“I will only be happy when I return to Armenia.” These are the words Inesa Rubinyan-Nersisyan wrote in her diary after leaving Armenia for Sweden and finding herself surrounded by customs and ways of life that felt completely unfamiliar to her.
 

Inesa was born in Metsamor, spent her childhood in Yerevan, and at the age of 13 left to grow up in Europe. The need to quickly learn a new language and adapt to a new city “forced” her to accept reality and begin fighting for her place in the world.
 

“It was very difficult. During the first year, I had no communication with my classmates. Back then, in my notebook, which I still keep to this day, I wrote long texts that all carried one clear thought: returning to Armenia. But I understood that at 13 I could not simply leave, so I directed all my energy toward education. I graduated from high school with very strong results, entered university, and while studying, I worked at the Employment Agency and at the Migration Service as an investigator,” the heroine begins her story.
 

Her desire for a good education brought her to the city of Uppsala, home to one of the world’s top universities. Inesa studied Development Studies with a focus on peace and conflict, worked at the Swedish Migration Agency and in the field of women’s rights protection, led a networking organization in Uppsala, and became acquainted with the local Armenian community — the oldest Armenian community in the country. At one time, it had been very active, but over the years much of that activity had faded away. The 44-day war in Artsakh became the reason for reviving its work. Inesa joined the community and remained actively involved in public and community life until 2023, when she repatriated to Armenia.

The Armenian Community of Uppsala
 

“We were all thinking: how can we help Armenia and Artsakh? People were meeting each other for the first time, full of energy and a desire to do something useful. We organized fundraising campaigns and sent specific supplies to Armenia. Those were two intense months filled with pain, during which the community essentially became our home.
 

From 2021, I was a member of the Board of the Armenian Community of Uppsala and the board of the coordinating center for Armenian communities. There are 20 Armenian community organizations operating in Sweden. From 2020 to 2023, I devoted all my free time to the community,” Inesa says.
 

Through this work, she met Armenians who had come from different countries, as well as members of the second and third generations. Each person brought their own culture into the community. According to Inesa, there is something very beautiful about this, but over time she realized that the differences between these cultures are significant, and preserving them in a country with an active policy of assimilation is either impossible or extremely difficult. Although the community could receive certain funding from the state, there was little support for involving young people in community life.

Responsibility for Presenting a Truthful Image of Armenia
 

The Armenian community in Sweden is in a very vulnerable position, and there are different reasons for this: the position of the state, the lack of an active stance among the older generation or, on the contrary, the presence of a negative one, insufficient information about Armenia and from Armenia, and a lack of direct experience and connection with the country.
 

“Many Armenians living in the diaspora sometimes do not perceive Armenia as an existing state, and I think this happens because of a lack of information and because they have neither the opportunity nor the desire to visit Armenia. I often speak about this, and unfortunately, many people politicize my words and associate them with affiliation with some political force. It pains me to say this, but for many people, the homeland is either the historical homeland that has already been lost, or an Armenia that, at least, I do not recognize. In other words, it is an Armenia painted in dark colors. Perhaps these are not the views of young people themselves but those of their parents — the generation that left Armenia in the 1990s, or perhaps even earlier — and passed their traumas on to their children, who are now interested in discovering Armenia for themselves,” the heroine reflects.
 

Discussing responsibility for ensuring that the diaspora has truthful information about Armenia and is aware of the opportunities available there, Inesa expressed confidence that this responsibility should lie with both sides — with the state and its institutions, as well as with individuals living in the diaspora or their parents. For example, people in the diaspora may not know about opportunities such as the iGorts program, programs of the Office of the High Commissioner for Diaspora Affairs of the Republic of Armenia, or volunteering opportunities, and the relevant institutions should make sure this information reaches the communities. But very often, representatives of the diaspora themselves have no interest in learning about such programs. In those cases, it is unfair to place all responsibility on the state or public organizations: “If a person feels that they belong to Armenia, they naturally feel responsibility as well. It is an instinct: if you feel that something is yours, a sense of responsibility also appears.”
 

Inesa is convinced that the problem is not only that the state does not offer its help; the diaspora itself often struggles to formulate its needs and communicate them to the state.

A Promise Made to Herself at Gandzasar
 

The turning point when Inesa was finally able to clearly formulate what she wanted came during the 44-day Artsakh war: she wanted to do more. She applied to the “Diaspora Youth Ambassador” program of the Office of the High Commissioner for Diaspora Affairs of the Republic of Armenia, hoping to acquire new skills and apply them in the work of the community. But during a three-day visit to post-war Artsakh, while at Gandzasar, she finally spoke honestly and openly with her inner voice: “Who are you fooling? What are you waiting for?” It was dark and foggy; people were surrounded by fog, and there was fog in her thoughts as well. That was when she told herself: “Two years. I am giving you two years. In two years, you have to be here, in Artsakh.”
 

…and Keeping That Promise
 

Two years later, Artsakh had been lost, but Inesa, after applying to the iGorts program, returned to Armenia and worked for a year at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Republic of Armenia. After that came the United Nations and the International Organization for Migration. Since 2025, she has been working at the Swedish National Courts Administration, which cooperates with Armenia’s Ministry of Justice, while teaching Swedish in the evenings.
 

In her opinion, many people come to Armenia without connections or sufficient information, but with very high expectations. They quickly become disappointed and, at most, leave again within a year: “I never judge those who leave. My words are addressed to those who are hesitating — should they come or not, should they try or not?! I myself do not know where I will be in a year, but every day I fight for my place here. Why should we have to choose between sending money here and moving here? Why can’t we come for three months, for example, do something useful, and then leave?!”
 

Inesa admits that she becomes very emotional when speaking about the diaspora because she herself was just one step away from becoming Swedish rather than Armenian. That is why she considers it wrong to put pressure on people in the diaspora by calling on them to move to Armenia.
 

“The diaspora is a self-dissolving organism; it cannot exist forever. Either we continue living our lives and feel happy whenever we see an Armenian surname in the credits of a movie, or we take responsibility for spreading information about the programs and opportunities available here. One out of ten may come — and those are usually brave and emotional people. People do not come here by accident.
 

We have too many expectations of the diaspora and of ourselves. I do not remember what expectations I had, but reality is more interesting, more meaningful. I am not saying it is better — I am saying it is more interesting. Today, I looked out the window of my apartment and thought: God, I did it. I kept the promise I made to that 13-year-old girl. Her dream came true…”
 

Interview by Nare Bejanyan

Translation via AI based on the original article in Russian:  В погоне за мечтой. Инеса Рубинян-Нерсисян