Living Free in America
By A. Shirvani
My family was a unique one in the country where I was born. My father was a musician, a journalist, an actor and a director. My mother aspired to be an actress and a singer. In a way, their goals and chosen professions made them pioneers in Iran, especially since their passion for the arts was not a popular notion in the 50's and the 60's.
I grew up wanting to be a Prima Ballerina, and eventually enrolled in the Iranian Ballet Academy at the age of 9.
But, in the 10th year of my life, everything changed. The year was 1979, and by the time it was over my homeland was set back hundreds of years into the Middle Ages. People turned on their own families and any and all expressions of individuality, modernization and growth were permanently banned and outlawed.
Life became hard, cold, dark, and terrifying for us. My father lost his job and his pension because he had been employed by the previous regime. It became very hard for us to make ends meet. My mother, who remembered the submissive primitive fundamentalist way of existence from her childhood, was determined to not have me experience the same fate. It became her crusade to find a way to get me out of Iran so that I could live freely and without limits and bars.
It took more than five years and countless sacrifices before she was finally able to realize that dream. During that time, we lived on small government food rations and endured the beginning years of the war between Iran and Iraq. To this day, when I hear emergency alarms, I am suddenly transported back into the body of that petrified twelve-year-old sitting on the cold school hallway floor, waiting and praying for the fighter planes to stop bombing the nearby sites.
It has been many years since those first days in the United States, and yet I still marvel at how much life has changed. I can still recall attending high school, not knowing a single word of English and struggling to get through it day by day. I can still remember the very first time I had those strange American foods such as Sloppy Joes and Grilled Cheese Sandwiches at my school's cafeteria. And I still remember my science teacher, Ms. Davis, who allowed me to spend every science class period reading my science book using a giant English/Persian dictionary I carried with me at all times. I think I read all of 50 pages by the time the semester was over. But it did not matter to Ms. Davis. All she wanted was for me to try to do my best. And I did.
Now, so many years later, I am starting yet another journey. I am a new immigration lawyer standing on the edge of my new profession, about to take my very first steps. It is all new, exciting and sometimes scary. But, when I become overwhelmed by all that still I need to do and learn, when I feel discouraged or frustrated by the seemingly never-ending job search or my realization of how much more there is to accomplish, I remember Ms. Davis and her belief in me and my abilities. I remember how far I have come and how much things have changed. And in that moment I find my faith in myself and my chosen path all over again. All I have to do is try my best, live free, without limits and bars, and my mother's long ago dream is once again realized.
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