Nonny Hogrogian: Stealth Revolutionary

2026-02-24 - 09:54

Listen to the AI generated audio article. Your browser does not support the audio element. It’s Thanksgiving Day in Gyumri, Armenia, and two posts appear on my Instagram feed. One is from the Sioux Chef, who writes, “The Thanksgiving fantasy is comfort food for the American psyche, specially plated for descendants of white European settlers.” The other is from an Armenian news outlet expressing solidarity with Native Americans. As Armenians, we are familiar with the narrative of colonizers who whitewash their genocidal, land-stealing history with tales of brotherly love and collateral damage. There is something perversely familiar in the insistence that nothing terrible happened, paired with meticulous explanations of why the victims somehow deserved it. In a 2006 New Yorker essay, Elizabeth Kolbert wrote, “We may side with the Armenians, but, historically speaking, we probably have more in common with the Turks.” Yet when I was in kindergarten on Long Island in 1977, we dressed up as pilgrims and “Indians,” celebrating a kumbaya myth that, as the Sioux Chef stated, “...gives white America the convenience of innocence where there was none.” American history, as I learned it, was told from the European perspective. In elementary school, every couple of months we would study a new country, thereby learning all about the world. The “world” was, of course, Europe. Once, at a teacher’s urging, I suggested a new country to study: Armenia. With incredible confusion and irritation, she asserted, “No one cares about Armenia”—unwittingly echoing the words of Hitler. In the 1960s, marginalized groups in America began agitating for a voice. The civil rights movement lobbied for the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act. The National Farm Workers Association, the National Organization for Women, and the American Indian Movement were some of the movements that demanded a reckoning. These changes influenced every sector of society: art, media, politics, education. Americans did not transform overnight, but they began to shake off the inertia. While those who shouted in the streets achieved great strides, there were those who whispered in the libraries and bent the ears of children. They quietly influenced generations to come. One such stealth revolutionary was children’s book author and illustrator, Nonny Hogrogian. She was among the artists who introduced multiculturalism, immigrant stories, and narratives of people from lands outside the establishment. I remember our first grade teacher hushing us and requesting respectful attention as we sat cross-legged on the floor. We listened raptly as she began to read. With a hint of Sunday reverence, she held in her palms a book with an embossed gold medallion. Nonny Hogrogian’s “One Fine Day” had won the prestigious Caldecott Medal. No one mentioned that the story came from Armenian folklore. But seeing the cover, my eyes immediately landed on three letters:
i-a-n In the book, characters were dressed in the styles, textures, and prints I recognized from pre-genocide family photos. There was a donkey laden with jessup coffee pots, a kerchiefed old woman with richly detailed textiles, and a mustachioed man with a fez, embroidered pants, and a sash around his waist. Whether Nonny used old-world techniques like block prints in her illustrations or watercolors, as with “One Fine Day,” she created a feel and look that transported the reader to intriguing faraway places. And, Nonny gave those places significance. Throughout her prolific career, which garnered two Caldecott Medals and one Caldecott Honor, Nonny constantly drew from her Armenian background for inspiration and material. “In the beginning, I was telling all the Armenian stories that my grandmother had told me,” she recalled in a 2016 interview. “That was pretty simple for me.” But she was not merely retelling familiar stories from youth. She was sharing stories with strong nationalistic themes that were, according to The Washington Post, “widely credited with helping to widen the cultural breadth of children’s literature.” By representing the food, visuals, experiences, and music of her ethnic homeland, she was celebrating her own identity. At a time when there was very little room for diversity in America, she wrote “Once There Was and Was Not: Armenian Tales Retold” (1966), “Three Apples Fell From Heaven” (1971), “One Fine Day” (1972), and “The Contest” (1976)—all based on Armenian folk tales. Nonny was claiming her right to exist, as an Armenian. This was especially poignant considering her parents had fled a world that denied them the right to exist, as Armenians. Nonny Hogrogian’s parents survived the genocide and fled to America, as did my grandparents. Her mother did piecework to survive the Great Depression, as did my maternal grandmother. And, Nonny got her degree in art, as did my mother. But in 1957, when my mother got married, as Armenian girls were expected to do, Nonny went on to pursue graduate work at the New School for Social Research, studying with illustrator and artist Antonio Frasconi. In the 1950s, earning a bachelor’s degree was unusual enough for a woman. Graduate work was extremely rare. And, it certainly wasn’t normal for an Armenian woman to break the mold. Nonny did not conform to societal expectations. In later speeches and interviews encouraging young artists, she often said, “Do it. You just have to push your way in.” Kicking doors open was her modus operandi and she was motivated by pride in herself and what she represented. Richard Michelson, a friend and fellow children’s author, wrote, “She proudly explored her Armenian heritage in her many books—mining its folk tales and her own history—at a time when most books were more interested in creating a ‘melting pot’ than a ‘patchwork quilt.’” The concept of a “melting pot” has always been a point of pride for Americans. The term came from a 1908 play by the same name, which depicted old world antagonisms as simply “melting away”. But, old world identities had to melt away too. America acted as a refiner’s fire for diversity. In truth, it amounted to acculturation. And acculturation is erasure. Acculturation is what happened by force in Native American boarding schools from the late 19th century until the 1930s.
 My father, born in the 1920s, pronounced his last name, Markarian, as “McKerran.” His college roommate, Al Donigian, pronounced his “Donegan”. Hilariously, these dark-skinned, ethnic looking young men attempted to pass as Irish—a lesser ethnic offense. It’s not that you would be punished for being ethnic in America at that time; you simply wouldn’t be rewarded. Your world would remain small. You would be ghettoized. To access the larger world of post-war economic opportunities, you had to minimize your individuality. But, Nonny Hogrogian did not seek to reduce her individuality or that of the children who heard her tales. As Nonny stated in a 1966 Publishers Weekly interview, “possibly the greatest satisfaction (in my work) comes from taking an active part in enlarging a child’s world, even a little.” Nonny’s firebrand approach was forged from refusing to accept limitations. When she wasn’t admitted to The Music & Arts High School because of a confusing exam procedure, she redoubled her determination. She recalled in her 2004 memoir, Finding my Name, “Underneath the upset, there was a growing outrage from their saying that this was a test of talent. I know I had talent. I would prove them wrong.” Challenging the status quo and pushing boundaries went hand in glove with being a seeker. In 1971, Nonny married poet and writer David Kherdian, with whom she often collaborated artistically. They traveled around the United States and spent seven years in an Oregon compound studying the teachings of George Ivanovich Gurdjieff. Born in Gyumri, then Alexandropol, Gurdjieff was a controversial philosopher who urged his students to shake off the lethargy of “waking sleep,” a state of not questioning conventional norms. Nonny and David also challenged norms in Armenia. They protested the “anti-propaganda” legislation in 2013, which aimed to codify anti-gay prejudice. Deeply entrenched norms in Armenia seem immovable, but so were the deeply entrenched norms in America before the 1960s. Revolutionaries never stop fighting. In 2016, Nonny and David moved to Armenia to escape the narrow-mindedness of the Trump presidency, but a back injury forced Nonny to return. In her memoir, she noted, “I became an expert contour artist and anyone who says it takes no training is mistaken. No training by a teacher, perhaps, but freedom of the wrist and hand and plenty of practice.” After being shunned by The Music & Arts High School, Nonny taught herself to draw. Persistence, focus, and most of all, freedom, was the recipe for her success. Nonny understood the value of freedom and stubbornly stood her ground to claim it. Freedom meant taking space by being true to herself and true to her history. Comment Cover photo by Roubina Margossian. LIFESTYLE Transitions February’s SALT issue explores the quiet and defiant shifts reshaping Armenian society, from gendered double standards around smoking and young women living independently, to reclaiming St. Sargis in the age of Valentine’s Day. With a profile featuring Armenian-American writer and illustrator Nonny Hogrogian and a photo story about women footballers breaking barriers, this issue is all about transitions. Smoking, Shame and Gendered Surveillance Tamara Khachatryan Feb 23, 2026 In Armenia, while men navigate the harmful habit of smoking with relative freedom, young women are faced with judgment, surveillance and social scrutiny. Tamara Khachatryan examines how gendered expectations shape who is shamed, who is ignored and how societal norms enforce control. Read more Move Over St. Valentine Maria Tumanyan Feb 23, 2026 While Yerevan is awash with roses and red balloons on Valentine’s Day each year, Armenia’s own patron saint of lovers quietly fades into the background. Maria Tumanyan uncovers the layered history, pagan roots and enduring rituals of St. Sargis, a feast where love, legend and identity intertwine. Read more An Apartment of One’s Own Eliza Barkhudaryan Feb 24, 2026 In a society where young women rarely live alone, Eliza Barkhudaryan reflects on carving out a space of her own. In this very honest piece, she explores independence, quiet rebellion, and the tender, unsettling transition from daughterhood to self-defined adulthood in Armenia. Read more