Hello everyone,
For the first time in a while, I’m falling into a process and an inquiry that is so exciting to me, I just want to share every bit of it with you. It has to do with a sense of hollow emptiness that has followed me for a long time, and a process of seeing it, coming to terms with it. 1
But first, it is March 2018, which means in a few weeks will be the vernal Equinox, which is also the advent of the Persian New Year. This year, the start of the new year falls on Wednesday, March 21, which will be the first day of the year 1397. Nowruz is not only celebrated in Iran; it is celebrated across West and Central Asia, in Afghanistan, Azerbaijan, Iraq, Georgia, Kazakhstan, in former Soviet countries, in Kyrgyzstan, Turkey, Turkmenistan, and Tajikistan. It is an ancient, deeply rooted seasonal celebration that transcends modern nationalisms, and religious alliances. 2
I have not invested in Nowruz in my adult life. As soon as I moved out of my parents’ home, I stopped even really remembering Nowruz until March 21st would come around, people would mention in passing, “Oh, it’s the first day of Spring” and I would suddenly remember, shit, it’s Persian New Year. Shit, I did nothing. Shit, I totally forgot, as thought it doesn’t exist and doesn’t matter to me. And for many years it didn’t, or I didn’t know that it mattered.
Forgetfulness is not always a benign occurrence. I forgot because the external world did not endow my remembering with any value. I forgot because I was never surrounded or did not surround myself enough with other Iranians or Central/West Asians who would mirror me, remind me of the world I belonged to. I have been so fully assimilated.
This assimilation, even as I speak about it now, is deeply painful. I feel a wringing feeling in my throat. It is all wrong. I belong to something, I come from a world rich in celebrations, traditions and knowings. Why do I keep forgetting?
Forgetfulness is not always a benign occurrence.I forgot because the external world did notendow my remembering with any value.
But of course, it is not exactly my fault. It is a consequence of imperialism, white supremacy, racism and also of my need to survive life as a child of eight or nine suddenly jolted into life in North America. It has always been a matter of survival. For much of my childhood, I was encouraged by all the adults around me to assimilate – learn English well, erasing every hint of an accent, learn to make chocolate chip cookies, wear lots of denim, listen to rock and roll and hip hop. I was tasked with this labor and I accomplished it well. I was a good immigrant and I did just as I was told.
Fast forward a couple of decades.
What is this terrible feeling like I don’t know who I am, don’t really understand what I belong to? There is something missing. There is something amiss. The feeling is of knowing many things, having many experiences, but not being able to plug in anywhere, because the plug is missing.
It’s finally time for me to reclaim, to study, to grieve and make amends with this history. This is the process that I am currently invested in. There is really so much more to say, but I will start here, because I have to start somewhere.
1. So much credit is owed to Mollie Moorhead for her wisdom and her friendship. She is a large part of the reason I am doing this work.
2. http://nowruzcommission.org/