This Armenian Dating Show Doubles as a Lesson in Geopolitics and Culture

In the midst of 2020's COVID-19 lockdown, Anthony Dikran Abaci had a flash of inspiration. Spurred by the episodes of reality shows "90 Day Fiancé" and "Indian Matchmaking" he had been watching, the L.A.-based producer wondered, what if he made a dating show that focused on people who, like Abaci, were ethnic Armenians?

A dating show wasn't part of the plan earlier that year, when he first considered launching a production studio and creative agency focused on Armenian stories. "It was about creating a show that Armenians and my community could be proud of and non-Armenians could connect with," Abaci says of the plan on a recent video call from Carmel, where he was traveling.

But, dating is what Abaci calls a "spiderweb," in which the various threads of history and culture are connected. When "The Armenian Dating Show" debuted on YouTube in November of 2021, the series functioned in that same fashion. Its ten-episode first season followed 11 Armenian Angelenos in their 20s and 30s as they looked for a potential love match. The show's catch: Some of their families would meet their dates before they did. As the dates got acquainted with each other, and with the families, viewers learned about food and, perhaps, even picked up a few Armenian words and phrases.

More importantly, though, they got a glimpse into the lives of the Millennial and Gen Z cast, all of whom were maintaining connections to tradition in 21st-century Los Angeles. Moreover, viewers would see how L.A.'sArmenian diaspora were shaped by the 1915 Armenian Genocide as well upheaval in various countries over the century that followed, reacted to a war in Artsakh, part of the historic Armenian homeland that had transpired just a few months earlier.

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Raised in Silicon Valley, Abaci grew up in a small, but tight-knit Armenian community revolving around St. Andrew's Armenian Apostolic Church in Cupertino, where his family was active and Abaci himself served as a deacon. During the summers, he headed to an Armenian summer camp, connecting with kids who shared more of his background than his classmates at the public schools he attended. After studying film at Chapman University, Abaci became a producer of brand content, working on campaigns for Spotify, Def Jam Records and DJ Marshmello. "From telling everyone else's stories for so long, I realized, where's my Armenian story?" he says. He started Miaseen, which is Armenian for "together," to do just that.

With a full-time staff of three people and a roster of freelancers that ebbs and flows with various projects, Miaseen takes a broad approach to telling Armenian stories. They collaborated with non-profit relief organization Kooyrigs to tell the stories of people in Armenian villages that were impacted by the 2020 war. They've produced marketplaces and immersive events at their studio, located on the edge of Glendale bordering Los Feliz and Atwater Village. They've also created a handful of web series, including "Arm 101," where comedians breakdown the various dialects of Armenian language, and "Studio Sessions," which highlights Armenians in the music industry.

Miaseen's work highlights the fact that there is no single Armenian experience. "We're a validation company," says Abaci. "We're in the business of validating people's Armenian experience."

That means digging into the multi-faceted identities of the people they spotlight. "Everybody has their own story to tell. Everybody is their own main character," says Abaci. "In Armenian culture, it's so much about community, which I think is great. That's why we've stayed around for so long. But, there's not an emphasis on individualism, even individual in terms of, what ideas can you bring to the table."

The balance between Armenian and American culture — of being "Armenian enough," as they say — is something that comes up in conversation often at Miaseen. Alique Derderian, who joined Miaseen as an intern in 2021 and is now an associate producer, offers some personal perspective. "Growing up in Armenian school, there are not that many places where you can be anonymous or not really worried about the whole collectivist culture. People are going to remember what you did or how you're acting," she says by video call from Arcadia. For Derderian, who was raised in Pasadena, that changed when she attended a non-Armenian high school and then headed off to college. "It helped figure out who you are beside the Armenian community and have a stronger sense of who you are," she says.

These are all insights that Miaseen brought into "The Armenian Dating Show," a series whose premise pushes against tradition. "Traditional Armenian culture is, you're not supposed to date around. You just have to get married. We don't want to hear about it until you're engaged," Abaci explains.

"When you're making a dating show for a very conservative community and it's the first season of the show and people don't know who you are, every moment is controversial," he adds. "I had so many messages from people saying, 'You're doing the devil's work, stop.'"

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But, what would go on to complicate the series wasn't opposition to the subject matter. It was a series of events that transpired more than 7,000 miles away from California. Just a few weeks after Miaseen began the casting process for "The Armenian Dating Show," Azerbaijan attacked the Armenian-populated enclave of Artsakh, kickstarting a 44-day war that would impact Armenian communities across the globe. In this midst of this turmoil, Miaseen temporarily halted the online casting campaign, yet Abaci continued to see messages from people who were excited about the project. He read those messages in between checking updates on the war that was unfolding and had a revelation: What if Miaseen could be a platform to spread joy as well as awareness? "What the war really helped us understand was that we could give happiness and a place of rest to our community," he says.

While "The Armenian Dating Show" was filmed in late spring and early summer of 2021, the shadow of the war looms in the background, as some cast members do discuss its impact on their relationship to Armenian culture. Just as the war didn't really end with the ceasefire — tensions have remained high and periodic clashes have occurred throughout 2021 and 2022 — that fear of what many refer to as an "existential threat," the loss of Indigenous homeland that remains in Armenian hands, hasn't faded either.

In fact, the war plays into the series to such an extent that Abaci says his proudest moment was that, by the end of the shoot, the crew — which included Armenian and non-Armenian people — could all properly pronounce Artsakh.

On its surface, "The Armenian Dating Show" is as its title states, but, underneath that, it's a look at the lives of Armenian Americans in Los Angeles when a present-day event triggers a look back into a tragic history. It's a way of documenting a particular community at a critical point in time.

"If we don't record our culture and history, no one is ever going to know about us," says Abaci. "'The Dating Show,' in a way, could be viewed as a historical document in 20-30 years because, if we don't record what our culture is like in a new way, how are we ever going to continue on in history?"

He adds, "I know it sounds silly that a dating show is that cultural artifact, but what else is?"