The Land of Buffalo and 14ers

So I got my computer back yesterday (thanks Reza!) equipped with all sorts of cool things.  I'm really excited.  BUT, now that a week has passed since our trip to Colorado I feel sort of strange writing a blog post about it.  But, I guess I will since there was mucho I wanted to share.

SO COLORADO.  Salma and I grew up there, I lived there until I was 16 years old and that's when I moved to DC.  I thought it was the nightmare of my life unfolding when my mom told me that we were moving.  I thought I would never be happy again, and I spent the first 6 months of living here listening to Death Cab for Cutie on repeat, wearing brown corduroys, and cutting my bangs so they would cover my eyes (this equaled EMO for me.  Note--I still do all three things these days but I skip the label).  I was disheartened by everything that was northern Virginia.  I would go to school and I would get FREAKED out by the number of students who were NOT white.  And the worst thing for me was, I couldn't break into the "white" crowd at school, because I was just another Iranian, why did I want to be their friend anyway?

It was tough.  Slowly but surely, I began to find friends here and there, I started to appreciate living here more, and the tables began to turn.

Since then, I visited Colorado a couple of times, and each time, I felt that I was pulled farther and farther away from what my life had previously been.  This time, though, my connection with Colorado was virtually obsolete, and as much as I tried, I couldn't muster up enough energy to appreciate it.

It started I think while we were waiting in line at the airport to check in.  I looked over to my side and saw this young guy, probably my age, dressed in full-on military garb, standing there looking solemn.  I was pulled into a flashback of living in Colorado during the first deployment of American soldiers to Afghanistan.  The air was tense because so many of Colorado Springs citizens had military ties.  All over the city there were banners reading, "SUPPORT OUR TROOPS."  Restaurants, movie theaters, stores, they all gave military discounts.  I remember many of my classmates feeling bittersweet about their fathers and mothers leaving.  Sad because they had no idea what the future held for their parents, would they return and in what state?  Proud because they had a parent serving the United States Army.  They were pure patriots, they were, they held upmost dedication to the United States of America.

I always held my tongue at school when issues of the war would come up.  Already I had been labeled as "the other" when it came to issues of CITIZENSHIP.  Engar na engar I was born in the United States and I had been at school with these people since preschool.  No, during that period, it was always, "Ranna, aren't you from eyyyee-rack?"  No actually I'm not.  But that's where it ended.  These days, I don't really understand why I didn't try to educate my peers.  I think it was sort of as a means to fit in.  I didn't want to separate myself more from them by explaining that I was Iranian, and that Iran was here on the map, Iraq was here, Afghanistan was there, and that Guatemala and Greece shouldn't be confused, and couldn't by any means be used interchangeably.

So where was I, oh yeah, the airport.  So I started to think about all of these things while we were still in Dulles Airport.  And I found myself feeling a little queasy as I asked my mom, "Uhhh Mom?  Why are we going to Colorado again?  Who made this decision?  Do I have to go?"  I desperately wanted to stay back.  That wasn't happening.

When we got to Colorado, it didn't get any easier.  Life is different there.  Slower, more relaxed.  People take their time.  They say "hi" to each other in the street.  They drive slowly, no honking.  They wait in line for longer periods of time.

Coming from the east coast, things we are definitely not familiar with.  Living in DC for the last several years, I was not used to the relaxed nature of the sales clerks.  The way they talk to everyone, why do they want to know everyone's life story?  Pu-leese.  Ring me up, let me go.  KThanksBYE!

OK, so there I was after a couple days, sitting in our condo in Colorado and wondering once again why I couldn't just enjoy all of these things about Colorado instead of being so damn critical.  I wonder, if I had never lived here, if I didn't have the basis for comparison, would I appreciate being here more?  Would I appreciate the beauty of the mountains without thinking of the homogenous culture?  Would I be able to walk into a store, wait in line for a ridiculous amount of time and think, "How very quaint!  The culture of small-town life!  Sigghhhh.  Couldn't we all just sit back and smell the flowers every once in a while?"

Maybe.

But the issue of lack of diversity really gets to me.  I can't live in Colorado anymore because of this, I think.  I am comforted now by the fact that there are so many different kinds of people here, that there is an acceptance and a yearning to be educated about all the different ethnicities.  That I don't have to hide my Iranian lifestyle from my American one, that I can join them.

I have the perfect anecdote for this.

Since we've moved to Virginia, not ONE person has mispronounced my name.  So amazing.  I was completely 100% surprised when at school my first year at Marshall High School, all the teachers perfectly said, "Ranna" sans pause or difficulty.  It was such a breath of fresh air.  BECAUSE:

In Colorado, EVERYONE mispronounced my name.  It was always just known that OK first day of school, pause before they said a name, THAT name was my name.

But I had forgotten about this detail UNTIL

We went to get my Colorado Card (it's a card that's connected to a credit card and can be used as a lift ticket and also to buy food and merchandise) and the guy had my name in the system already and he called me "Reena."  REENA?!?!?  UUUH, excuse me, mister, but do you see any "E's" in my name?  No, I don't think so.  Reena??  Please.  So I corrected him and said, "Actually its RANNA."  BUT THEN, he said my name again, and called me Reena... AGAIN!!!  At that point I was like, ok whatever, Reena it is.  If you want.

Then, when I was telling Bryan, my stepbrother, about this, I asked, "is it because they don't take the time to look at my name, or QUOI?!?!"

We came to the conclusion that maybe its that.

But probably its because names there range from Katie-to Laura-to Madison.  Ranna is just ranging into the realm of the unknown.  And Saeedi?  Sheesh, that name taunts people into call Homeland Security.

"Well hey there missus, sayyyyyyy, wasn't Saeedi the name of one of those fellars there that crashed the planes?  One of those men there working for Obama?"

"Obama?  Obama?  Ohhhhh you mean Osama bin-Laden."

Laughs, "Osama, Obama, always get confused about those two."

Righhhhhhhhhhhhhhtttttt.

Man, I'm really being bad.  Lets not forget that Colorado was a blue state during the last elections.  Finally.  It's about time.

But, my bitterness is unfolding from all of the stereotypical racial slurs I received from my peers after September 11th up until we moved.  So, I have a right to throw it in their faces.

I want to write about Dani and Genevieve too, but I think they deserve their own blog post.  One that is not dripping with cynical sneers.

Tomorrow.