With my last two weeks here just around the corner, I am having a hard time with the idea of letting go. Sure, I look forward to all of the familiarities of home, but I cannot deny that I have not been missing them much because I have established my own familiarities here in Yerevan.

Despite my feelings, I cannot help but contemplate how locals here become offended when Diaspora come to this country and call it home. I understand their perspective because I know very well that I am not a native here; I stand out simply because of my natural demeanor, and that is just the way it is. I have come to accept it, but I do not give up trying to assimilate because I believe that demonstrates respect toward the country I am in and the culture of its people.

Although this is true, none of us can forget the history we share, no matter how different we are in the present.

When I visited the Armenian Genocide Museum-Institute, I was reminded of our common past, which is precisely the reason as to why the hushed bitterness between Armenia and the Diaspora must diminish.

The museum itself is definitely an experience to have as an Armenian, no matter where you are from. Granted, the museum is open to all visitors, but the experience itself has much more meaning for those of us who can trace back our family lines to the times of the genocide. Not only does the museum confirm and supply all factual information in an informative manner, but it also manifests the emotional facet within the souls of those who choose to visit it. Each room represents a phase of the genocide, complete with photographs, artifacts, and written descriptions. The rooms begin to the right of the entrance and continue through in a circular fashion to the left of the entrance, ending the journey right at the beginning.

The most emotional part of the museum is at the center just outside the entrance, where there is a large stone engraved with drawings that symbolize the struggle between darkness and light.

The visitor’s standpoint is imperative; standing on the inside looking out toward the stone, the scene is architecturally composed so that the visitor plays the role of a judge, viewing the circumstance in retrospect.

Standing there, I felt goose bumps as I reflected: how does this make me feel personally as an individual and as an Armenian? How does this contribute to my identity? What can I do about it? How will I become influenced by this undeniable past?

Of course, none of these questions can be answered all at once. Some will not be answered at all.

The objective is to evaluate the situation for and within yourself, and realize that all we Armenians carry the same burden. We share this tragic history that will never leave our hearts, even should we wish it. And this unity, as unfortunate as it is, anchors us and provides for us a steadfast security we know will never change because there is no chance of turning back time and changing what happened. What we can do, though, is embrace our heritage and take control about what we do about our past. It is up to you, to me, to each Armenian, to decide what we take away from the story of our people, and who we choose to become as a result of it. It does not matter where we are from, where we live, or what dialect we speak. Whether “home” for me is in Yerevan or Los Angeles, this past, this tragedy, will remain in my heart, the same way it will in yours.

Danielle Hartounian, 19, is a student at Orange Coast College, in Southern California, where she majors in English and minors in studio arts. She is a participant of the Armenian General Benevolent Union’s Yerevan Summer Internship Program, during which she is interning at ArmeniaNow.com.