Author’s note: I would like to thank Edwin Korouri for suggesting this topic to me.
As a Persian living in the suburbs, you can probably relate:
You speak Finglish at home (alternating between Farsi and English every two words or so).
As you got older, your Farsi got more and more mediocre to the point where your family in Iran makes fun of you for your “Kharegee” accent. That’s why you don’t call them anymore.
Your non-Persian friends look at you like this when you tell them about how much tea you’ve consumed so far each day.
All your clothes are black.
Having to check off the “Caucasion” box has never made any sense to you because you definitely never led a “white” life.
Your mom has probably forced you to try out all the kabob places within a 20 mile radius of your home, and none of them lived up to your expectations. None. Of. Them.
Growing up, your Saturday nights were almost always reserved for a Persian party hosted by one of your family friends, or your own family.
Let’s just say, when your family hosted those Persian parties, you would walk into your room and there’d be 20 random children from different families invading your space.