People have always said I was foreign- how right they were.

You celebrate too many things,

my classmates proclaimed in elementary school. When I brought four flags to the International
Day in the sixth grade I was shot many a stare. People say that my life is full of contradictions.

People look for barriers.

My dad was born the son of a government aristocrat in the Kingdom of Iran, and my mom was
born the daughter of an alcoholic father and a young mother in Springfield, Missouri. My
stepmother was born in Southern California to a father who, along with his family, was interned
by US troops in World War II because he was Japanese. My stepfather was born in Mexico to
parents who worked for decades to be able to cross the border into the United States.

My life has been dominated and my outlook formed by the intense and close mixture of these
four unique cultures.

I have kissed the Koran and prayed around the Haft-Sin, or Table of Seven Ss on the Spring
Equinox for the Persian New year. I have rocked out to Toby Keiths rendition of Im Proud to
be an American on the Fourth of July. I have eaten a grape and made a wish with each chime of
the bell towers clock and shouted Feliz Ao Nuevo! on New Years Eve. And I have heard,
firsthand, the stories of misunderstood immigrants from the Manzanar concentration camp.

For many this would be a challenge, and for me it often still is. I have both accepted Jesus Christ
and yet fasted in the holy month of Ramadan. Many say that my life is full of contradictions and
mismatches, but thats because theyre looking at it the wrong way. Thats because weve been
taught the wrong way.

People look for barriers.

What looks to be contradictory is actually complementary. It turns out that Thanksgiving turkey
tastes a bit better with freshly imported Persian saffron, and that using chopsticks at family
dinners after Easter Mass at San Mateos is quite efficient.

This seemingly endless cultural collage that I have lived for the past seventeen years hasnt just
brought me closer to amazing foods from the four corners of the globe. It has taught me what is
wrong with our world. It has taught me that we are groomed to build barriers, but that it makes
so much more sense to build bridges. It has taught me that sometimes barriers dont just come
down; sometimes they have to be brought down. It has taught me that sometimes I have to bring
them down.

When people look to classify groups by distinction, I look to congregate the very same groups by
similarity. If I dont, who will?

Palestinians harangue the Israelis building of settlements in the West Bank, and Israelis
lambaste the Palestinians for housing Hezbollah. But they ignore their common Abrahamic
heritage and incredibly similar religious ideologies. Blacks blame whites for the widespread
poverty in the inner cities and whites blame blacks for the purported perversion of American
youth through rap music. But they forget that Dr. King and President Lincoln called on both
groups to forgive and work together to foster humanity.
People look for barriers.

No one believes that I am my sisters brother- she has straight black hair and single eyelids. No
one believes that I am my dads son: he is tall, burly and clearly has a not from around here
kind of look. I get told my family photos look like a United Nations meeting.

When others look at my family photos, they manufacture barriers that arent there. They point
out the differences in skin color, eye shape, and hair type. But I dont see those things.
I see that we all have noses and eyes and ears and smiles. Big, big smiles.

I look for bridges.