my country, part 1

For most of the school year, I've been tutoring an Iranian man. He's planning to move to Canada & needed someone to sit down & practice English with him. We have rather unstructured sessions, mostly just talking to each other about our differing cultures while I correct his English.

It took a surprising number of months for us to get around to talking directly about 9/11. He asked me where I was that day, & I was surprised by the amount of emotion that came out–tears in my eyes, stomach settling into a hard knot, mind telling me not to talk anymore. I realized that I had never been asked that; I hadn't even gone back to that day myself.

It had changed both of our lives so much.

My student, a PhD student studying cardiology, has rarely said "Iran." We have talked about each of our home countries extensively. When I ask about Iran, he tells me about his country. He defends Persia with a pride I have never used when speaking about the United States. I have never referred to the States as "my country." I have never felt an urgency when trying to express that the media image you see is not what I lived for the decades of my life.

At our last session, he showed me this video–an attempt to expose me to modern Tehran. An attempt to defend Iran, a country that has survived for millennia with Persian borders, to one American in hopes they'll pass it on or that he'll have done his part.

According to the 2000 U.S. Census, 338,266 Iranians lived in the U.S. Their number has continued to rise. I had never thought about the role of Iranians living in the States, whatever their citizenship status may be, & I was ashamed of the reason I found for this.

Most of us, myself included before this year, don't tend to separate Iran from the Middle East. If there is one thing I've learned this year, it is that a Persian does not want to be called an Arab. My student was deeply hurt that he could be confused with such a different culture, history & part of the world. "We are not the Arab world," he told me. Shaking his had that had sunk toward his check, he sighed. "We are not Arab."

So in honor of what I've learned of Iran this year, of the tragedy that we both share & of the unique, vibrant culture of Iran, I'm telling the Americans that I can–in an attempt to do my part as well.

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