A Non-Fraud Fraud.... Or Already Am What I Already Am
What is in a name? Scratch that. What is in a DNA. My DNA says I am Persian. Am I Persian? What is it to be Persian? Can I say I am a Persian American... am I a Persian American? I woke up this morning... still don't know a word of Farsi, I don't know what my paternal grandma's favorite dish tastes like, I listened to some Iranian pop music... it was nice at first, but started to drive me crazy after 30 minutes. I go into the bathroom, wash my face... and I see me. And I see my eyebrows, and I know it is true.
I am loving myself in a way that I didn't before. Finally understanding why I don't meet the standard of beauty in this country. My unwanted hair... is now, understandable. I Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaated my eyebrows as a kid. I thought I looked like oscar the grouch. They stayed hidden behind a thick crop of bangs. I think my mom didn't like my tall forehead.
And omg do a lot of Iranians have chin dimples! A lot of them do!!! It's crazy.
And then there was this. I thought about my bio dad. I don't know him, but I already know a lot of his story, just be knowing he is from Iran. And the story goes.... he came over as a refugee from religious persecution in Iran. He is of the Bahai faith. He didn't speak English. He needed money. An Iranian obgyn offered to pay him for sperm donation. And here I am.
But I cried. I cried for him. I cried for whatever he lost in Iran. I cry because of the hardships he must have faced in coming to the U.S. But then I stopped myself. He is not my father, why am I crying for him?
Then another feeling... a feeling of forgiveness.... a feeling of compassion for him. Before knowing him I was mad... I was angry at him... how could he not care... the doctor who was just doing his job, and my mom... no one thinking that this baby would grow up and want to know.
But I don't feel like that now that I know. Now that I know, I don't feel like that. I DID need to know. I am not angry anymore. I am not angry at him, or at anyone anymore. Now I feel thankfulness and gratefulness. It seems like a weird way to help someone. But I am thankful.
I have even found a great deal of relief from the pain of my social dad. Of being angry about not helping me on my journey. About how he treated me and raised me. But now I feel much more distanced from it. I can even find some respect and appreciation for the years that he did raise me and treat me okay.
So am I Persian? Can I call myself that..... next time, I want to talk about my intuition on the matter and how, in many, many ways.... already am what I am.
to be continued....
I am loving myself in a way that I didn't before. Finally understanding why I don't meet the standard of beauty in this country. My unwanted hair... is now, understandable. I Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaated my eyebrows as a kid. I thought I looked like oscar the grouch. They stayed hidden behind a thick crop of bangs. I think my mom didn't like my tall forehead.
And omg do a lot of Iranians have chin dimples! A lot of them do!!! It's crazy.
And then there was this. I thought about my bio dad. I don't know him, but I already know a lot of his story, just be knowing he is from Iran. And the story goes.... he came over as a refugee from religious persecution in Iran. He is of the Bahai faith. He didn't speak English. He needed money. An Iranian obgyn offered to pay him for sperm donation. And here I am.
But I cried. I cried for him. I cried for whatever he lost in Iran. I cry because of the hardships he must have faced in coming to the U.S. But then I stopped myself. He is not my father, why am I crying for him?
Then another feeling... a feeling of forgiveness.... a feeling of compassion for him. Before knowing him I was mad... I was angry at him... how could he not care... the doctor who was just doing his job, and my mom... no one thinking that this baby would grow up and want to know.
But I don't feel like that now that I know. Now that I know, I don't feel like that. I DID need to know. I am not angry anymore. I am not angry at him, or at anyone anymore. Now I feel thankfulness and gratefulness. It seems like a weird way to help someone. But I am thankful.
I have even found a great deal of relief from the pain of my social dad. Of being angry about not helping me on my journey. About how he treated me and raised me. But now I feel much more distanced from it. I can even find some respect and appreciation for the years that he did raise me and treat me okay.
So am I Persian? Can I call myself that..... next time, I want to talk about my intuition on the matter and how, in many, many ways.... already am what I am.
to be continued....