Lara Vanian-Green’s daughter came home from her fourth grade class at Armenian school one day and said that she and her friends were afraid to draw rainbows. Several of the boys in her class would get angry when they did, tearing up the drawings and shouting that they were inappropriate.
“I was stunned,” Vanian-Green, who is queer and host of the Armenian Enough podcast, told the Weekly. “I’m pretty sure we all colored rainbows when we were kids. It’s a bright and beautiful thing. Now that’s being suppressed in students.”
Things escalated at the end of the year, when the students were assigned a project in which they won stickers for completing various tasks and pasted them on the classroom door. Vanian-Green’s daughter chose stickers of rainbow flags. “I think she wanted to support me,” Vanian-Green said with quiet pride.
When she tried to display the rainbow flags, however, the same boys got angry, shouting and covering up her stickers with their own. Caught in the middle of an argument, the teacher shut down the project.
When Vanian-Green approached the administration to complain about the incident, it responded that the school does not take stances on current issues, including LGBTQ issues. It would, however, take disciplinary measures in response to behavior, including bullying or vandalism.
Vanian-Green believes that isn’t sufficient to protect queer students. “Statistically, there are queer kids in that school who are being really harmed by this. To feel so invisible that they can’t talk about who they are, that what they feel is inappropriate for the school and for children. Right now, that’s the message — inappropriate to be discussed. It’s a real shame,” she said.
LGBTQ topics for decades have been silenced in Armenian schools by cultural shame and stigma, absent from curriculum and avoided in conversation. LGBTQ Armenians feel the pain of this silence, understanding the implicit message it conveys — all of your identities are not welcome here.
The debate over whether or not it is appropriate to teach students about LGBTQ issues has risen to the national stage over the last few years. Dozens of states have passed laws restricting instruction on sexual orientation and gender identity at public schools, including bans on books that include LGBTQ representation and sexual health education.
At many private identity-based schools, including Armenian day schools, these bans have long been de facto in effect. There are several dozen Armenian schools across the United States that teach classes on Armenian language, literature, history and religion, alongside the standard subjects. LGBTQ topics for decades have been silenced in Armenian schools by cultural shame and stigma, absent from curriculum and avoided in conversation. LGBTQ Armenians feel the pain of this silence, understanding the implicit message it conveys — all of your identities are not welcome here.
I spoke with queer alumni, teachers, parents and administrators from across the United States about how the tense national climate regarding LGBTQ inclusion in education has impacted Armenian schools. While silence is still the rule, anti-LGBTQ hostility has become more explicit to a degree, as the nation’s politics bleed into Armenian school campuses.
Armenian school enrollment on the rise
This issue first garnered unprecedented visibility within the Armenian community in June 2023, when protests against LGBTQ representation in education shook two Los Angeles neighborhoods with large Armenian populations.
At an elementary school in North Hollywood, a group of predominantly Armenian parents protested an assembly reading of a picture book that includes a reference to same-sex parents. Days later, three people were arrested when hundreds of demonstrators clashed in Glendale, the heart of the Armenian American diaspora, outside of a school board meeting convened to recognize June as Pride Month.
In a less visible way, such sentiments have also altered Armenian schools. Parents are drawn to Armenian schools for a variety of reasons, hoping their children will form friendships with Armenian peers, learn the language and customs, and grow up in a safe and nurturing environment, among other benefits. The diaspora’s investment in preserving an Armenian identity among its youth has taken on greater stakes in light of the 2020 war in Nagorno-Karabakh (Artsakh) and ongoing threats to Armenia’s borders.
Now, a new motivation for pursuing an Armenian education has emerged. Over the past few years, some Armenian parents have begun to remove their children from public schools and enroll them in private Armenian schools, in part to avoid exposing them to LGBTQ topics.
Protest at Saticoy Elementary School (Photo: X, June 2, 2023, screen grab)
Public schools across the country have been hit with a rapid decline in enrollment over the past few years, starting in 2020 with the COVID-19 pandemic. California has been the biggest loser, with 420,000 less public school students enrolled in 2022 than in 2019. In the Los Angeles school district, 125 public schools experienced an enrollment decrease of 20% or more. The decision to transfer students from public to private schools accounts for at least 14% of the public school population shrinkage nationwide.
Private Armenian schools have contributed to this trend. While enrollment rates at public schools have plummeted, Armenian schools have witnessed a surge in popularity. Analyzing data from nine Armenian day schools in Los Angeles gathered from the California Department of Education, eight schools reported a rise in enrollment between 2021-2024, with a majority experiencing a drastic increase.
Several elementary schools almost doubled their enrollment in that period. One enrolled 229 students in the 2020-2021 school year and 424 students in 2023-2024. One K-12 school increased its enrollment from 340 to 542 students in that time frame, and another from 621 to 812 students.
There are several explanations for this increase, including the renewed urgency to protect Armenian language and culture after the war in 2020. Many Armenian parents, however, have fled from public schools in response to widespread misinformation about education policies regarding gender identity, transgender youth and instruction on LGBTQ topics.
Tamar Bashian, an alumni of an Armenian school in Los Angeles with a large circle of Armenian friends, says that most of their friends have pulled their children out of public schools in favor of Armenian schools. The process started during the pandemic, and with the spread of misinformation about LGBTQ inclusion at public schools, it accelerated.
“Almost everybody I know, if they weren’t already in an Armenian school, they all panicked. They believed everything they read and heard immediately, and they freaked out, pulled out their kids and put them in any school that would take them,” Bashian said.
This hysteria is not accidental. The Armenian community of Los Angeles has been drawn into systematic campaigns launched by right-wing activists across the country to target public school education. In response, misinformation has spread like wildfire among Armenians, including claims that public school teachers conduct gender confirmation surgery on students and that drag queens perform in thongs at elementary schools.
The impacts of this campaign on the emotional well-being of LGBTQ students have been stark. Data from 2021 shows that a vast majority of LGBTQ students at California public schools regularly hear homophobic and transphobic remarks or slurs used by their classmates and teachers.
Bashian recalls feeling isolated, confused and afraid growing up closeted at an Armenian school. LGBTQ issues were shrouded in thick silence, while bullying against queer students went unpunished. Now, witnessing parents in an uproar over children’s books that celebrate diverse families, they wonder whether similar representation in literature or school curriculum would have made them feel less alone as a queer youth.
“It’s terrifying. I’m terrified for those kids. I can put myself in their shoes. I know how I felt at school, and I didn’t have these protests around me. I was terrified just being there,” Bashian reflected.
Bashian wants to be available as a resource for young LGBTQ Armenians. “If I could speak to any queer Armenian kids, I’d just tell them to hang on, hang in there. You will find your people,” they said. “I was not ever willing to lose my Armenianness because I was queer. I am a queer Armenian. They are not separate things; I’m one person. I hope that’s how they can see things.”
Lara Vanian-Green and her daughter
Vanian-Green has observed the culture at her daughter’s Armenian school shift since the summer of 2023. Vanian-Green has enrolled her daughter since preschool, drawn to the cultural exposure and the warm, familial environment. However, over the past few years — and especially since last summer — both she and her daughter have increasingly felt like outsiders at the school.
After the protests last June, Vanian-Green used her podcast as a platform to advocate for inclusion in the Armenian community. Ever since, she has felt a marked difference in how she is treated by her fellow parents. She and her daughter are no longer invited to children’s parties, and when they are, only a couple of the moms speak with her.
“They’re coming at it from this false sense of protecting their children, whereas I would like to protect all the children, including the queer children,” Vanian-Green said. “They want to protect who they think the kids are, and I want to protect whoever the kids are.”
For Nicole Yeghiazarian, an alumni of an Armenian school, witnessing the protests has altered how they reflect on their Armenian school experience. Yeghiazarian has seen fellow alumni and former teachers follow and comment on posts from right-wing Armenian social media accounts affiliated with the protests.
“I think I used to see Armenian schools as a place to help retain Armenian culture,” they said. “Now I kind of look at Armenian schools with a little more suspicion. I see it more as, this is an attempt for people to keep their children from experiencing the world or having a full understanding of who lives in the world, to control what your kids think is acceptable. I didn’t feel that way. I felt it was more about a cultural connection to the past. Now I see it as, how do we avoid engaging with a liberal democracy and everything that means?”
Teaching as a queer Armenian
Antipathy toward LGBTQ topics not only affects students, but also queer teachers. For LGBTQ Armenians, teaching at an Armenian school is an act of balancing their identities, of learning when to share and conceal their queer experience in order to protect their own well-being and standing at the school.
Just as parents have diverse motivations for choosing to enroll their children in Armenian schools, teachers often work at these schools for emotional or personal reasons. They feel a calling to give back to their community, or they believe in the mission of advancing Armenian culture through education. In cases when they face overt hostility, however, they can end up feeling more alienated from their Armenian identity and community.
I spoke with two people who identify as queer and have taught at Armenian schools within the past two years who expressed feeling unsafe on campus. In both cases, they were ostracized and ignored by parents and other teachers, many of whom went out of their way to express their dislike and discomfort with their presence.
One of them recalled an incident in which a conversation about name changes during a staff meeting descended into a tirade against the transgender community by many of the teachers. “I didn’t say anything. I felt like no one was even looking at me. Maybe they were. I felt small. I felt emotional, because I felt angry, afraid,” they recalled.
This person has dedicated much of their life to studying Armenian language and literature, with a passion that Armenian schools endeavor to inspire within their students. However, they no longer see a future for themselves as an Armenian school teacher.
“I felt it in my gut — there’s another way. I don’t need to be putting myself through this. I was giving so much of my emotional energy into working this job as a teacher,” they reflected. “I felt an opportunity to give back to this community on how we can be more inclusive. It almost seems altruistic.”
“They’re coming at it from this false sense of protecting their children, whereas I would like to protect all the children, including the queer children,” Vanian-Green said. “They want to protect who they think the kids are, and I want to protect whoever the kids are.”
The other teacher I spoke with did not grow up connected with their heritage. They jumped at the opportunity to work at an Armenian school and make a conscious commitment as an adult to immersing themselves in the culture. Yet their treatment at the school has left them in deep pain.
“I’m still proud to be Armenian. It’s one of the most important things in my life, to continue Armenian culture, education and awareness, but in terms of expecting that I can feel comfortable and safe in the community, not so much,” they shared. “It felt like something special to be a part of before. Now it feels scary.”
They hope Armenian schools can recognize the educational value of exposing students to diverse identities and perspectives. “Educating children about queer identities is a pretty important part of preparing children to be in the world. Divorced from any ideology, it feels like a disservice to students if they’re not getting the information and education they need to contribute to environments where something unfamiliar to you is frightening,” they said.
Another teacher I spoke with also lamented that LGBTQ topics are completely absent from Armenian school curriculum and conversations in general. They argued that Armenian schools can begin to gradually introduce LGBTQ topics in subjects where they would be relevant, such as biology, health or sexual education.
Growing up attending an Armenian school, they appreciated the unique, tight-knit environment, akin to a family, that is a marker of so many of these schools. However, that intimacy is a double edged sword. For queer Armenians who come to rely on that support, it can easily be taken away if they fail to follow the community’s unspoken rules and present as straight.
“It’s a judgment issue that may have repercussions down the line. Will people hire me? Will it affect my family’s business? Societal and community safety is at risk, which is the foundational stuff that Armenian schools teach. If you violate those norms, you’re now outside of that community,” they reflected.
While Armenian schools are not yet equipped to support and affirm LGBTQ youth, they still serve an important purpose in building another facet of identity — an Armenian identity.
“In my head, it’s about more than just me…If I can do this for the Armenian community, it’s helping them figure out one half of who they are, contributing to part of their identity,” they said. “Understanding queer history is just as important as an Armenian history class for a little gay boy.”
While most Armenian schools do not explicitly advocate for LGBTQ inclusion, there are instances in which they respond proactively to homophobic or transphobic bullying. As Vanian-Green shared, while her daughter’s school would not take a stance on LGBTQ issues, it would take disciplinary action in response to harmful behavior. Armen Menechyan, a former Armenian school teacher, felt supported by his administration when he shut down an instance of transphobic bullying in his classroom.
During one of Menechyan’s classes in the 2018-2019 school year, an eighth grade student gave a presentation on a YouTube influencer who is a transgender makeup artist. When one of the boys interrupted the presentation with a loud, transphobic comment, Menechyan promptly asked him to leave, stating that hate would not be tolerated in his classroom.
Later that day, as Menechyan sat in his classroom processing the incident, the boy’s father arrived on campus in a rage. The father shouted homophobic slurs and demanded to confront him, according to Menechyan’s colleagues. The principal held firm, asking that the father leave campus.
The following day, the administration organized an assembly with the entire eighth grade class, led by Menechyan. “What happened was hateful, especially with a teacher who identifies as queer. I kind of wanted to express to them the human impact of making these sorts of statements, because I know I have queer students in there who will be affected by this,” Menechyan said.
“Me speaking up was giving voice to those who couldn’t have a voice at that age. Going back to when I was in the eighth grade and these kinds of comments were being made, how I felt in my eighth grade gay body was not pleasant,” he continued.
Looking ahead to “progressive cultural shift”
The GALAS LGBTQ+ Armenian Society, the largest queer Armenian organization in the United States, has been the face of Armenian activism in response to last June’s protests. The organization has led efforts to combat misinformation, offer mental health and wellness support to queer Armenians and advocate for inclusion — or, in GALAS president Erik Adamian’s words, serve as a “hub for progressive cultural shift.”
Adamian sees an opportunity for Armenian schools to be torchbearers of progress alongside organizations like GALAS. “Armenian schools provide a very unique and culturally responsive opportunity for people within the Armenian community to learn more about their history, their heritage, feel affirmed in our identities and take pride in being Armenian,” he said.
“I think that private Armenian schools have an opportunity to respond to the needs of their community members and be a part of cultivating acceptance, joy and celebration of varied Armenian experiences,” Adamian continued. “It’s not only a matter of inclusion. It’s a matter of keeping our communities and our culture alive, thriving and growing into the future, but we can’t do that when Armenian community members are attacking their own.”
Lillian Avedian is the assistant editor of the Armenian Weekly. She reports on international women’s rights, South Caucasus politics, and diasporic identity. Her writing has also been published in the Los Angeles Review of Books, Democracy in Exile, and Girls on Key Press. She holds master’s degrees in journalism and Near Eastern studies from New York University.
