt welcomed when they arrived at their new Armenian school.

Manurcharyan’s 17-year-old daughter, Vardine, said American students don’t really care when a new kid shows up in class. But in Armenia, students crowded around her on her first day at school introducing themselves and offering to show her around.

“Schools [in Armenia] are more like family,” she said.

Californians living in Yerevan described a closer connection to their ancestral homeland now that they live in Armenia. Their families survived a genocide that tried to extinguish Armenian culture.

But the survivors carried it with them when they fled as if their traditions and language were burning embers that they later rekindled, in places like Glendale, into big roaring bonfires.

Moving nearly halfway around the world makes Armenia more palpable, something you can touch without getting burnt, and carry with you when you go.