Better: cheesier, stricter, overprotective, delusional
Enough with the sex, let’s talk some daddy issues.
I think all over the world the relationship a child has with their parents is a special one. And us Persian kids, well we got a REALLY special relationship, especially with our DADDYS.
Let me lay it out for you – the facts:
- Our dads grew up/were adults around the time of the REVOLUTION (if you think I mean American Revolution, you’re too
stupidwhite-washed for this blog)
- We’re not growing up where our dads grew up. Your dad can’t drive you over to where he made his first dollar, macked on girls, or even where he graduated high school
- You’re probably not meeting any of your dad’s old BROS/poker buddies, because they live in random parts of the world. So any insight into when your dad was an irresponsible, irrational, hormone driven youth= GONE
Why is this important? Because my childhood was MISERABLE (ok overexaggeration, I know.)
Now, Im going to talk about my dad (HOPEFULLY HE NEVER GOOGLES SEX and FESSENJOON).
My dad and I always had a special relationship, which is code for FUCKED UP. See, my dad’s a nice guy- to EVERYONE ELSE. When it comes to me, parenting ain’t a joke…sh!t’s serious. He wanted me to be a perfect adult, from when I was 5 years old.
EXAMPLE 1: When girls in ELEMENTARY SCHOOL wore platform skechers and bell bottoms (remember-spice girls?), I had to wear oxford shoes, and suspenders.
I’m not kidding. I looked something like this in Elementary school:
I know I’m not black, but the outfit comes pretty close. To all those readers who don’t believe me, I SINCERELY WISH I was kidding.
EXAMPLE 2: When I played Soccer, my dad would yell LOUDER THAN THE COACH from the sidelines.
In full Persian accent—infront of all those Caucasians- my dad would be screaming
“VAT ARE YOU DOING JUST E-STANDING DER?!”
“MOVE FOR DE BALL”
I had to BRIBE my dad to NOT come to my games.
EXAMPLE 3: In High School, my dad decided CHAPERONING school dances would be the best way to keep an eye on me. All those nice PTA moms would be at the dances in their ugly sweaters and MOM jeans offering alcohol free beverages, and then there stood my 6foot+ Dad in a corner looking WAY TOO Middle Eastern and suspicious.
Oh my father also liked to chaperone my mall trips—walking a few feet behind my friends and I while we would shop at CLAIRES. One day, I decided to walk into Victoria’s Secret to see if he would follow—lets just say I’M THE ONE who got dragged out. “Vat is this estuff anyvay, lets go home”
Even now, just out of spite, I own a lot of lingerie- even though there’s no one to wear it for.
EXAMPLE 4: Once I moved out of my house, my dad had no everyday control, so he decided to up his game. NOW, it was all about the LECTURES on how IRRESPONSIBLE I was, WHAT was I doing with my life? WHEN would I SETTLE DOWN with a good Persian boy?
WHEN WOULD I BE A GOOD RETURN ON INVESTMENT FOR MY DAD?
HMM, dad, if this blog is any indication- NEVER.
I know, that all of the things my dad did was because he cared. Trust me, I get that… But I’M SURE he wasn’t always so perfect.
At one point he was a baby too. Here’s proof:
Part of me feels for my dad- stuck in a country where EVERYTHING is foreign, it’s almost always going to be about NOSTALGIA: remembering what was, and a ‘golden age’ that I have no part of.
This is the cultural gap, that we share with our parents and especially if we’ve never been to the mother country, how can we really understand them? We can’t but it doesn’t help that they leave us out even more.
COME ON DAD—TELL ME ABOUT THAT FIRST JOINT YOU SMOKED (Grandpa already has). OR how you ALMOST got expelled in high school.
And ESPECIALLY, why, now you want to shove PERFECTION down my throat, when you got the chance to be an idealistic, naïve revolutionary in 1979?
Unfortunately, Irooni parents think parenting is best done through enforcing standards and hiding realities (kind of like Corporate America), but its actually more about EXAMPLE.
If we don’t hear about all the ways they fucked up, how can we get over own mistakes?
The truth is:
At the end of the day, I will probably never get over my daddy issues. Yes, this is baggage I carry TIL THE END OF TIME–but I will say this, I wear it proudly. I mean who else can say their Dad gave them BOY hair cuts and a 9:30pm CURFEW?
It’s all some kind of love.
p.s I know you all of have embarrassing PERSIAN DAD stories, so no excuse why the inbox should not be FILLED: