Growing up in America with immigrant parents presents its own set of unique challenges. Now if your father is Iranian, you're in for a hell of a ride, albeit a fun one...
*Baba = Dad
*Joonam = My Dear/Life
6. He will bargain for anything. Anywhere.
Take, for example, back to school shopping. Going with my Baba was always more fun than going with my mom because he said 'yes' to everything. Unless it was a short skirt, but we'll get to that later. However, there was always one thing I dreaded about it...paying. While being rung up, my dad would smile and say, "So, these are half off, right?" The salesperson would laugh and say, "No, sorry sir." I would proceed to elbow him in the ribs, "Baba, stop." But, he'd continue. "Oh come on, you can give it to us with a discount." As he was bargaining, I was sweating and nervously surveying the scene around me, praying that none of my classmates were in the store. He'd say, "don't worry, baba joonam, they can give a discount." I would always try to reason with him, "Baba, this isn't a bazaar in Tehran, we can't haggle the salesperson at Express" (remember how cool it was to shop there?). Please stop." I have this shopping experience with him every time, and every time I tell him the same thing, never to any avail.
5. Bikinis are not encouraged.
I remember wearing my first bikini as a young lady, and I remember my dad looking at me like he had just seen a ghost.
"Baba joonam, don't you want to wear some more clothes?"
"Um, no, we're going to the beach. What else would I wear?
"You can wear one of those skirt bathing suits, or some shorts."
"Dad, this isn't 1950."
After some cajoling, he'd eventually let it go, and we'd hit the beach. To this day, we still have the same bikini conversation.
4. Come to think of it, skin baring outfits are generally discouraged.
It doesn't matter that I'm a grown woman, my dad still tries to convince me to not wear short skirts, or shorts in general. Short skirts being anything above the knee :/ Which reminds me of my brief stint as a cheerleader in high school. My dad came to one of the basketball games to watch me cheer. None of my guy friends talked to me, or even acknowledged my existence, for fear of an untimely death. After the game, and after performing some stunts with my squad, I excitedly asked my dad what he thought of the performance. "You were great, but I don't understand why you have to jump up and down in front of a bunch of boys while wearing a napkin. Can't you wear pants under the skirt?" Needless to say, I didn't try out next season.
3. If you are male (family not included) you are at an automatic disadvantage.
If you're male, and you come within 4 feet of an Iranian daughter, you run the risk of mysteriously disappearing. I've had so many male friends (just friends!) that have done everything from bringing flowers when they come over, to bottles of whiskey for my dad, and it just doesn't make a difference. Stand too close, and the Iranian dad will walk over and stand in between you two, even if you're in the middle of a conversation. And don't even THINK about putting your arm around us, even if it's for a picture. My sister and I can attest to this. I remember my dad calling me after seeing a picture of me on Facebook with a really good male friend of mine who had casually draped his arm around my shoulder in a picture.
"Baba joonam, why do you have a picture like this? What is this boy trying to do?"
"Huh? We're just taking a picture."
"But you'll give off the wrong impression."
"Baba, he's gay."
"That doesn't matter."
(slapping my forehead)
And it's not just him you have to worry about, it's every other Iranian dad friend that he has. They'll all help, no questions asked. "Asghar, I need you here in an hour. Bring a shovel, and a bottle of Johnnie Walker. Blue Label."
2. Speaking of which, he only drinks two kinds of alcoholic beverages: Johnnie Walker, and Heineken.
Survey the scene at an Iranian party, and you'll either see the Iranian dad with a green bottle, or a crystal glass. My family and I were in the Virgin Islands a few Summer's ago, and we hit the duty free shops on our way out. My dad couldn't believe how cheap the bottles of Johnnie Walker were, so he bought two cases. Six bottles in each case. Oh, and rum, can't forget the rum. I'm surprised Customs didn't arrest us for intent to sell and distribute. Glad we could break stereotypes, one case of whiskey at a time.
1. He has a conspiracy theory on everything.
Everything has an underlying reason, and nothing is what it seems. Now I must admit, growing up with this kind of critical eye made me more aware of things going on in the world, and how we shouldn't always believe everything that we are fed, but sometimes it just gets ridiculous. The outcome of a football game, steak not being cooked properly at a restaurant, the pump at the gas station not working, it's all a conspiracy. Everyone is out to get you, or take advantage of you, or wants your money. He even thinks politics are rigged! Can you believe that?!
All things considered, Iranian dad's are the BEST, and will do anything for their families. I love my Baba, even if his jokes are corny, and he thinks I should always wear pants.
