"We are NOT Arabs....We are Persian"

This is a common statement heard in an Iranian household..I heard it many times as a child, all the while not really understanding it. I thought I was American. After all, I was born here and my Mom is Italian American, I spoke English and all my friends were some sort of American mixture of various races and religions. Besides that, 40 years ago most Americans didn't even know where Iran was or anything about it's rich culture. Nonetheless, my father insisted.."We are not Arabs, We are Persian"....At that time there were very few Iranians living in the USA and my Dad knew most of them. Occasionally he would have "boys night" where His Persian cronies would congregate for a night of poker and partying. I learned quick to lay low during these events as one particular friend "Farouk" took great pleasure in pinching my cheeks with his large hands whenever he saw me, telling me how cute I was. All the while my face would go numb and I was writhing in pain. From then on, when he came over I ran to my room... Then there were the festive events such as Norooz (Persian New Year), where my folks would throw an Iranian bash. My Dad would cook all the delicacies and the parties were filled with all sorts of Persian friends and relatives. The room would resonate with sounds of Farsi and English with lots of laughter and merriment. Lots of Good food, wine, Persian music and hospitality.

Then when I was 11, a family moved into the neighborhood who spoke Farsi.. They were Armenians who had migrated to Iran and the children were born and raised there. There was a daughter my age and she became the closet to a Persian friend that I had. We easily bonded. Even though I was more "American", I felt at home in her house. Upon entering her house, one would encounter that wonderful aroma of aromatic spices that only a Persian household has. The kitchen cabinets were filled with exotic spices and food stuffs from Iran. The refrigerator had yogurt, kashk and other Persian goodies. We played games, talked about boys, ate pistachios imported from ancient trees, dried mulberries (toot) and if we were lucky someone sent Gaz (a nougat candy) form the old country. We made strong black Turkish coffee with sugar and she would read our fortunes in the dark grounds left in the demitasse afterwards. Life was good. She would teach me Armenian phrases and we would boss around her younger sister who was 10 years junior.

She had had talked about going to Iran for the summer and asked me to join her. I really wanted to go. So I asked my Dad and he said no. Even though this was during the Shah's regime and Tehran was quite cosmopolitan, he expressed a fear. but why? At that time Iranian women were educated. Many were attorneys, judges, as well as had other careers. But he was stern and insisted it might not be a good idea. "They can keep your passport and put you into the Army". That's all I remember as his reasoning..."You are an Iranian citizen".. As my father was an attorney and even did legal work for the Persian consulate, I could not argue. someday I thought, when I grow up.

A few years passed, I became a teenager and my friend and I went to different high schools. We slowly drifted apart as our interests changed. Then came the Revolution. Ayatollah Khomeini's reign began. The country quickly digressed and became a fundamentalist environment. Persians fled and the ones with lots of wealth migrated to Europe and/or California. Other stayed and endured the changes. All of a sudden, there was a large growing Persian community here. At one point, The only Farzan's in the phone book were my relatives. Now there are many. Iran is now an American household word. Unfortunately not for it's good things (education, culture, art poetry, music, textiles and artisans) but perhaps someday that will change. It's kind of funny how my heritage which was relatively unknown to most Americans is now associated with the Axis of Evil and terrorism. Oh well, that will hopefully change.

BTW- Most Iraqi's are Arab.