america- land of opportunity

There I was. 20 years old. Holding a sign that read, “Feed the needy. Feed the poor. Who wants to fight this war?” Our lovely Chief of State declared war on Iraq. I’ll never forget it. I was living in Washington, DC. Georgetown campus. Presidential Classroom Intern at your service. March 19, 2003 in the SSO (Student Services Office.) I had my name badge on with my American flag pin like a true Americano. George W. Bush was on the tube. “My fellow citizens, at this hour American and coalition forces are in the early stages of military operations to disarm Iraq, to free its people and to defend the world from grave danger.” The world would change forever. I was terrified. I felt alone. Away from my parents, away from my friends, away from everything familiar.

Out of 200 applicants, I was one of fourteen chosen. The director of the program called to ask me a few questions. The last and the most memorable, “Who is your hero?” Without hesitation, I immediately responded. “My dad.” Why? Because he moved to this country with nothing and built his life with hard work, perseverance, and tenacity. Barely able to speak the language, he created a life for himself and our family. A few days later, I received a phone call. “Erica, we would like you to be part of Presidential Classroom.” To be honest, I was surprised. I didn’t think I was even in the running. It was decided for me. I was headed east for a short, convenient three months. The first time I would ever be away from home. Camp didn't count.

My parents were excited and terrified at the same time. So much so that they followed me to the nation’s capitol to make sure their only daughter was safe and unharmed. There I was, surrounded by historic monuments and mamma Sardarian wouldn’t let go of my hand. Similar to my first day of kindergarten except this time I wasn’t crying. I was excited. I was the only adult escorted. There was no push to go play with the kids. The push came from me. No longer a teenager, but now an adult. At the time, I was embarrassed. But now looking back, thankful. Thankful, because Aram and Helen cared that much that they flew across the country to make sure I was okay. I was secretly scared. No backing out now.

So, where was I? Oh yes, the “War on Terror” as Bush so eloquently put it. A few of the other diehard interns were just as passionate as I was about the declaration. We needed to stand up for ourselves. We needed to stand up for the people who would be risking their lives to protect us, to protect our country. We did what we thought would be the most effective in our minds. Protest. That’s what they did in the 70’s right? So, we put together a few poster boards, grabbed a few markers, and began brainstorming. Stephanies’s said, “Bush can’t talk. Bush can’t speak. Peace is what we want to seek” Michael’s said, “Illegitimate President fighting an illegitimate war.” There we were. The three of us. On Capitol Hill. Three Americans with a voice. The freedom to speak. The freedom to fight against something we didn't believe in. A moment in history, never forgotten. As a first generation Armenian, I felt a sense of emancipation. The same sense of freedom my parents may have felt when they came to this country, risking everything in hopes of creating a better life for themselves and their future. In that moment, I was proud.