“I could feel the tracks on my cheeks burned into my memory from the tears I had shed in Sokolka.”
“Words did not matter. We were celebrating life, we were celebrating community, and trust abounded.”
I’m an infidel. I’m Jewish. I’m an American, and I’m a woman. Any one or all of these factors put me at risk when I visited Iran in the summer of 2004. To my Iranian friend’s more religious relatives, I was an unwelcome guest.
Those who buy this anti immigrant rhetoric would squish this family in the same way that I’m contemplating killing this bug. So I don’t do it.