Here’s something that made my week: the fact that my friends want me to dress up as Bert for Halloween. My question is,
Which Persian girl puts on a unibrow, voluntarily?
I thought bad eyebrows were like bad noses, you get rid of them and deny deny deny you ever had one? Or is the UNI in now? Someone fill me in.
Anyway, my grandparents were in town for awhile, all the way from eeRAN, and aside from lots of lavashak and pistachios, they bring a suitcase full of “Naseehat” (guidance from elders).
The problem with that is, I hate NASEEHAT. I’m comfortable enough with my parents to stop them before they get ahead with all their ‘guidance’ lectures–’Dad, the decibel level of your voice annoys me‘. But with my grandparents, I can’t be so direct. I have to swallow my pride, and smile, and nod–as if I’m actually going to take what they say into consideration.
Do you see how immature and stubborn I am?
But, in my defense, as I’ve… aged… I’ve gotten better at identifiying the ‘GOOD Naseehat‘ from the ‘OBNOXIOUS Naseehat’. Especially now that I’m out on my own, with my own bills and finances and Adult-ness,
I know I can’t learn everything the hard way– cause if I do, it’ll end with bad credit, a mug shot, and an ‘I TOLD YOU SO’.
But of all the patronizing and guiding that comes from my elders, none is more annoying than my grandmother’s. Why? Because she sees me twice a year, but thinks she knows everything about me. She tries to psycho-analyze me, impose religion on me, or tell me I’m fat to motivate me to find a man. And on top of it all, she’s insanely sensitive, that the slightest lack of attention sends her crying or into a mood swing or a tantrum. I know I’m making her sound awful, but really… she’s the OG Big Mama Drama.
I swear I have a point, that was just backstory.
The other day my grandma was NASEEHAT-ing me on ‘relationships’. She told me that in Tehran, girls were starting to think it was UN-COOL to be a virgin, a sign of being ‘dehati‘ (villager). My grandma was absolutely disgusted that people were degrading virginity, “as if it was something to be ashamed of”….
And she looked at me, as if I was supposed to share this absolute disgust. I gave her the blank stare,
My grandma thinks i’m above those ‘trashy Tehrooni girls’. That I’m a proud virgin. And she thinks I’m waiting for Mr. Right to make me feel right enough to hand the jewel away.
Obviously I wasn’t going to break the bad news to her, but I also couldn’t be a blatant hypocrite. But it made me more sad than usual that her ‘Guidance Lecture” was so far off mark, that it felt like lying in court when she thought I was one thing– and I was actually the opposite.
Then it slowly dawned on me,
would my grandma ever know the real me?
Now, I know all of us live some sort of double-life. At 16, I was drinking and hiding it from my parents. At 20, it was boys. Now, its what I want for myself, how I think about situations, and how I view the world.
As you get older, the depth of that double life changes… and slowly two different people emerge.
I always thought that hiding the truth would protect the people I loved and who loved me.
But now the double life is no longer harmless and kinda thrilling. It’s just driven a bigger wedge between me and my elders. Their advice may be valuable, but for as long as I’m acting– its going to seem like words from a script. Written by someone else, for somebody else.
I know this is the way its always been done, and not everyone is BFFs with their grandma or other relatives. But I think I’ve been struggling to understand, whether it ends up that way or I make it that way?
What are the consequences to revealing my reality to those who love me?
Sorry guys, no resolution here. I’m still marinating on this food for thought… keep the suggestions coming though.
And, I think I’m down to do a Barney Costume,is that considered cockblocking myself?
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