We have all heard the phrase “diversity is a strength.” But what happens when a hate incident targets a community in a city where that very identity is deeply rooted? In Glendale, California, a recent incident suggests that the phrase is only as strong as the accountability behind it. 

Armenian identity has a longstanding presence in Glendale, dating back to the early 1900s. Today the city is home to one of the largest Armenian populations in the United States, with Armenian churches, schools, businesses, and cultural organizations woven into its everyday life. As an ethnic minority in the United States, Armenian-Americans are able to thrive in their cultural identity within Glendale, where their culture, language, and traditions remain visible and are preserved across generations. 

Yet even in a city where Armenian identity is so firmly recognized — arguably a staple of the city itself — anti-Armenian hostility still finds ways to surface. 

In late August of this year, fliers designed to resemble folded $100 bills were found containing derogatory anti-Armenian language. One side displayed the slur “STUPIDIANS,” with the letters colored in red, blue, and orange — the colors of the Armenian flag. The materials were made to look like money, inviting unsuspecting residents and children to pick them up, only to reveal the message: “THIS IS AMERICA NOT STUPID ARMENIA.” 

As the Armenian National Committee of America’s (ANCA) Glendale chapter and local Armenian-American news outlets put so eloquently, this was not the first anti-Armenian incident to occur in the region — Armenian churches, community institutions, and schools have also been targeted before, raising concerns that this type of hostility is not entirely isolated. 

The location and timing made this incident particularly troubling. The materials were distributed throughout the residential neighborhood surrounding Glenoaks Elementary School — an elementary school where children as young as five years old are still developing the fundamental skills they need to understand and navigate the world around them. A folded bill on a sidewalk is easy for a child to pick up. The colors come to their eyes first — red, blue, orange. Then the words form. Their small hands go still, and their curious mind goes blank. The walk home continues, a little quieter than before.

That same week, the Glendale Unified School District launched the nation’s first Western Armenian Dual Language Immersion Program at Glenoaks — a milestone for the preservation of Western Armenian language and culture for future generations. While a historic step was being taken toward preserving Armenian culture in America, messages were circulating designed to disparage that same culture just streets away. Beyond the symbolism of these two events unfolding in the same week, the deeper concern is how Armenian children may come to view their own heritage. 

What about Armenian residents who have called Glendale home for generations? What about the parents whose children may be exposed to messages like this on their walk to school? What about non-targeted communities who witness hatred directed at a community that is part of their own city? Incidents like this one shape how families, neighbors, and the broader community come to understand the safety of the city they reside in. 

This is where the comforting language of inclusion runs into a harder question. In recent years, a particular emphasis has been placed on cultural diversity — the idea that differences are what bring a society together, and that everyone, regardless of race or ethnicity, is meant to be included and accepted. So when the Armenian-American community is targeted in Glendale, that language falls apart; the phrase “diversity is a strength” starts to feel less like a value and more like a slogan. Is it really a strength if one of the communities that makes Glendale so diverse can still be targeted with slur-filled fliers scattered near an elementary school? The answer depends less on the phrase itself than on what the community does after an incident like this — and that is the real measure of whether “diversity is a strength” means anything at all. 

If the Armenian-American community is to feel that its culture is truly valued, acts of hate against that culture must be met with accountability. When previous incidents go without meaningful consequences, it sends the message that this behavior carries little risk — which only makes future incidents easier to repeat. 

Real accountability starts with documenting hate incidents, investigating them, identifying those responsible, and making clear that targeted communities are not expected to simply absorb repeated hostility. 

But accountability does not come from institutions alone — it depends just as much on the people within the community. 

Individuals have a responsibility to address hostility, even when it is not directed at them personally. 

See discriminatory fliers scattered on the ground? Report them. Hear derogatory language? Speak out. Witness someone being targeted because of their ethnicity? Refuse to stay silent. 

Residents can also refuse to let an incident die down once the initial outrage fades — by continuing to ask about the investigation, supporting organizations that document hate incidents, and pushing local leaders to explain what steps are being taken to prevent similar acts. 

Non-Armenian residents have just as much of a role in this response as Armenian residents do. When people speak up for a community other than their own, they make it clear that prejudice is not merely the problem of the group being targeted — it is a problem for the entire city. That principle extends far beyond Glendale. 

This same principle drove Martin Niemöller to write so starkly: “First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out — because I was not a socialist. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out — because I was not a trade unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out — because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me — and there was no one left to speak for me.” 

Individuals have a responsibility to address hostility, even when it is not directed at them personally.

Every community, regardless of race, ethnicity, religion, or cultural background, is stronger when its members refuse to stay indifferent to hatred directed at others. Communities cannot protect diversity by standing apart from one another; they have to come together, both to prevent discrimination and to demand real solutions when acts of hate occur. 

Only then does “diversity is a strength” stop being a phrase we repeat and start being one we can actually stand behind.