The plane ride from Vienna to Bucharest was a quick one. There were few people on board, and Mr. Tabrizian read the business section of the New York Times in silence the whole way. There was no mention of the night my father and I had spent in that Romanian […]
I hadn’t thought about my brother much since I’d left Iran. I assumed he’d found his own way. But one day, when I was on the phone with my folks back home, I asked to speak with him. “Your brother isn’t talking,” my father said. “To me?” “To anyone,” he […]
I didn’t expect that meeting Meha was going to keep me up at night, but it did. In my dreams, those days, I was always on a boat in the middle of a dark ocean, when a bigger boat, full of male guards, stopped mine to arrest me and take […]
I’m really good at ping pong. Or at least, I used to be. Lately, a lot of people have been beating me, again and again. I take it as a sign of my progress. Let me explain. When you are a homeless, undocumented immigrant, you need to be resourceful. Never […]
Marco was waiting for me outside Jivamukti Yoga Studios, leaning against a white Ferrari. He held the door for me and I got in. “Okay, yoga girl,” he said. “What do you feel like eating?” “I don’t care,” I said. “Let’s just drive.” This was our first date. Spring 1998. […]
It wasn’t easy to find the right Ali Mohamedian on Facebook. That name is about as common in Persian as “John Smith” is in English. But I was determined to make amends, after all these years. And to thank the man who was responsible for getting me out of Iran. […]
[Trigger warning: sexual abuse, violence to children] The box-like room was freezing-cold. It had no windows or decorations, aside from an old IBM computer on the desk in front of me. The space around me seemed to be closing in on me. Despite the icy temperature, I felt sweat dripping […]
I lived in a tent for a month. Not a refugee tent, though I am an immigrant from a war-torn country. But no, this was a dark-blue camping tent pitched in the middle of the living room, because I didn’t want to have anything to do with my boyfriend. And […]
I was so happy to find out that it was normal to have imaginary friends. I learned this information in my college Child Development class one day, when my professor spoke to us at length about the “boy” who kept him company when he was young. My professor was a […]
When I was a young girl, they called me maymoon-e konjkav, the Persian version of Curious George, because my favorite question was: Why? Not much has changed. My curiosity wasn’t always well received, however. At school, it got me whipped and suspended. As a young girl in Iran, I wanted […]
