It’s Time for Us to Talk about Anti-Blackness in the Iranian-American Community
Right now, people across the nation are coming together against police brutality and racial injustice. We, as an Iranian-American community, must consider how to show our solidarity with this movement. A big part of this solidarity is recognizing racism in our own community. While it may cause discomfort, it is important to think about how our community contributes to the structural racism of America. In fact, as I was writing this I found myself tiptoeing around my own experiences with racism in the community. I don’t intend to sound harsh towards some of my Iranian-American family and friends- who are good people with good hearts- but I think it is important to recognize their unconscious and conscious racial biases. While everyone’s instinct is to say, “I am not racist” because being labeled as one is an all-encompassing judgement on a person’s character, we all have racist tendencies. I want to shed light on how Iranian-American racist tendencies contribute to anti-Blackness in America.
It can be painful to realize that fond memories and traditions from your childhood are actually rooted in racism. The first example that comes to mind is the continuation of presenting Haji Firuz, an icon that sings in the streets during Persian New Year or Norooz, in blackface. The Norooz rhyme indicates Haji Firuz as a loyal servant to his master, connecting blackness to subjugation. This tradition only perpetuates racism within Iranian culture, rather than include Afro-Iranians in the diversity of the country. It is uncomfortable to think about how I was once a part of this tradition. When I was growing up, my siblings and I would participate in a Norooz dance recital. My brother and other male family friends dressed up as Haji Firuz, which included blackface. They danced around the stage singing this racist Norooz rhyme without knowing the meaning behind these unfamiliar Persian words. Both my brother and I are disturbed when looking back on this experience. As parents put together a seemingly fun children’s dance recital, they neglected to think about how this depiction of Haji Firuz might make biracial Iranian Americans feel inferior to the rest of the community.
While I don’t believe that any of my Iranian-American loved ones have hatred in their hearts, racism in America is more complex than that, and we unconsciously contribute to it. My family friend is a doctor, and a few years ago he told me a story of a pregnant black woman who came into the hospital. I don’t remember his exact words, but the message I got was, “She can’t afford it. Why would she have another baby she can’t afford? Because she knows the government is going to pay for it. I made myself from nothing in this country, why can’t she?” While I don’t believe this family friend is racist, this statement certainly was, and it was rooted in the systemic racism present across all aspects of American life. My family friend has probably seen a lot of black people stuck on welfare in his life. What he has failed to do is connect his statistically correct racial assumption to a long history in which Black Americans live with significant socioeconomic disadvantages. These views in part come from a lack of racial discourse within the Iranian-American community.
As a community, we are hyper aware of the racism and xenophobia we experience in this country, but we often forget to recognize how we also benefit from racial hierarchies. We are not excused from the conversation surrounding Black Lives Matter just because we also experience discrimination in America. While uncomfortable to admit, in many cases our white passing status affords us a privilege over other minorities. Solidarity is not just relating our own experiences of discrimination in America to other communities of color, but also realizing how we mask the realities of racial injustice when it benefits us.
The real and unjust discrimination that our community experiences is less pervasive than the unique structural racism that black people experience in America. It is much easier for an Iranian American to live in predominantly white communities and receive higher education and more economic opportunities. Poor neighborhoods with high crime and little-to-no opportunity are predominantly black because of continued racial biases fueled by systemic racism. Our racial privilege has helped us establish the community’s “model minority” narrative, which contributes to Iranian-American attitudes towards the black community. This narrative masks the struggles of Black Americans and causes Iranian Americans to falsely question why the black community has not been as successful as other communities of color.
As we show pride in the clear success of Iranian immigrants in America, we must also acknowledge the racial advantages that made these narratives possible. While many Iranian immigrant stories express an, “I pulled myself up by my bootstraps” sentiment, it is important to recognize why a Black American would struggle to create the same success story. While my family friend worked hard to create the life he has today, he has more opportunities in America than the black person he saw at the hospital.
Solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement means facilitating discourse within the Iranian-American community about how we perpetuate, and can combat, racism in America. While they won’t instantly solve police brutality, these conversations are what lead to change in America. Only until everyone recognizes the problem, does change begin to happen, and that can start at your dinner table. While sometimes resulting in discomfort, we must challenge the racial biases among our community. The Black Lives Matter movement is not just about holding yourself accountable, but also others around you. By recognizing our own racial privilege, and how it contributed to our success in America through these uncomfortable conversations, the Iranian-American community can be a part of this movement to protect the human and civil rights and opportunity of all people in this country.
