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It's good to be gay!
Part 3: The Islamic government is looking for my ass and I mean literarily... they are looking for my ass. Give me political asylum!


November 18, 2005

Sohrab drove his Nissan Patrol to the Canadian embassy, blasting his new Reggaeton CD, cussing Tehran's traffic, swearing at pedestrians, coughing, chocking and cursing at his bad luck for being born in this county. His tight pants didn't help much since his testicals were crushed, blood circulation to his brain was cut off and his left leg was completely numb.

"I couldn't find a spot to park the car so I ended up parking it on a street about a kilometer from the fuckin' embassy," Sohrab said. "So, now I've got to walk in these tight pants and fruity outfit all the way back to the embassy."

Walking from his car to the embassy, Sohrab found himself repeatedly violated by male pedestrians ... slaps on the ass, groping, verbal abuse, whistling, pinching, prostate exams and a lot more. Easily distracted and jobless Iranian youth found Sohrab a good early morning source of entertainment.

Sohrab showed tremendous strength by letting it all go. Under normal circumstances Sohrab would have had the heads of his assailants stuffed with woodchips and attached to his living room walls.

This was actually a good lesson for Sohrab on how the other side lives. "You sometimes have to walk in their shoes before passing judgment," Sohrab said.

Sohrab made it to the embassy right on time for his appointment. He completed the application, dumped it inside a box and took a seat. All eyes were on Sohrab. It seemed that the embassy employees had never seen an Iranian man as openly and cheerfully gay as Sohrab.

Iranian gay men defy all laws of gayness. You never know who's gay or straight. Majority of Iranian gay men are married and have children. They are also overly mucho and excessively manly. You can never tell until it's too late. Your old buddy who assumes the position of your wingman at parties could be gay. Your next door neighbor's kid you wrestled with all your childhood could be gay. The butcher, banker, taxi driver, mullah, porter, mechanic, garbage man, policeman, fireman ... well you get the point. That's why I never turn my back against a fellow Iranian male especially those who are married and have children. Why take a chance?

Back to Sohrab ... as Sohrab sat there and nervously shook his leg like a sowing machine, an embassy employee stormed out of the restricted area in the back and made his way to Sohrab. He tapped Sohrab on the shoulder and asked him to come to the back.

This was highly unusual because the normal procedure calls for a quick check to make sure the application is completed correctly and a letter that basically states that the applicant should call back in two weeks for an update. Majority of applicants will be rejected and only those who are worth more than half a million dollars will be considered.

Sohrab followed the Canadian man to the back and took a seat in his neatly decorated and nicely arranged office. Sohrab's application was on the desk.

"I'm sorry, sir, " the man said. "But in your application you have requested political asylum! Do you understand what political asylum is?"

Sohrab went to work. It was now or never. This was do-or-die. Over six months of hard work had to payoff at this very moment. Sohrab was not going to step out of this cozy office without a visa.

"Well, sir ... as you can probably tell by my color coordinated outfit, my impeccably even sideburns, my sensually trimmed mustache, my perfectly symmetrical behind, my manicured nails and masterfully highlighted hair, I'm a happy man trapped in a gorgeous body. It's not my fault I'm beautiful. I would like to also point out that I happened to be a devout Bahai with impeccable credentials confirmed by the highest authorities in the Bahai community whom I shall not name for obvious security reasons. If there is one man in this godforsaken country that needs asylum, it's me. The Islamic government is looking for my ass and I mean literarily... they are looking for my ass. I'm a wanted man."

The embassy employee drank some water and cleared his throat. Being born and raised in a politically correct culture, the embassy man was not trained to handle such suggestive manners.

"But, sir ... I fail to see the urgency in your case. The city of Tehran is full of gay men. And they seem to be doing alright for the most part. What is the government's interest in you?"

Sohrab realized at that moment that this was going to be a tough sell. He also noticed that a simple oh-I'm-gay-so-get-me-out-of-here will not work in this place. He needed to think fast.

"Well, I'm not just any gay man. I'm actually the leader of a gang of unground gay men who do ... " Sohrab paused.

"What?" the man asked.

Sohrab was busted. He needed to pull something convincing out of his ass or this would be the end of his journey.

"... who do ... movies to provide entertainment for ... "

"For what?"

"Uh ... for my gay brothers in times of loneliness and solitude. It's my way of giving back to my community."

"Are you saying that you're a PORN STAR?"

"Not any porn star," Sohrab said. "I am the hottest Bahai gay porn star in the country and my work, which I take tremendous pride in, and is much-admired in Europe and Southeast Asia, has unfortunately landed in the hands of the Islamic government."

The man jumped out of his chair and took a step back from his desk. "This is highly unusual. I don't know what to tell you."

"You can tell me that your government will protect an aspiring artist who's most likely going to be killed for his work. You can tell me that your government will protect a passionate, hardworking, gay porn star who has no desire but to do good for his people. Imagine the headlines: your country once again will be the beacon of humanity. The gay community around the world will celebrate your values."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm afraid of!" the man said.

"All I have to say is ... if you let me out of here without a visa, I'll be found hanging from ropes and that will rest on your conscious for the rest of you life."

Sohrab started to bawl like a hungry enfant longing for his mother's milk, which was an interesting sight considering his manly size and muscular frame.

"Sir, please calm down. I'm sure you'll be fine. I don't believe that the Islamic government will go that far to punish you. Maybe a year or two of home arrest and a fine will do the trick."

"Are you kidding me?" Sohrab said. "You have no idea what I've done in those movies. It's hardcore, man... very, very, very hardcore. My bare buttocks are the symbol of Iranian gay pride. I have inserted objects in my ass the make ... "

"Ok, please ... you don't have to get graphic. I get the picture."

"No you don't get the picture. Get me my fuckin' visa or I'm gonna die!"

Sohrab jumped on the man's desk and started ripping his shirt off while screaming like a mad man. The man grabbed the application and ran out.

Sohrab was well aware that he had gone too far, but he had no choice. With his reputation crushed and no visa, he surly would have to move out of Tehran and disappear in a cave for the rest of his life.

Sohrab jumped off the desk and sat back on the chair. He was shirtless, looking like he was ready to jump on a stage and start pole dancing.

The man returned to his office with his supervisor who happened to be an older lady with thick prescription glasses. The lady supervisor glanced at Sohrab like she was looking a guy who was about to tryout for Cirque du Soliel.

"Sir, are you out of your mind?" she said.

"Yes I am. I'm out of my mind. Wouldn't you be if you were about to hang from a crane?"

"Sir, in order to receive political asylum from our government you need to present us with evidence which proves that your life is in danger."

"What evidence do you want? Look at me for god's sake. I'm walking evidence," Sohrab said.

"Sir, you need to show us why you'll be killed by the Iranian government. I can not grant you asylum without evidence."

" Evidence?"

"Yes, evidence."

"What exactly do you have in mind?" Sohrab asked.

"You need to show us at least one of your movies. If you claim to be who you are and you truly are a famous Iranian gay porn start with movies circulating around the country, then we might consider your request for asylum. Otherwise I'll personally deny your visa and I will make sure you're not allowed in this embassy again."

"Show you one of my movies?"


Shit! How the hell did he get himself into this? How could he present evidence like that? Why did he take it this far? What movie? From where? How?

Sohrab deliberated for a while and finally said what every rational man in his shoes would have said, "No problem. You want to see one of my movies? You got it." >>> To be continued
[Part 1] [Part 2]

For letters section
To Siamack Baniameri

Siamack Baniameri


Book of the day

Three volume box set of the Persian Book of Kings
Translated by Dick Davis

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