Unfortunately, the Iranian government has invested its time and resources in creating a cartoon series aimed at increasing fear and anti-semitism in the minds of young people. See an excerpt of this new series thanks the Middle East Research Institute's TV Monitor project:
http://www.memritv.org/clip/en/1715.htm
Showing posts with label Jewish and Persian Children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jewish and Persian Children. Show all posts
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Diva Dolls Make Their Hollywood Debut
The Jewish Daily Forward. (http://www.forward.com/articles/11283/) 08/03/07
Over the past six years, Barbie, now 48, has been given a run for her money. The blond-haired, blue-eyed doll with impossible proportions has had to compete with Bratz, a collection of multicultural tweens with such names as Sasha and Jade. The impetus behind these dolls is an Iranian Jew by the name of Jasmin Larian whose father, Isaac, owns the company that puts out the line.
In 2000, Larian had a toy designer come over and present him with a few sketches. He was repulsed. To him, the oversized heads, bug eyes and short bodies — standard characteristics of the line — seemed awkward. But to his daughter Jasmin, then 11, the image was most certainly lovable. Six years later, Bratz — made up of Sasha, Jade, Yasmin and Cloe, all ambiguously multicultural — rival Barbie in toy sales, selling more than 100 million.
Now, Bratz’s popularity has culminated in a live-action film — set for release today — based on the dolls. In it, the character Yasmin, named after Jasmin, is a Hispanic Jewish teen living in Los Angeles, fully equipped with a bubbe played by Lainie Kazan.
For the film, Kazan, who is of mixed Ashkenazic and Sephardic heritage and is a grandmother in reality, said she used herself as inspiration.
“I did it with a Spanish accent, but with a little Yiddish thrown in,” she told The Shmooze.
As the only grandmother in the film, she is a source of comfort and wisdom for the teen characters.
Initially, Kazan was weary of the effect that the dolls, with their pouty lips and heavily lined eyes, would have on girls. “At first I wasn’t too happy about Bratz dolls; I thought the girls looked a little cheap. But this film has taken the image and turned it around.”
Kazan said that above all, the movie is quite moral, and pushes friendship, acceptance and the importance of embracing people from all backgrounds — no matter how different they look from Barbie.
Over the past six years, Barbie, now 48, has been given a run for her money. The blond-haired, blue-eyed doll with impossible proportions has had to compete with Bratz, a collection of multicultural tweens with such names as Sasha and Jade. The impetus behind these dolls is an Iranian Jew by the name of Jasmin Larian whose father, Isaac, owns the company that puts out the line.
In 2000, Larian had a toy designer come over and present him with a few sketches. He was repulsed. To him, the oversized heads, bug eyes and short bodies — standard characteristics of the line — seemed awkward. But to his daughter Jasmin, then 11, the image was most certainly lovable. Six years later, Bratz — made up of Sasha, Jade, Yasmin and Cloe, all ambiguously multicultural — rival Barbie in toy sales, selling more than 100 million.
Now, Bratz’s popularity has culminated in a live-action film — set for release today — based on the dolls. In it, the character Yasmin, named after Jasmin, is a Hispanic Jewish teen living in Los Angeles, fully equipped with a bubbe played by Lainie Kazan.
For the film, Kazan, who is of mixed Ashkenazic and Sephardic heritage and is a grandmother in reality, said she used herself as inspiration.
“I did it with a Spanish accent, but with a little Yiddish thrown in,” she told The Shmooze.
As the only grandmother in the film, she is a source of comfort and wisdom for the teen characters.
Initially, Kazan was weary of the effect that the dolls, with their pouty lips and heavily lined eyes, would have on girls. “At first I wasn’t too happy about Bratz dolls; I thought the girls looked a little cheap. But this film has taken the image and turned it around.”
Kazan said that above all, the movie is quite moral, and pushes friendship, acceptance and the importance of embracing people from all backgrounds — no matter how different they look from Barbie.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Born Without A Name
Interfaithfamily.com. Growing Up in an Interfaith Family
Issue 212: July 10, 2007
(http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297382&ct=4063597&tr=y&auid=2826038)
Tiffany Collins
In 1976, I was born without a name. I continued to be nameless for two weeks because my parents could not agree on one. At the time they may not have understood the source of their problems, but today, I know with certainty that it was due to their cultural differences. They finally agreed on the name Tiffany, which they chose in reference to a friend's daughter. I've never really felt like a Tiffany. As the child of an Ashkenazi (of Eastern European origin) Israeli Jew and Iranian non-practicing Shi'a Muslim, I never quite felt my name reflected my spirit.
Prior to my birth, my parents decided that I would be raised Jewish. I often consider myself lucky that my mother is Jewish and my father Muslim. This combination automatically gave me the choice of being either of these religions: in Orthodox and Conservative circles of Judaism the religion is inherited through the mother, and in Islam, through the father. Nevertheless, I was thankful my parents chose my religion for me. I was Jewish. It kept things clear.
Yes, I have suffered ignorance and pettiness by those people who can't understand how my parents could marry out of their faith. But, truly, more difficult than the religious difference has been the socio-political divide between Israelis and Iranians. In a world where politics has become infused with religion, choosing "a side" almost feels like an issue of safety--as if a hypothetical voice would whisper to me when I was alone, If a war breaks out between Jews and Muslims, whose side would you stand with?
I did not grow up in a religious home. To my parents, who met and fell in love in the liberal and exploratory university environment of California in the '70s, traditions had more merit than religion. My parents, both quite independent in nature and enjoying their cultural similarities, never really pondered how more conservative members of their individual faiths might view their union.
My fondest childhood memories paint a picture of my double life.
My favorite Jewish moments came from Shabbat (Sabbath) songs at Jewish summer camps and annual trips to Israel to see my extended family, which spoke Hebrew, Yiddish and Russian, and ate borscht! Those who could, spoke to me in English. Those who couldn't, spoke to me in Hebrew and Yiddish. To me, Judaism was Mediterranean beaches, Passover singing, and everyone treating me like family.
My favorite Persian moments were weekends at my paternal grandmother's house in the United States, where we would savor saffron-infused rice, potato taddik (fried rice and potato crust) and kabobs. Islam was warm kitchens, people dancing and singing to Middle Eastern music, polite social gestures, family respect for hierarchies and colorful holidays. At these gatherings everyone would speak to me in Farsi, and say hello with cheek-to-cheek kisses.
But as I aged, the hidden religious symbols became more evident.
My father and his immediate community in the San Francisco Bay Area came from a pre-revolutionary Iran where culture took precedence over religion. In 1979, this community's identity was transformed by the Islamic Revolution. The transformation of their country from a seemingly secular state to a religiously orthodox one left them feeling stateless. I, too, took on the identity of a refugee; this model world that they were raising me in, in which being both Persian and Jewish was safe and accepted, no longer existed, if it ever had. There was no Iran to which I could go back as a part-Israeli Jew to find my roots.
As I got older, my religious identity became more confusing. Moments like when my Persian grandmother would bless me with her Koran as she sent me off to a trip to Israel come to mind. My religious identity came under the greatest scrutiny when my parents divorced when I was 9. No longer bound by the compromises of interfaith marriage, my parents naturally migrated back toward their origins. My father, especially, became more and more attracted to his homeland. He began taking me to Persian concerts, speaking to me in Farsi and courting a Persian woman. Hitting my teenage years, insecurities due to not fitting the standard religious mold took their toll.
At 15, I made a radical decision that would change my life. After spending the summer with my family and friends in Israel, I announced to my parents that I absolutely had to live in Israel. Looking back, it's quite obvious to me that my decision was based on an extreme thirst to connect with an identity, and I had been given a Jewish one. I went to a French boarding school in Jerusalem where most of the students were of Sephardic (descendents of the Spanish and Portuguese Jews) origin and from more Orthodox branches of Judaism. The nationally mandated Zionist curriculum infused our day-to-day experiences. The following three years in that boarding school were a time of religious awakening for me. I became immersed in Jewish life. I felt at home among the Sephardic Jews. Their culture brought together elements of my Jewish and Persian cultures more than the traditional Ashkenazi culture I had become accustomed to in the U.S.
The only problem was that I didn't want anyone in the school to know I was different. My strategy of pretending to be just like everyone else came to a crossroads in my second year in that school (eleventh grade), when my father decided to move back to Iran to settle old family financial matters. How could I explain having a father who lives in Iran to my Jewish friends in Israel? I ended up sharing this information with only my closest friends, who took it quite well. But of course, I lived in Israel in the early '90s when the hope for peace in the region was still quite alive.
I wondered how I could talk to my father about such things as wanting to join the army to serve the Jewish homeland. In Israel, everyone goes into the army when they turn 18. It's not a political statement; it's an expected step on the way to adulthood. It turned out that my father preferred not to discuss such matters. He felt that just mentioning the topic could be dangerous to him within the Persian community and Iran. At the time my feelings were hurt as I felt he was embarrassed by his Jewish daughter. Now, with a more mature understanding of the politics of the Iranian regime, I understand that his concerns were legitimately connected to his personal safety. Also upsetting was the fact that I could never visit my father in Iran given my Israeli connections. In those years of living in Israel, I became quite religious. Somewhere deep inside, I felt a need to know as much as possible to compensate for not having a Jewish father.
After five years in Israel, I decided to come back to the U.S. Attending university enabled me to gain the maturity and cognitive skills necessary to create my own identity. I re-connected with my Persian side after years of pretending to be a purebred in Israel. I realized that being Jewish and practicing Jewish traditions were my birthright and no one could take that away from me. The ability to combine my newfound analytical skills with my solid knowledge of Judaism gave me a great sense of empowerment, enabling me to create my own personal religious practices and cultural traditions.
The day I finally felt liberated was my wedding day. I hand-picked every tradition, color, and rite that was to carry me into my future life. I chose a ketubah (Jewish wedding contract) with a Persian design created by a local artist. I held two weddings, a secular Persian one with religious symbols, at which my aspiring-actor cousin married us against a backdrop of Persian wedding motifs, sweets and festivities; and a Jewish one that had everything from Israeli live music to a chuppah (Jewish wedding canopy) held by my best friends.
I did not marry a Jewish man. My husband is part-Japanese Buddhist, part-American Baptist--a hybrid, just like me. We've had many cultural elements to subsume into our life as a couple, yet our respect for multiculturalism has prevailed. Before marrying, my husband asked me if he should convert to Judaism. I said no, because I felt that this is something that he should want to do for himself, not just to satisfy me. I did tell him, though, that I would need his consent to raise our children as Jews.
We now have a beautiful little boy named Raphael who has been circumcised. He's learning French, Hebrew, Farsi and Japanese. We take a Shabbat class together at the Jewish community center. My husband and son have both been to Israel. While we're not your typical Jewish family, we are Jewish nonetheless. The last time my husband flew back from Israel, separately from me, the security guards on the flight asked him if he was Jewish. He said, "Yes, by marriage." The guard responded, "That's not exactly the same, is it?"
Being Jewish and multicultural is not always easy. Not everyone accepts our way. I've had close friends from high school lecture my husband on how he must convert. But ultimately, that's not my immediate community or the people I seek to learn from. In creating my own traditions, I have combined the histories and stories of Persians and Jews to give richness to my life--discovering how to learn from the practices of others and adapt them as my own.
Issue 212: July 10, 2007
(http://www.interfaithfamily.com/site/apps/nl/content2.asp?c=ekLSK5MLIrG&b=297382&ct=4063597&tr=y&auid=2826038)
Tiffany Collins
In 1976, I was born without a name. I continued to be nameless for two weeks because my parents could not agree on one. At the time they may not have understood the source of their problems, but today, I know with certainty that it was due to their cultural differences. They finally agreed on the name Tiffany, which they chose in reference to a friend's daughter. I've never really felt like a Tiffany. As the child of an Ashkenazi (of Eastern European origin) Israeli Jew and Iranian non-practicing Shi'a Muslim, I never quite felt my name reflected my spirit.
Prior to my birth, my parents decided that I would be raised Jewish. I often consider myself lucky that my mother is Jewish and my father Muslim. This combination automatically gave me the choice of being either of these religions: in Orthodox and Conservative circles of Judaism the religion is inherited through the mother, and in Islam, through the father. Nevertheless, I was thankful my parents chose my religion for me. I was Jewish. It kept things clear.
Yes, I have suffered ignorance and pettiness by those people who can't understand how my parents could marry out of their faith. But, truly, more difficult than the religious difference has been the socio-political divide between Israelis and Iranians. In a world where politics has become infused with religion, choosing "a side" almost feels like an issue of safety--as if a hypothetical voice would whisper to me when I was alone, If a war breaks out between Jews and Muslims, whose side would you stand with?
I did not grow up in a religious home. To my parents, who met and fell in love in the liberal and exploratory university environment of California in the '70s, traditions had more merit than religion. My parents, both quite independent in nature and enjoying their cultural similarities, never really pondered how more conservative members of their individual faiths might view their union.
My fondest childhood memories paint a picture of my double life.
My favorite Jewish moments came from Shabbat (Sabbath) songs at Jewish summer camps and annual trips to Israel to see my extended family, which spoke Hebrew, Yiddish and Russian, and ate borscht! Those who could, spoke to me in English. Those who couldn't, spoke to me in Hebrew and Yiddish. To me, Judaism was Mediterranean beaches, Passover singing, and everyone treating me like family.
My favorite Persian moments were weekends at my paternal grandmother's house in the United States, where we would savor saffron-infused rice, potato taddik (fried rice and potato crust) and kabobs. Islam was warm kitchens, people dancing and singing to Middle Eastern music, polite social gestures, family respect for hierarchies and colorful holidays. At these gatherings everyone would speak to me in Farsi, and say hello with cheek-to-cheek kisses.
But as I aged, the hidden religious symbols became more evident.
My father and his immediate community in the San Francisco Bay Area came from a pre-revolutionary Iran where culture took precedence over religion. In 1979, this community's identity was transformed by the Islamic Revolution. The transformation of their country from a seemingly secular state to a religiously orthodox one left them feeling stateless. I, too, took on the identity of a refugee; this model world that they were raising me in, in which being both Persian and Jewish was safe and accepted, no longer existed, if it ever had. There was no Iran to which I could go back as a part-Israeli Jew to find my roots.
As I got older, my religious identity became more confusing. Moments like when my Persian grandmother would bless me with her Koran as she sent me off to a trip to Israel come to mind. My religious identity came under the greatest scrutiny when my parents divorced when I was 9. No longer bound by the compromises of interfaith marriage, my parents naturally migrated back toward their origins. My father, especially, became more and more attracted to his homeland. He began taking me to Persian concerts, speaking to me in Farsi and courting a Persian woman. Hitting my teenage years, insecurities due to not fitting the standard religious mold took their toll.
At 15, I made a radical decision that would change my life. After spending the summer with my family and friends in Israel, I announced to my parents that I absolutely had to live in Israel. Looking back, it's quite obvious to me that my decision was based on an extreme thirst to connect with an identity, and I had been given a Jewish one. I went to a French boarding school in Jerusalem where most of the students were of Sephardic (descendents of the Spanish and Portuguese Jews) origin and from more Orthodox branches of Judaism. The nationally mandated Zionist curriculum infused our day-to-day experiences. The following three years in that boarding school were a time of religious awakening for me. I became immersed in Jewish life. I felt at home among the Sephardic Jews. Their culture brought together elements of my Jewish and Persian cultures more than the traditional Ashkenazi culture I had become accustomed to in the U.S.
The only problem was that I didn't want anyone in the school to know I was different. My strategy of pretending to be just like everyone else came to a crossroads in my second year in that school (eleventh grade), when my father decided to move back to Iran to settle old family financial matters. How could I explain having a father who lives in Iran to my Jewish friends in Israel? I ended up sharing this information with only my closest friends, who took it quite well. But of course, I lived in Israel in the early '90s when the hope for peace in the region was still quite alive.
I wondered how I could talk to my father about such things as wanting to join the army to serve the Jewish homeland. In Israel, everyone goes into the army when they turn 18. It's not a political statement; it's an expected step on the way to adulthood. It turned out that my father preferred not to discuss such matters. He felt that just mentioning the topic could be dangerous to him within the Persian community and Iran. At the time my feelings were hurt as I felt he was embarrassed by his Jewish daughter. Now, with a more mature understanding of the politics of the Iranian regime, I understand that his concerns were legitimately connected to his personal safety. Also upsetting was the fact that I could never visit my father in Iran given my Israeli connections. In those years of living in Israel, I became quite religious. Somewhere deep inside, I felt a need to know as much as possible to compensate for not having a Jewish father.
After five years in Israel, I decided to come back to the U.S. Attending university enabled me to gain the maturity and cognitive skills necessary to create my own identity. I re-connected with my Persian side after years of pretending to be a purebred in Israel. I realized that being Jewish and practicing Jewish traditions were my birthright and no one could take that away from me. The ability to combine my newfound analytical skills with my solid knowledge of Judaism gave me a great sense of empowerment, enabling me to create my own personal religious practices and cultural traditions.
The day I finally felt liberated was my wedding day. I hand-picked every tradition, color, and rite that was to carry me into my future life. I chose a ketubah (Jewish wedding contract) with a Persian design created by a local artist. I held two weddings, a secular Persian one with religious symbols, at which my aspiring-actor cousin married us against a backdrop of Persian wedding motifs, sweets and festivities; and a Jewish one that had everything from Israeli live music to a chuppah (Jewish wedding canopy) held by my best friends.
I did not marry a Jewish man. My husband is part-Japanese Buddhist, part-American Baptist--a hybrid, just like me. We've had many cultural elements to subsume into our life as a couple, yet our respect for multiculturalism has prevailed. Before marrying, my husband asked me if he should convert to Judaism. I said no, because I felt that this is something that he should want to do for himself, not just to satisfy me. I did tell him, though, that I would need his consent to raise our children as Jews.
We now have a beautiful little boy named Raphael who has been circumcised. He's learning French, Hebrew, Farsi and Japanese. We take a Shabbat class together at the Jewish community center. My husband and son have both been to Israel. While we're not your typical Jewish family, we are Jewish nonetheless. The last time my husband flew back from Israel, separately from me, the security guards on the flight asked him if he was Jewish. He said, "Yes, by marriage." The guard responded, "That's not exactly the same, is it?"
Being Jewish and multicultural is not always easy. Not everyone accepts our way. I've had close friends from high school lecture my husband on how he must convert. But ultimately, that's not my immediate community or the people I seek to learn from. In creating my own traditions, I have combined the histories and stories of Persians and Jews to give richness to my life--discovering how to learn from the practices of others and adapt them as my own.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Iranian Children's Show. The Jews Equal the Evil Queen
Middle East Media Research Institute. Iranian Children's Show Villainizes Jews:
http://www.memritv.org/Search.asp?ACT=S9&P1=1329#
http://www.memritv.org/Search.asp?ACT=S9&P1=1329#
Monday, June 25, 2007
The Dating Game
An anthology prepared by students in Professor Gissler's 2001 seminar
Shandray Mehdian
(http://www.jrn.columbia.edu/studentwork/race/2001/date_mehdian.shtml)
Accessed 06/ 25/2007)
It was not a typical teen-age fight over a girl. The outraged student at Great Neck North High School in suburban Long Island was defending the honor of his Jewish-Iranian sister who had been smeared by what he deemed a vicious rumor. She had been accused of dating an American boy.
To the Jewish-Iranian community, the rumor was double trouble. Any form of dating by teen-age girls is prohibited, and dating outside the faith deepens the disgrace. At stake is the family's reputation and the girl's chance for marriage. So the brother punched out the Jewish-Iranian student who had spread the false tale - and was suspended for two days.
"My best friend went crazy," Sasha, an 18-year-old senior, said of the fist swinger. Like many other Jewish-Iranian students, Sasha asked that only his first name be used.
However, schools officials familiar with the Jewish-Iranian community, were not shocked by the fight. "For a girl to be seen with someone, or even a rumor about her, can get brothers and fathers excited," said Angelo Sabatelli, assistant principal at Great Neck North. "Because then the marriage proposal is gone. Now everyone thinks she is not pure."
Though the fight was unusual , the issue of dating plagues many of the Jewish-Iranian teens at Great Neck North, which has a 38 per cent Iranian student population, most of them Jewish. Not only does the strict bar against girls dating or socializing with the opposite sex collide with American popular culture, but the rule, under Jewish-Iranian tradition, also exempts boys who are free to date any and all girls - a double standard that sometimes creates puzzlement and resentment among Jewish-Iranian girls.
The remarkable situation at Great Neck North can be traced to the 1978-79 revolution in Iran. Waves of Jewish Iranian immigrants fled to the United States, finding new homes all over the country, with the largest populations in New York and southern California. In Great Neck alone, Jewish Iranians estimate that there are nearly 3,500 families. With so many families packed into a small town of about 37,000, they say, a close-knit subculture inevitably emerges and defense of family integrity - and particularly the reputation of young women - becomes crucial.
In the Jewish-Iranian culture, women uphold the values and virtues of the community. When it comes to dating and socializing with the opposite sex, women must abide by the strictest standards and remain a symbol of purity. Thus "casual" dating by females, with no intention of marriage, or dating outside the community is out of the question, said Shanaz Goldman, a social worker at Great Neck North since 1994. "I have not yet met a Jewish-Iranian mother who'd feel comfortable with her daughter having an American boyfriend," said Goldman, also a member of the Pupil Personnel, a group of psychologists, social workers and mental health professionals.
Usually, the slightest deviance can mar the reputation of a young woman and her family's integrity. "God forbid that a girl have a bad name in the society," Goldman said. "Her prospects of finding a mate will be doomed."
On the other hand, the opposite is true of Jewish Iranian boys. Not only are they expected to date at an early age, but they are encouraged to date non-Iranian women. "Boys can do whatever the girl cannot," Goldman said. "Parents will encourage him to have a girlfriend - it's like a badge of honor."
Sabatelli agreed. "While Iranian girls are not permitted to date, Iranian boys are encouraged to 'have fun,'" he said. "The boys are not discouraged from dating the American girls." Sabatelli, who has been at the high school for 20 years, says 60 per cent of the Jewish-Iranian male seniors are dating non-Iranian females. "But you'll never see an Iranian girl holding hands with another boy," he said. "You just don't see it -- not even at the prom."
Though the double standard is deeply rooted in the traditional Iranian culture, Sabatelli, who has studied European and Middle Eastern history, feels it has also become a "macho thing" among the high school boys at Great Neck North to date American girls.
According to Goldman, who puts on parenting workshops for adults throughout the academic year, several factors explain the double standard. First is the influence of the Islamic culture that, some critics say, dictates the second-class status of women. "The woman's job was to be subservient," Goldman said. "She had to stay home and take care of the children." In present day Iran women must still wear the traditional head covering, the chador, and are forbidden to ride bicycles in public parks and streets.
A second factor is class, Goldman said. In Iran, a country based on a class system, the upper echelon could afford to send their male children abroad for education. Thus the men had greater opportunities and freedom to mingle with Western women.
A third factor, according to Goldman, is the fact that Jews in Iran were a minority and consequently adhered more to their cultural ways. Most considered pre-marital sex and intimacy unacceptable, as stipulated by Jewish laws and mores. Here in America, Jewish Iranians again represent a minority community. "But because mainstream American culture is so different, some values are played out more strongly than they were in the homeland and adhered to with greater tenacity," Goldman said.
In Iran this system seemed to work well, observers say. But America is a different story, especially for the new generation of youth born and reared in a culture so different from that of the older generation.
"If their culture means that much to them, that's great," said Jessica, a junior who has been in the Great Neck public school system since elementary school. "But I think it's overdone a little." Jessica says she comes from a Jewish-Iranian family that is more open-minded but she must still marry only a Jewish-Iranian male.
Jessica said her parents, who "love each other to death" and who have been together for 25 years, met each other in Iran and were married six days later. Those sorts of marriages were common in Iran 20 or 30 years ago.
But now times are different. And tension and conflict arise when the older generation demands to uphold the traditional values of the Jewish-Iranian culture and their first- generation children wish to follow the ways of their non-Iranian peers. And in no other area does this tension surface more clearly than when it comes to dating and socializing. At times Jessica feels confused. "Iranian girls aren't supposed to date until they want to get married," she said. "But how will you gain dating experience for marriage when you haven't had any relationships?"
As for the double standard, Jessica thinks it's wrong for parents to impose a set of strict standards for one child and not for the other. "It's so annoying," she said. "My brother was allowed to do everything at my age - had no curfews and about a hundred girlfriends. If I had one boyfriend my parents would say 'what's going on?'"
"There's definitely, definitely a double standard," Goldman said. "All these girls want is to have a normal adolescent life. But their parents are so fearful that they place restrictions on behavior. They have limits on their freedom-no sleepovers, no camps, early curfews, and no unchaperoned parties."
What sometimes happens, said Goldman, herself a mother of three, is that the children who face restrictions without any knowledge of their culture or understanding of their values, end up with resentment, fear and anathema. "Those are the ones who hate the culture, who don't like to speak Farsi, or be called Iranians," Goldman said. "They have no sense of identity with the culture."
On the other hand, Goldman argues that the Jewish-Iranian children who "embrace their heritage" and have a good sense of their culture and where they come from are more accepting of their parent's values.
"All the kids my age are still living in that mentality, in the shadow of their parents," Jessica said. "And as long as that happens, it's never going to end." But after a moment's thought, Jessica modified her conclusion: "It's stressful, but it works out well in the end because it leans towards a more disciplined life."
Mark, a 16-year-old Jewish-Iranian student with spiked hair, has no problem with the double standard. "It's better for Iranian girls to be like that," he said. "When an Iranian guy is ready to get married he's not going to look for the girl who's been dating ever since she was a teen-ager." Sabatelli explained it further. "When it comes to marriage, the boys know they must marry a 'nice, Iranian girl,'" he said. "The parents want to hold on to those values to ensure that their daughter or son marry within the Iranian culture."
"The young boys want to marry someone pure," Goldman said. "That's what's been ingrained in them."
Mark said his sister didn't date until she was ready for marriage. He estimates that at Great Neck North 15 per cent of Iranian girls date casually but 75 per cent would do it "if they could."
So are there any signs of change in how Jewish-Iranian traditions play out at Great Neck North? Yes and no, say students and school officials. While basic values remain in tact and dating is restricted, "girls and guys can hang out [???] when they wouldn't even think about that years ago," Mark said, referring to groups of friends going to see a movie together.
Sasha, the senior, agreed that "times are changing," but only in limited ways. He sees more Iranian girls casually dating than in the past. "Now we're in America," he said. "American guys are out there." But the traditional values ingrained in first-generation Jewish Iranians are still strong. "Iranian girls really respect their parents, they're really into the family thing - very traditional," he said. "They really do care." Therefore if they do date casually, said Sasha, the boy has to be very special and it must be secretive. "Iranian girls are still uptight about it because they think about marriage - it's on their minds."
"A very little portion of society has become open-minded," Goldman said. "There's still so much concern about what others think." Goldman refers to the Iranian concern with "keeping face" in the community - or aberu. If aberu is gone, then so is the family's name and honor.
Preoccupation with aberu - denying one's self in order to be well regarded in the community - continues to impel parents to restrict their daughters' dating. "Even those parents who have lived here longer, who are more open-minded, don't allow their kids to go out with non-Iranians because they fear what others may think of them," Goldman said.
Even the younger generation practices this concept. "At a party you want to drink with your friends but you feel uncomfortable doing it in front of other people because you know they'll say 'Oh she's such a slut, you should have seen her this weekend…,'" said Jessica.
"The kids are very confused," Sabatelli said. "They want to uphold the old Iranian traditions and culture. They can't break away from it because then they'd have to break away from the family, but there's also a lot of resentment."
In past years Goldman put together an Iranian girls group that would meet to talk about their experiences growing up in Iranian families. "It was great support," she said. "One girl would talk about her experience and then another would say 'I can relate to that' and so on and so on."
"You have to understand how different cultures operate," said Sabatelli, who believes he understands the Iranian culture better because of his own Italian background. "Or else you make mistakes." Sabatelli said that Great Neck North began noticing differences between Iranian and American cultures once the number of Iranians started to grow. Then in 1994, the school decided to hire a Farsi-speaking social worker to deal with the teens and their families.
Today Goldman says she sees some change in the families with which she has worked. For example, more and more Iranian parents allow their daughters to go away to college, a privilege traditionally reserved for young males. "These girls come to me and beg me to speak to their parents," Goldman said. "I work together with the families to open the communication lines and break that resistance." This year, she says, is the first year that no one came to her. She attributes that to parents' better understanding of the issues that their teen-agers face.
Sabatelli is also optimistic. "Though the majority are still holding on to the traditional ways, they are changing somewhat," he said. "When this first generation has children, they will continue to assimilate more and more. Within two generations it will be mostly assimilated. The shift will be towards greater liberalization and acceptance."
Shandray Mehdian
(http://www.jrn.columbia.edu/studentwork/race/2001/date_mehdian.shtml)
Accessed 06/ 25/2007)
It was not a typical teen-age fight over a girl. The outraged student at Great Neck North High School in suburban Long Island was defending the honor of his Jewish-Iranian sister who had been smeared by what he deemed a vicious rumor. She had been accused of dating an American boy.
To the Jewish-Iranian community, the rumor was double trouble. Any form of dating by teen-age girls is prohibited, and dating outside the faith deepens the disgrace. At stake is the family's reputation and the girl's chance for marriage. So the brother punched out the Jewish-Iranian student who had spread the false tale - and was suspended for two days.
"My best friend went crazy," Sasha, an 18-year-old senior, said of the fist swinger. Like many other Jewish-Iranian students, Sasha asked that only his first name be used.
However, schools officials familiar with the Jewish-Iranian community, were not shocked by the fight. "For a girl to be seen with someone, or even a rumor about her, can get brothers and fathers excited," said Angelo Sabatelli, assistant principal at Great Neck North. "Because then the marriage proposal is gone. Now everyone thinks she is not pure."
Though the fight was unusual , the issue of dating plagues many of the Jewish-Iranian teens at Great Neck North, which has a 38 per cent Iranian student population, most of them Jewish. Not only does the strict bar against girls dating or socializing with the opposite sex collide with American popular culture, but the rule, under Jewish-Iranian tradition, also exempts boys who are free to date any and all girls - a double standard that sometimes creates puzzlement and resentment among Jewish-Iranian girls.
The remarkable situation at Great Neck North can be traced to the 1978-79 revolution in Iran. Waves of Jewish Iranian immigrants fled to the United States, finding new homes all over the country, with the largest populations in New York and southern California. In Great Neck alone, Jewish Iranians estimate that there are nearly 3,500 families. With so many families packed into a small town of about 37,000, they say, a close-knit subculture inevitably emerges and defense of family integrity - and particularly the reputation of young women - becomes crucial.
In the Jewish-Iranian culture, women uphold the values and virtues of the community. When it comes to dating and socializing with the opposite sex, women must abide by the strictest standards and remain a symbol of purity. Thus "casual" dating by females, with no intention of marriage, or dating outside the community is out of the question, said Shanaz Goldman, a social worker at Great Neck North since 1994. "I have not yet met a Jewish-Iranian mother who'd feel comfortable with her daughter having an American boyfriend," said Goldman, also a member of the Pupil Personnel, a group of psychologists, social workers and mental health professionals.
Usually, the slightest deviance can mar the reputation of a young woman and her family's integrity. "God forbid that a girl have a bad name in the society," Goldman said. "Her prospects of finding a mate will be doomed."
On the other hand, the opposite is true of Jewish Iranian boys. Not only are they expected to date at an early age, but they are encouraged to date non-Iranian women. "Boys can do whatever the girl cannot," Goldman said. "Parents will encourage him to have a girlfriend - it's like a badge of honor."
Sabatelli agreed. "While Iranian girls are not permitted to date, Iranian boys are encouraged to 'have fun,'" he said. "The boys are not discouraged from dating the American girls." Sabatelli, who has been at the high school for 20 years, says 60 per cent of the Jewish-Iranian male seniors are dating non-Iranian females. "But you'll never see an Iranian girl holding hands with another boy," he said. "You just don't see it -- not even at the prom."
Though the double standard is deeply rooted in the traditional Iranian culture, Sabatelli, who has studied European and Middle Eastern history, feels it has also become a "macho thing" among the high school boys at Great Neck North to date American girls.
According to Goldman, who puts on parenting workshops for adults throughout the academic year, several factors explain the double standard. First is the influence of the Islamic culture that, some critics say, dictates the second-class status of women. "The woman's job was to be subservient," Goldman said. "She had to stay home and take care of the children." In present day Iran women must still wear the traditional head covering, the chador, and are forbidden to ride bicycles in public parks and streets.
A second factor is class, Goldman said. In Iran, a country based on a class system, the upper echelon could afford to send their male children abroad for education. Thus the men had greater opportunities and freedom to mingle with Western women.
A third factor, according to Goldman, is the fact that Jews in Iran were a minority and consequently adhered more to their cultural ways. Most considered pre-marital sex and intimacy unacceptable, as stipulated by Jewish laws and mores. Here in America, Jewish Iranians again represent a minority community. "But because mainstream American culture is so different, some values are played out more strongly than they were in the homeland and adhered to with greater tenacity," Goldman said.
In Iran this system seemed to work well, observers say. But America is a different story, especially for the new generation of youth born and reared in a culture so different from that of the older generation.
"If their culture means that much to them, that's great," said Jessica, a junior who has been in the Great Neck public school system since elementary school. "But I think it's overdone a little." Jessica says she comes from a Jewish-Iranian family that is more open-minded but she must still marry only a Jewish-Iranian male.
Jessica said her parents, who "love each other to death" and who have been together for 25 years, met each other in Iran and were married six days later. Those sorts of marriages were common in Iran 20 or 30 years ago.
But now times are different. And tension and conflict arise when the older generation demands to uphold the traditional values of the Jewish-Iranian culture and their first- generation children wish to follow the ways of their non-Iranian peers. And in no other area does this tension surface more clearly than when it comes to dating and socializing. At times Jessica feels confused. "Iranian girls aren't supposed to date until they want to get married," she said. "But how will you gain dating experience for marriage when you haven't had any relationships?"
As for the double standard, Jessica thinks it's wrong for parents to impose a set of strict standards for one child and not for the other. "It's so annoying," she said. "My brother was allowed to do everything at my age - had no curfews and about a hundred girlfriends. If I had one boyfriend my parents would say 'what's going on?'"
"There's definitely, definitely a double standard," Goldman said. "All these girls want is to have a normal adolescent life. But their parents are so fearful that they place restrictions on behavior. They have limits on their freedom-no sleepovers, no camps, early curfews, and no unchaperoned parties."
What sometimes happens, said Goldman, herself a mother of three, is that the children who face restrictions without any knowledge of their culture or understanding of their values, end up with resentment, fear and anathema. "Those are the ones who hate the culture, who don't like to speak Farsi, or be called Iranians," Goldman said. "They have no sense of identity with the culture."
On the other hand, Goldman argues that the Jewish-Iranian children who "embrace their heritage" and have a good sense of their culture and where they come from are more accepting of their parent's values.
"All the kids my age are still living in that mentality, in the shadow of their parents," Jessica said. "And as long as that happens, it's never going to end." But after a moment's thought, Jessica modified her conclusion: "It's stressful, but it works out well in the end because it leans towards a more disciplined life."
Mark, a 16-year-old Jewish-Iranian student with spiked hair, has no problem with the double standard. "It's better for Iranian girls to be like that," he said. "When an Iranian guy is ready to get married he's not going to look for the girl who's been dating ever since she was a teen-ager." Sabatelli explained it further. "When it comes to marriage, the boys know they must marry a 'nice, Iranian girl,'" he said. "The parents want to hold on to those values to ensure that their daughter or son marry within the Iranian culture."
"The young boys want to marry someone pure," Goldman said. "That's what's been ingrained in them."
Mark said his sister didn't date until she was ready for marriage. He estimates that at Great Neck North 15 per cent of Iranian girls date casually but 75 per cent would do it "if they could."
So are there any signs of change in how Jewish-Iranian traditions play out at Great Neck North? Yes and no, say students and school officials. While basic values remain in tact and dating is restricted, "girls and guys can hang out [???] when they wouldn't even think about that years ago," Mark said, referring to groups of friends going to see a movie together.
Sasha, the senior, agreed that "times are changing," but only in limited ways. He sees more Iranian girls casually dating than in the past. "Now we're in America," he said. "American guys are out there." But the traditional values ingrained in first-generation Jewish Iranians are still strong. "Iranian girls really respect their parents, they're really into the family thing - very traditional," he said. "They really do care." Therefore if they do date casually, said Sasha, the boy has to be very special and it must be secretive. "Iranian girls are still uptight about it because they think about marriage - it's on their minds."
"A very little portion of society has become open-minded," Goldman said. "There's still so much concern about what others think." Goldman refers to the Iranian concern with "keeping face" in the community - or aberu. If aberu is gone, then so is the family's name and honor.
Preoccupation with aberu - denying one's self in order to be well regarded in the community - continues to impel parents to restrict their daughters' dating. "Even those parents who have lived here longer, who are more open-minded, don't allow their kids to go out with non-Iranians because they fear what others may think of them," Goldman said.
Even the younger generation practices this concept. "At a party you want to drink with your friends but you feel uncomfortable doing it in front of other people because you know they'll say 'Oh she's such a slut, you should have seen her this weekend…,'" said Jessica.
"The kids are very confused," Sabatelli said. "They want to uphold the old Iranian traditions and culture. They can't break away from it because then they'd have to break away from the family, but there's also a lot of resentment."
In past years Goldman put together an Iranian girls group that would meet to talk about their experiences growing up in Iranian families. "It was great support," she said. "One girl would talk about her experience and then another would say 'I can relate to that' and so on and so on."
"You have to understand how different cultures operate," said Sabatelli, who believes he understands the Iranian culture better because of his own Italian background. "Or else you make mistakes." Sabatelli said that Great Neck North began noticing differences between Iranian and American cultures once the number of Iranians started to grow. Then in 1994, the school decided to hire a Farsi-speaking social worker to deal with the teens and their families.
Today Goldman says she sees some change in the families with which she has worked. For example, more and more Iranian parents allow their daughters to go away to college, a privilege traditionally reserved for young males. "These girls come to me and beg me to speak to their parents," Goldman said. "I work together with the families to open the communication lines and break that resistance." This year, she says, is the first year that no one came to her. She attributes that to parents' better understanding of the issues that their teen-agers face.
Sabatelli is also optimistic. "Though the majority are still holding on to the traditional ways, they are changing somewhat," he said. "When this first generation has children, they will continue to assimilate more and more. Within two generations it will be mostly assimilated. The shift will be towards greater liberalization and acceptance."
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Mom, They're Staring at You
Jackie Levin. Sep 15 2006 (http://cornellsun.com/node/18292). Accessed May 17, 2007.
“There’s something I’d like to get off my chest here because it’s been a real crowd-pleaser these days. [pause] I’m Iranian ... and Jewish! Now, I know what you’re all thinking: ‘Should I hate him ... or hate him?’” — comedian Dan Ahdoot.
Like the very funny Mr. Ahdoot, I, too, am an Iranian Jew. Given the current state of global affairs, I realize this combination sounds about as likely as Tom Cruise’s return to Earth or Mel Gibson advocating Zionism, but alas, it is true. There are all of about, say, six of us in the world — but we do exist.
Being an Iranian Jew is a difficult situation to be in, mainly because of all the internal conflicts that arise from it. For instance, should I enrich uranium or my wallet? Rice or couscous? Turban or yarmulke? But the toughest part of being an Iranian Jew isn’t so much hating yourself as it is surviving as the first generation child of Iranian Jewish parents — or F.O.B.s, as I more affectionately like to call them. [If you are unfamiliar with the term, an F.O.B. is someone who is “Fresh Off the Boat” — an immigrant, to be precise.] Talk about a double-whammy. My parents are Jewish ... and Middle Eastern! If you take your most overprotective Jewish mother and times her by a thousand, you might begin to have an idea of what I’m talking about here.
I have friends from countries like ... England ... who try to convince me they are the children of F.O.B.s. I tell them that being an F.O.B.-child in America is much like being a war veteran — it’s traumatic, disquieting and disturbing on all levels —and not something that can just be arbitrarily claimed. It is a title which must be earned. If your parents can speak clear, unaccented English, you are probably not the child of F.O.B.s. If your parents know who Jimi Hendrix is, you are probably not the child of F.O.B.s. And if your mother was a member of the PTA, you are probably not the child of F.O.B.s.
But just in case there is still any confusion, I have come up with a guide in determining whether or not you are the child of F.O.B.s.
You know you are a F.O.B.-child if ...
... if your parents always let you do whatever you wanted in high school ... as long as you were doing it with other kids of your ethnic group.
“Vhat? You are coming home at te-ree AM? You are heetch-hiking vit some te-ruck derivers? Dey are offering you co-cane? ... Ohh, ohh, ohkay. As long as Fariba’s parents said ees okay, too. See you later, darleeng.”
... if your mother never liked that one white friend of yours who insisted on calling her by her first name.
“Hi Parveen! I love your new hairdo. What’s new??” “No-teeng, Brittany. Um, vhat a nice, um, tattoo you have.”
...if your parents never drove you to school.
“In EE-ron, I had to valk tventy-four keelometers on hot sand to get to es-chool! Vhat is dees ‘car-pool’?? Did Brittany teach you dees!? You valk!”
...if your parents don’t have a clue about modern technology and/or the internet.
“Ask Goo-gel if he has Prada dress in size nine!” “Ask Vikipedia how much sugar for baklava.” “I pressed the es-pace bar! Vhy com-pu-ter no turn on?”
... if, as a girl, your dad threatens to beat you for dating, yet slips your older brother twenties for strip clubs.
“Young lady, you date vhen you are married!” “Es-steven, get von vit big be-reasts.”
...if your parents talk loudly and indiscriminately about other people in public places, not caring and/or realizing if they are overheard.
“Ja-kee, your mo-ther says dat girl looks like vhite te-rash! And she theenks her Cha-nel bag is fake! Vhat you theenk?”
... if your parents misuse common phrases in horrifying ways, and almost always in conversation with your friends.
“Alex, you look so built up! Have you been leef-teeng irons? I can see you vere pumping it out!”
...if your dad only values math and science classes.
... if your house smells like Sangam at dinner time.
... if your mom decks out in designer clothing and furs on a ten minute jaunt to the supermarket “just in case” she runs into other members of your ethnic community.
... if you told your friends your dad was related to Saddam. Not to be funny, but because it might be true.
... if your friends believed you.
... if your mom has tried using coupons at the Dollar Tree.
... if your parents answer your private cellular phone as though it were a main house line.
... if your mom would be just as happy if you got your MRS. as she would be if you got your M.D. or phD.
... if family reunions resemble Al-Qaeda gatherings.
... if everything is compared to how it was in the “mother country.”
... if your parents love America, but hate everyone here.
If you have personally experienced any of these particular traumas, or worse, Congratulations: you probably are the child of F.O.B.s!
So the next time your mother tries to haggle at The Gap or your father declares any male friend of yours with an earring “gay,” and you’re left sitting there fantasizing about different ways to die, just remember: being a F.O.B.-child is not without its advantages. Chances are you’re multi-lingual, which is very cool, and you probably get to travel to different countries to visit relatives who are still O.B. (On the Boat). And, best of all, if you’re lucky, your culture probably comes along with some pretty decent food.
So cheer up! Things could have been a lot worse.
We could have been Canadian.
Jackie Levin is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at jl482@cornell.edu. Everything In Its Right Place appears alternate Fridays.
“There’s something I’d like to get off my chest here because it’s been a real crowd-pleaser these days. [pause] I’m Iranian ... and Jewish! Now, I know what you’re all thinking: ‘Should I hate him ... or hate him?’” — comedian Dan Ahdoot.
Like the very funny Mr. Ahdoot, I, too, am an Iranian Jew. Given the current state of global affairs, I realize this combination sounds about as likely as Tom Cruise’s return to Earth or Mel Gibson advocating Zionism, but alas, it is true. There are all of about, say, six of us in the world — but we do exist.
Being an Iranian Jew is a difficult situation to be in, mainly because of all the internal conflicts that arise from it. For instance, should I enrich uranium or my wallet? Rice or couscous? Turban or yarmulke? But the toughest part of being an Iranian Jew isn’t so much hating yourself as it is surviving as the first generation child of Iranian Jewish parents — or F.O.B.s, as I more affectionately like to call them. [If you are unfamiliar with the term, an F.O.B. is someone who is “Fresh Off the Boat” — an immigrant, to be precise.] Talk about a double-whammy. My parents are Jewish ... and Middle Eastern! If you take your most overprotective Jewish mother and times her by a thousand, you might begin to have an idea of what I’m talking about here.
I have friends from countries like ... England ... who try to convince me they are the children of F.O.B.s. I tell them that being an F.O.B.-child in America is much like being a war veteran — it’s traumatic, disquieting and disturbing on all levels —and not something that can just be arbitrarily claimed. It is a title which must be earned. If your parents can speak clear, unaccented English, you are probably not the child of F.O.B.s. If your parents know who Jimi Hendrix is, you are probably not the child of F.O.B.s. And if your mother was a member of the PTA, you are probably not the child of F.O.B.s.
But just in case there is still any confusion, I have come up with a guide in determining whether or not you are the child of F.O.B.s.
You know you are a F.O.B.-child if ...
... if your parents always let you do whatever you wanted in high school ... as long as you were doing it with other kids of your ethnic group.
“Vhat? You are coming home at te-ree AM? You are heetch-hiking vit some te-ruck derivers? Dey are offering you co-cane? ... Ohh, ohh, ohkay. As long as Fariba’s parents said ees okay, too. See you later, darleeng.”
... if your mother never liked that one white friend of yours who insisted on calling her by her first name.
“Hi Parveen! I love your new hairdo. What’s new??” “No-teeng, Brittany. Um, vhat a nice, um, tattoo you have.”
...if your parents never drove you to school.
“In EE-ron, I had to valk tventy-four keelometers on hot sand to get to es-chool! Vhat is dees ‘car-pool’?? Did Brittany teach you dees!? You valk!”
...if your parents don’t have a clue about modern technology and/or the internet.
“Ask Goo-gel if he has Prada dress in size nine!” “Ask Vikipedia how much sugar for baklava.” “I pressed the es-pace bar! Vhy com-pu-ter no turn on?”
... if, as a girl, your dad threatens to beat you for dating, yet slips your older brother twenties for strip clubs.
“Young lady, you date vhen you are married!” “Es-steven, get von vit big be-reasts.”
...if your parents talk loudly and indiscriminately about other people in public places, not caring and/or realizing if they are overheard.
“Ja-kee, your mo-ther says dat girl looks like vhite te-rash! And she theenks her Cha-nel bag is fake! Vhat you theenk?”
... if your parents misuse common phrases in horrifying ways, and almost always in conversation with your friends.
“Alex, you look so built up! Have you been leef-teeng irons? I can see you vere pumping it out!”
...if your dad only values math and science classes.
... if your house smells like Sangam at dinner time.
... if your mom decks out in designer clothing and furs on a ten minute jaunt to the supermarket “just in case” she runs into other members of your ethnic community.
... if you told your friends your dad was related to Saddam. Not to be funny, but because it might be true.
... if your friends believed you.
... if your mom has tried using coupons at the Dollar Tree.
... if your parents answer your private cellular phone as though it were a main house line.
... if your mom would be just as happy if you got your MRS. as she would be if you got your M.D. or phD.
... if family reunions resemble Al-Qaeda gatherings.
... if everything is compared to how it was in the “mother country.”
... if your parents love America, but hate everyone here.
If you have personally experienced any of these particular traumas, or worse, Congratulations: you probably are the child of F.O.B.s!
So the next time your mother tries to haggle at The Gap or your father declares any male friend of yours with an earring “gay,” and you’re left sitting there fantasizing about different ways to die, just remember: being a F.O.B.-child is not without its advantages. Chances are you’re multi-lingual, which is very cool, and you probably get to travel to different countries to visit relatives who are still O.B. (On the Boat). And, best of all, if you’re lucky, your culture probably comes along with some pretty decent food.
So cheer up! Things could have been a lot worse.
We could have been Canadian.
Jackie Levin is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at jl482@cornell.edu. Everything In Its Right Place appears alternate Fridays.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
"Iran's Global War Curriculum"
"Iran's Global War Curriculum" by Dr. Arnon Groiss is published by the Center for Monitoring the Impact of Peace. The text presents findings on anti-semitic text in Iranian school textbooks.
http://www.edume.org/
http://www.edume.org/
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