Every day in the past few months, I have felt a little bit more American. Every day I watch as the Iranian and the American in my hyphenated identity slowly change places – American Iranian, American of Iranian descent; American.
Yesterday I watched, outside of the windows in a tall building. as a progression of Ethiopians slowly gathered for a party. New immigrants – there was something about the way the walked towards each other – the anxiousness.
They had put a lot of thought into how they dressed – you could tell by the way they held themselves; showing it off without being too obvious. I could really tell because that's what we were like 20 years ago, you and I – when we were simply Iranians.
That's what they were – just Ethiopian; no confusion and there I stand, blending in to the crowd more and more every day.
I watch Iranian TV in an attempt to connect – I feel as much connection when I flip over to the Spanish Univision.
Today I found out that Farhad died. I feel even less Iranian after the news. His music makes me think and by thinking it makes me cry and by making me cry it keeps more human and by keeping me more human it makes me want to remember instead of letting go.
I am really going to miss the time when music could make me cry. We are all going to miss the person who made the music that could make us cry. I am really going to miss when we were just Iranians.
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