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Inked Up and Thugged OUT

Hey joonjoons,

Hope you all had a wonderful weekend… full of hotties (non-creepers, please), booze (jk…kinda) and good friends.

Now let’s get started.

Growing up in the Persian community, we are all expected to conform to a certain mold.  Straight-A student, musically gifted, active on campus and in the community, etc.  BOOOORING– I practically fell asleep writing that.

Unfortunately, that’s not all.  

In addition to being the perfect student/kid, we have to look good too.  Looking “good” doesn’t mean we have to be beautiful because let’s be real– we are probably some of the ugliest kids when it comes to puberty.  But I mean, clean cut: no Justin Bieber haircut for the boys, and the girls should always look “neat-” nice clothing, brushed hair, think L.A. Persian girls with their constantly manicured hands, fancy haircuts (but not as extreme).

God forbid, we grow up and get an “edgy” haircut.  Disowned?  Absolutely.  Piercings? We all get our first hole in our ears by age 2, but anything beyond that? NOPE.  Tattoos? FIRED… GONE… EXCOMMUNICATED… NO LONGER PERSIAN.

I may be banned from my family, but AT LEAST I’m still “unique”

I never really fit in with the other Persian kids that ran in my parent’s circles.  I was always the outsider… the one who didn’t want to be a part of the gossip group (SHOCKING I know…) or the one who had NO intent to follow in the typical Persian career path (sorrydaddy). Personally, I think it was because they were all spoiled bitches who rode up and down in their HOUSE ELEVATORS but I’ll get to the point…

Not that this ever stopped my parents from trying to change me.  I always had to perform at the Persian get togethers- whether it was reciting a Hafez poem I didn’t understand or playing piano like I was some kind of amateur musician, when really- I probably just looked like some douchebag.  So come my 18th birthday, I decided to rebel in the most drastic way possible (and no, blow jobs didn’t cut it).  

I got a tattoo.   

I picked it out of the book at the tattoo parlor (very original) and decided to get it on my lower hip (second place prize for tramp stamp).  And I vowed to keep it a secret from my parents FOREVER.  Until one year… we took a family trip to sunny, beautiful, SWIMSUIT required, Mexico.

Coulda been worse Dad…

Throughout the trip, I made DAMN sure my swimsuit covered my tiny tattoo.  Then one day when I was chillin’ at the pool by myself, my dad snuck up behind me and YELLED, “FARRAH, WHAT IS THAT?!!?!?!?!?!?!” I quickly pulled my swimsuit up, said it was henna, and immediately dived into the pool to avoid the slap I could see coming toward my face.

At this point what’s done is done- what can he really do? …Besides leave my ass in Mexico for eternity.

He came up to me that night and said, “Farrah… if you ever want to get a tattoo again, you have to come talk to me first.”  SO OPEN-MINDED, RIGHT?! Then he continued, “You come talk to me… and I vill say NO.”

Um … so what’s the point?

Guess what Daddy :)  I have gotten two more tattoos since.  Horrified of the day that you will see them- but these tattoos actually MEAN something to me.  It is a symbol of my INDIVIDUALITY and I really don’t give a shit what any Persians want to say about it.  (except you… please don’t disown me).

#wisdom

Our culture requires us to be good, pure and marriage material.  We are defined by our culture the second we are born: MUST be successful, MUST cook, MUST MUST MUST MUST- shiiiit my HUSBAND IS GONNA COOK FOR ME.  jk- I’ll leave the harsh realizations my father will eventually face to a minimum… for now.  But why am I no longer deemed “marriage material” by my father or my grandmother just because I have several tattoos that aren’t even visible with clothes ON?!  I should only be considered “un-marriage-able” if I become a stripper (not happening) or look like this:

Heart attack waiting to happen

Let’s be honest.  The only “thing” my tattoos make me… is a THUG (in the most rewarding way possible).  And joonies- we are ALL thuggish in one way or another.  Whether its through our physical appearance- creative haircuts, body art, etc. or simply through our interests: books, astrology (lies), or even comic books.  Our interests define our individuality and we should never be reprimanded for what we like.

I’ll admit, I will never get a huge tattoo that can’t be covered with a t-shirt, but I will never regret the decisions I’ve made because they have all played an integral role in making me into the person I am today– and NEITHER SHOULD YOU.  

Should I be banned from ALL THINGS PERSIAN?!

sexandfessenjoon@gmail.com

FACEBOOK US

THUGLYFE,

Farrah فراه
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Comments

  1. Agree with some of the points you make here, except as someone who grew up in the west with Iranian parents, and went through trying to reconcile my own individuality with the expectations of my parents (and shaped by our culture), I can say that there definitely is a lot of merit to what our parents wished for us.

    I have come almost full-circle, to the realization that — for the most part — they were right.

    Also, recently, a very dear family member of mine has gotten into a lot of trouble by basically totally rejecting her “Persianness” and trying to fit in with what I consider now to be a pretty shallow and debased way of being. I can’t really go too deeply into it, but would be happy to talk to you about it off of this public forum if you are interested.

    There is a middle ground – but more importantly, there is a better ground. That ground is one of being totally at peace with who you are right *now* without embellishments that fade with time anyway, and that do little more than label you and put up barriers as opposed to openings.

    Thanks for this post, and great site BTW!

    • Thank you! And we definitely agree- there is always a middle ground when it comes to ANYTHING, no matter what background you’re from. Going overboard never has good (or healthy) results. Thanks for your support :)

      XOXO,

      S&f Team

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