by Sara Saedi
To Lynn Fimberg, David Rubin, Eric Brooks, Michael Pelmont, and Matt Ochacher for the frequent pep talks and unwavering support.
Thank you to Susan Levine and Jane Reardon for your continued advice and confidence boosts.
To my dear friends Aleka Seville and Megan Carroll for making my teen years so much more bearable (and memorable).
Nastaran Dibai—you’re one of my writing heroes. Thank you for taking an interest in the book and encouraging me throughout.
A name check to my (first) cousins who made life as an immigrant far less lonely: Ali, Amir, Anoosheh, Arjang, Ashkan, Atefeh, Gita, Hootan, Kaveh, Kian, Ladan, Leyla, Maryam, Mehdi, Mitra, Nasiem, Neda, Omid, and Payam. A special thank-you to Omid Sanjideh, Ali Reza, and Atefeh for their expertise on all things Iran.
A huge thank-you to my (second) cousin Kianoush Naficy Curran for guiding me through immigration law and for being the best consultant a girl could ask for. I could not have done this without you.
To my khaleh Mandana, Shahrzad, and Mehrzad; my aunt Geneva; my ameh Fafar; and my dayee Mehrdad and Shahrdad for allowing me to reveal events from your past—however painful or personal. A very special thank-you to my dayee Mehrdad for reading an early draft of this book and giving such helpful feedback. Mostly, thank you for your wisdom and selflessness.
To my brother from another mother, Jake Abrams. I may have gotten an older brother later in life, but I got the best one.
This narrative is as much my sister and brother’s as it is mine. Samira and Kia, thank you for trusting me with our family history and our shared adolescent experiences. The best part of writing this book was remembering how much we meant to each other as kids, and knowing how much we still mean to each other as adults. I love you both so much.
I don’t even know how to properly thank my parents, Ali and Shohreh Saedi. This book is a product of every sacrifice you’ve made for me. If that wasn’t enough, you were also my researchers, fact-checkers, and story consultants all in one. Thank you for the hours you spent answering my questions and for sharing details of your lives I’d never known. You’re what every parent should be. I love you.
A lifetime of thank-yous to my husband, Bryon Schafer. I knew you were the guy for me when you were able to remember all of my cousins’ names and tell them apart. Thank you for always believing in me and for embracing our crazy culture. I love you more than Persians love koobideh.
To my son, Ellis Ata Schafer—I was pregnant with you while writing this book, which made the experience all the more significant. I know that when you’re old enough to read this, you’ll be so proud of where you came from. To think—if there’d been a travel ban, you may have never existed. I love you, pesaram.
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