I'm Not a Terrorist, But I've Played One on TV by Maz Jobrani Read Free Book Online Page B

any further, I know thatany Iranians reading this right now are thinking: But Iranians ARE white! That is true. Iranians are ethnically white. The word “Iran” derives from the word “Aryan.” Our ancestors can be traced back to the Caucasus, so that makes us Caucasian—the original white people. Yes, Aryans were originally dark complexioned people with thick, hairy eyebrows. This is a point that many educated Iranians in the West insist on making. It’s for this reason that when the census comes out every ten years, Iranians continue to mark the box that reads “white” and move on with their lives. Based on the last census in 2010, there are about 300,000 Iranians in America. Based on my personal experiences in Westwood, California, there are at least 300,000 Iranians at most Persian weddings. There have been estimates of between 300,000 and 1.5 million Iranians in America. The reason for this wide discrepancy is that Iranians are not into filling out census forms. That’s because they want to lay low and avoid the government.
    â€œIf you tell deh government you’re here, den vhen deh next revolution comes dey vill know vhere to find you.”
    Many Iranians throw away census forms when they appear at their homes. If they do fill out the form, they try to be as vague as possible:
    Age: 0
    How many people live in your household? 0 or so
    Income: About 0
    Ethnic background? Vhite. Or Italian. Or whichever ethnicity is not currently making headlines.
    In the West, despite our Caucasian heritage, Iranians are seen as more brown than white. If you don’t believe me, try this test.Get an Iranian with a thick Persian accent and a unibrow and have him run up to the front of an airplane before the doors close for takeoff and tell the stewardess he doesn’t feel well and needs to get off the plane. No matter what, he has to insist that he needs to get off and he needs to make a big scene until they let him off. If the police don’t show up to arrest this man then I will give you your money back for this book.
    Recently, I was on a plane and a white American girl did this exact thing. No fuss was made. The crew let her off the plane, thanked her for almost flying that airline, and we took off. The passenger next to me asked, “Shouldn’t they stop the plane and remove any baggage that girl might have checked in? What if she had a bomb in her suitcase?” I smiled and replied, “Nah, she’s white. No bombs, but probably lots of mood stabilizers. We’ll be okay.” So brown equals terrorist and white equals one individual crackpot who just really wants to get off the plane.
    Growing up in Tiburon, there were so few Persians that if you ran into one it was an occasion for celebration. One time in high school I cut class with a baseball teammate who had the whitest name ever—good old American Mark—and we went to get a sandwich before the game. We ended up at a deli where the owners turned out to be Iranian. I could tell from the Persian accent that the old man behind the counter was a fellow countryman, but I decided to play it cool. I was trying to blend in and I didn’t want to remind Mark, or myself, that I was Iranian. The old man looked at my dark complexion and tilted his head.
    â€œVhere are you ferom, young man?” he asked in a thick accent.
    Trying to sound as American as possible, I responded, “Tiburon, dude.”
    â€œYes, but vhere are you ferom ferom?” This meant, “Don’t try to bullshit me, son. I know you’re a foreigner, just like me.”
    Still, I tried to be coy. “Oh, from from? Downtown Tiburon.”
    â€œYes, but vhere are you ferom ferom ferom?”
    The guy was relentless.
    â€œ From from from? You mean originally? Like where was I born?”
    Even White Mark leaned in for my reply. He knew the answer but was confused about why I was acting so evasive.
    â€œFine, I’m from