OMID HEIDARI
Staff Writer
The most recent round of presidential debates brought to the forefront our nation’s struggle with Middle Eastern relations. Not only are we hesitant to sit at the same table of our enemies in order to lay the foundations for a road to peace, but many of us are still uncomfortable in daily interactions with people of Middle Eastern descent.
My father emigrated from Iran in 1979 in search of the American dream and trusting in the ideals that allow our country to flourish. He is a proud citizen of the United States, and he is just as “patriotic” as the next man. I am indebted to his journey, which gave me the chance to make a life in America.
Therefore, I speak as a person who is unashamed to be Iranian-American. But I also speak as a person who is intentionally pulled aside in airport security lines, even recently for special screening. I am a person who is occasionally labeled as suspicious, simply based on my name.
In a world where the words “Muslim” and “terrorist” are too often found within the same sentence, I speak out with a different perspective — not to pressure instantaneous change, but rather to encourage a reassessment of our perceptions. The American society’s lack of knowledge in regard to Middle Eastern culture and history perpetuates misunderstanding.
A few years ago, in a journey to my roots to meet family and come in contact with an entirely different way of life, I traveled with my father to Iran.
My previously conceived attitudes and opinions were left in the dust of the Iranian streets.
I have never encountered such a hospitable, genuine and giving culture. My family traveled sleepless nights on buses from around the country to see our faces.
I was given a bed in which to sleep, while my elderly uncles took the floor. Food was prepared without end in a spirit of love and service, and all possessions were shared. God was first in importance with devotion to family close behind.
Americans could learn from such a value system. The hospitality we experienced extended far beyond the boundaries of my close family.
It seemed that every citizen who could muster an English greeting would catch me on the street and shake my hand. Some people simply wanted to touch the hand of an American — as if the freedoms and joys of my country could be magically imparted through our brief connection. In fact, one man that I met in the market place simply said, “Thank you, American, for coming to our country. Please do not hate me, I am a nice man.”
I choose to be a proud citizen of this country, even in the face of harsh stereotypes. I choose to be a Christian with a Muslim background. I choose to be understanding in my approach to other nations, even if they have been labeled as evil. There is good in every society that cannot be overlooked and, daresay, wisdom that can be gleaned.
I can be ashamed of extremist Christians, just as they are ashamed of extremist Muslims. I am at times ashamed of my government’s leadership, just as Iranians are undoubtedly at times shamed of theirs. If both our governments’ leaders stood in the same room, stark differences would be apparent, and possibly, irreconcilable. And yet, if average Americans and Iranians stood in the same room, the similarities would be astounding.
Similarities yield understanding, understanding yields hope and hope will be our guide to peace.
Submitted 10-02-2008