Firoozeh Dumas, in her memoir Funny in Farsi: A Memoir of Growing Up Iranian in America, presents a story I would highly recommend for anyone interested in learning the nature of coexistence. It's a unique book that is extremely and enlighteningly ethnically-centralized in its subject, and yet absolutely ethnically indifferent in its themes. It is the story of Dumas' life as a somewhat displaced individual, in a land where "displaced individuals" aren't supposed to exist. The collection of short anecdotes that comprise the book, tell of the exploits of she and her family in America as Iranian immigrants, trying to lead the lives of freedom and opportunity which they know the country can provide, while never losing, or even trying to lose, their identities as native-born Iranians. Its many stories, spanning around the first 30 years of the author's life, display the various emotions of loneliness, bewilderment, frustration, anger, safety, gratitude, jofulness, and all the others, that confront a foreigner in this land that can be both immeasurably kind, and intolerably cruel to what it does not know.
The predominant theme that runs throughout Dumas' stories, is the message for unity. That sounds general, but that's only because the author refers to it on the most general of levels. Behind almost all of the stories, one may find a message that speaks to the importance of family, of community, of ethnicity and country, but most of all, of the importance of togetherness on all levels of our lives, and beyond all restrictions or classifications.
Dumas' book is clearly centered around her culture as an Iranian. But she uses that to show us exactly why culture does not need to separate us. Her family, and its experiences, show us a side of immigrant families that most of us Americans never bother to look at, or as is often the case, never get a chance to look at, simply because our society never really provides he opportunity. This country has the nasty habit of suppressing the human side of people we don't like; or rather, there are some people who do not want to see the human side of those they do not know or understand, and therefore prevent the rest of us from creating understanding between ourselves and whoever this silenced group might be. It is an ugly habit, and one that is frequently pushed into our faces by Dumas' accounts.
But she is, importantly, never vengeful about it. She is at times, most justifiably, hurt by some of the cruelty she and her family encountered, especially when the Iranian Revolution turned them into "enemies" overnight. But she is never bitter or spiteful; this book is the farthest thing from a rant of self-martyrdom. Usually she is just sad about those who were shortsighted enough to be so cruel, and yet so uninformed. And even that is short-lived, for the majority of her storytelling is inspiringly optimistic about the nature of people and America.
I believe it is the purpose of her stories, to show us that it is entirely possible to live a unique life, and be different from the crowd, and be proud of what makes you different- be it race, or religion, or values, or even just looks- and still live in complete harmony with everyone else, and, indeed, realize that we are, at heart, not that different at all. Her story is one that teaches by example; and it shows the world that we do not have to discriminate against others, in order to define ourselves. If anything, accepting and keeping our differences can do nothing but make us stronger as a human race.
And, behind all that, this story shows us just what it means to truly value life, as it's given to us. Dumas, at the end of her book, remarks that it could be seen as unusual how, while most people write memoirs after a major accomplishment or event in their lives puts their name on the public radar, she wrote hers without any such event; her memoir centers, simply, on a fun, unique, and fulfilling- if unspectacular- life. And it's her point to prove to us that even the most unextraordinary existence, is something remarkable in itself. For as important as it is to dream big and live for our freedoms and blaze our own trails through the obstacles of an all-too-often limiting society... to forget that there is something inexplicably wonderful about a pure, simple, human life, is to disregard that most priceless gift of being able to live and love in this world; and if we're lucky, create our own story in one another's lives. ( )

I only have a handful of authors who if they wrote something, by default, I would go out of my way to find it and read it: Firoozeh is one of them. It's odd because she doesn't spark my imagination or fire up my brain ... she just enchants the heart.

Building short stories from her life and her family, she weaves a story and giving me a peek into an Iran that is not all desert, hardcore Muslim, and evil. ( )

I read this book while writing my own memoir, Red Eggs and Good Luck, which won the Mary Tanenbaum Award for creative nonfiction but has not but published in its entirety. ( )

This book was recommended to me years ago and I ignored the recommendation.

I'm so glad I did.

Let me explain.

Between the time that someone suggested that I would like this book and now, I had the opportunity to live in central California for 18 months. In that hot valley, there is a lovely sub-community of Persians. And I mean lovely. The food, the culture, the people all planted themselves firmly in my heart. They are so generous, so smart, and so deeply beautiful.

From them, I heard stories of the land that they had left. I learned small snippets of language and tradition. I tasted sooo much delicious food. And I came to see that there is much lacking in our American culture.

So, when I picked up this book, I found myself laughing... at the Americans. Because why wouldn't you? We are missing out on so much that they have.

Finally, I was reminded of the tragic fact that we have not progressed as a nation. Dumas included stories of what happened to them(threats, violence, job loss) during a period of tension between Iran and the US. Similarly, when I was in California, relations with Iran were at another low. My friends were also discriminated against in significant ways. Individuals with extensive experience in their field were forced to take entry-level jobs because there were no other places that would hire them. Men and women in their 40s had to start over again. And children were ignored and bullied.

Much is still the same now, almost 10 years later. My husband's prior job had him on a team that included a number of people from China, Korea, and Japan. All of them suffered some sort of public humiliation(not in the workplace, thankfully) as COVID19 began to spread and restrictions began to be imposed worldwide.

Our tendency to make scapegoats of others must stop. I believe that the only time discovering blame ever makes a significant difference is when we discover it in ourselves and take appropriate steps to fix ourselves. If the burden of our own accountability and responsibility is too heavy, shifting it to someone else never alleviates our pain---it only deepens the guilt we must sometime experience. Some things cannot be prevented despite any and all effort. Some things must simply be endured in the most charitable and patient ways that are available. And we would do well to remember that, in Christianity, the scapegoat is representative of the only person who could and did, out of love, take upon himself all the blame for those things that, legitimately, cannot be blamed on another human being. And he did this willingly, I might add. [I'll just leave my soapbox now]

Suffice it to say that I wholeheartedly recommend this book. But, perhaps, consider how we can change some of the bad stuff... before the next 10 years are over. ( )

A memoir of growing up Iranian in America.