"My mother is Italian, and my father is Iranian. I was in second grade in 1980, at the height of the Iranian hostage crisis, when two classmates bullied me, claiming I was the granddaughter of the Ayatollah Khomeini. My vehement denials landed all three of us in the principal’s office. “Camel jockey” and “mud duck” were commonly hurled in my direction as I grew up. I am not Muslim, but I am of Middle Eastern heritage. And that made me a recipient of impolite comments about “where I belong”—i.e., not in the U.S.
I bought into the lies. At age 7, I soaked in all the hatred toward Muslims and Iranians. I rejected my father, his religion, and his culture. My father was hurt. He stopped trying to teach me Farsi. He didn’t drag
me to Persian New Year celebrations in Irvine. But he understood. " - Larissa Chiari-Keith
I remember when I first arrived in the US due to the different culture I was brought up in, the folks in town teased me and considered me "not right" and implied slight mental illness or simply being different. I was in a relationship of some kind with this girl in town. She once told me, “Everybody thinks I should be afraid of you, but I’m not.” The town's sheriff would take photographs of us and follow one or both of us in his vehicle. Eventually I caught her making love to an unidentified person. Shortly afterwards the sheriff also arrived and spotted me. I fled, leaving my scarf behind on the branch of a bush. My girlfriend disappeared under suspicious circumstances and was later found dead. Shunned by many, I was immediately considered the main suspect. While in the interrogation room, I was shown a white cloth, which the sheriff identified as the item used to strangle the girl. I denied that the girl and I were romantically involved. Locals vandalized o...
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