Americanized: List 2

Gideon was my very first high school crush. The pages of my freshman-year diary are littered with his name. My love for him vacillated from one entry to another.

Other days, I knew my feelings would never be reciprocated and that it was my civic feminist duty to get over him.

I imagined that Gideon would proudly hold my hand through the halls of our high school and announce to his football player buddies that he was into me and that he wasn't going to hide it anymore. Those were the kinds of fantasies that monopolized my thoughts at night...and during the day...and in the morning...and at dusk.

That's when I had an epiphany: when my mom and aunts praised me for being hairless...they meant by Persian woman standards.

Believe it or not, plucking your eyebrows is considered a rite of passage for Iranian girls.

I'd already accepted that Persians cared the most about (1) family and (2) how extended family members perceived them. The latter splintered into a whole slew of issues.

My decorating aesthetic included a poster of the earth with the tagline "Save the Humans."

My bedroom perfectly encapsulated my personality. It said: Here's a girl who cares about the environment but also has an irreverent sense of humor.

I wasn't always the awkward and dorky girl. I am not too modest to admit that in sixth grade, I had serious game.

I was so self-assured that I wasn't biding my time, waiting for boys to ask me out. I was taking the bull by the horns.

Even though none of her genes had apparently been passed down to me, I felt like it gave me a certain cachet among my girlfriends to have the gorgeous mom.

So you can understand my mom's conundrum.

I'd be remiss not to add that she was also the type of mom who thought I looked beautiful no matter what, and regularly told me so.

But for anyone who's more familiar with the strict-foreign-parent archetype in popular culture, let's break down the stereotypes associated with Persian moms and dads.

I decided to make a note of that sacrifice so that I could reference it in my future poignant Oscar acceptance speech.

I belonged in a city with a constant stream of traffic noise, busy pedestrians, and musicians busking on the sidewalk.

— Stereotype 3 —

Iranian parents are conservative zealots.
Yes and no.

My parents also considered themselves atheists and raised us as such. They were both brought up Muslim but came to America as infidels.

Izzy McConnell wasn't one of my religious friends. She came from a family of bohemian hippies.

She was notoriously compulsive about keeping their home spotless, and yet every nook and cranny of their house was filled to the brim with tightly organized clutter.

She was notoriously compulsive about keeping their home spotless, and yet every nook and cranny of their house was filled to the brim with tightly organized clutter.

Izzy was not allowed to drink, under any circumstances, but Mrs. McConnell had no qualms about Izzy staying behind closed doors with her French-exchange-student boyfriend (a polar-opposite parenting style from my parents).

Some people thought Izzy dressed "weird," but I thought she was a trailblazer.

Not to generalize, but being OCD about manners isn't exactly considered a quintessential American trait.

There were also times I witnessed heated arguments between my friends and their moms that left me in a catatonic state.

Sally Field is widely considered one of the best actresses of our time, but she’s been persona non grata with Iranians after she starred in the overtly racist film Not Without My Daughter.

Sally Field is widely considered one of the best actresses of our time, but she’s been persona non grata with Iranians after she starred in the overtly racist film Not Without My Daughter.

In an age where "Just Say No" and DARE were the prevailing antidrug campaigns, my foreign parents didn't have much faith that either would deter young people...

I knew as a teen that my parents had gone to great lengths to give me a better life, and killing my brain cells didn't seem like the most thoughtful way to return the favor. In short, I was a prude.

But I didn't know how to ingratiate myself with the cool kids.

The above took place in what was essentially a storage closet where a small crew of us had been relegated to meet for a group assignment.

I knew my aversion...meant I had blown my only chance at being cool.

They were artsy misfits who dressed exclusively in concert tees and ragged flannels, and it was those brooding qualities that intrigued me more than the cookie-cutter athlete and cheerleader types.

Plus, if our application for a green card got denied, I wanted to revel in the perks of being an American teenager before the INS killed my vibe.

Note: This rationalization lacked accuracy...

It was time to put my straitlaced ways to rest.

My eyes were red and bleary.

Evan also wasn't shy about extolling the virtues...

But mostly my vices included chocolate and pints of Ben & Jerry's.

I didn't feel an iota of guilt for lying.