A year ago, a reader of The Fresno Bee penned a letter to the editor simplistically asking Armenian Americans “relax” about the Armenian Genocide and enjoy being Americans.
A friend had forwarded it to me with incredulity. Few things boiled my blood more than that letter. I sat down and in the course of 20 minutes, I penned a scorching hot retort and sent it off.
It became one of the most-read letters to the editor in The Bee last year.
In it, I wrote that “I am and will always be proud to be an American, in good days and bad. But I wouldn’t be here writing this today if it weren’t for my great-grandmother, an Armenian Genocide survivor.”
Naturally, the entire letter holds true nearly a year later. But that line, in and of itself, is most poignant. I truly wouldn’t be living in the most incredible place in the United States of America without tragedy.
The Promise is a victory in a longstanding battle of denial.
This week, I’m looking forward to stepping into the cinema ready to delve into a story that has been retold to me many times before, but now reaches the consciousness of neighbors, friends, and even total strangers, for the for the first time ever.
I am thrilled to keep the promise.
Photo: Jose Haro/Open Road Films