Dare to be weird!

From a young age I always knew I was different.  Growing up with my mom's side of the family, there were 12 of us grand kids, and 9 were half Mexican, 2 were half white, and then there was me -- the lone Persian.  Most my aunts and uncles went through divorces and were on second marriages, but at least most of my cousins got to spend time with both of their parents.  The fact that I didn't even have a dad didn't occur to me until I was around 3-4 years old.  I remember one day seeing my eldest cousin doing some work around my grandma's house, and I asked him what he was doing.  He explained he was helping his dad do some repairs and it just dawned on me -- "Oh, I don't have a dad."  My older male cousins and uncles all watched out for me from then on.

But I was never like anyone else in my family.  I was told they'd find me sitting in my crib just whistling to myself as a 1 year old, and by 3 I was already picking out tunes on my family's electric organ.  My grandma was going through a divorce and a bad case of empty nest syndrome at the time, so she focused all her attention on me.  She already had me reading and memorizing bible scriptures before I hit preschool.  Unfortunately, a side effect of this was that she kept a tight grip on me.  She was paranoid my father's family would demand that I be sent to them in Iran.  I was rarely allowed to make friends, and I was constantly reminded never to tell anyone my family's private business.

I remember one time - maybe it was around 1st grade - when my mom was late to pick me up from school.  When the lady in the office asked my name so she could call home for me, I replied proudly, "Crystal Golriz!!"  This of course induced panic among the school staff when they could find no child registered by this name.  Fortunately my mom showed up and explained the situation, but when I got home, my mom and grandma explained to me that while yes, usually children have the same family name as their father, they had given me an American name on my birth certificate and I should not tell anyone that my father is/was Iranian.  I remember the confusion that went through my little mind; how was I supposed to behave or act to go along with the American name that wasn't really mine?  I didn't know how to be Iranian either, and the rest of my cousins were half Mexican, and my mom and grandma were different from me too.  In fact, all the other kids I was in school with were different from me too.

So there I was already having an identity crisis.  I never felt like I really fit in or could relate well to other kids, but I did pretty much get along with everyone.  I had my piano lessons and dance lessons, but outside of that I just spent time with my family and helped out around my grandma's home day care business.  Since I wasn't allowed much of a social life, I became a total book worm.  My mom was supportive of this - she always took me to the library and used book store and never limited the amount of books I could take home.

There was some point as a kid where I became obsessed with maps and foreign languages.  My Mexican uncles taught me how to count in Spanish, and my Hawaiian grandpa taught me how to count in Japanese & Hawaiian.  I would read atlases and facts about countries around the world for hours and contemplate where I would travel when I grew up.  I would stare at the forbidden country of Iran where my father was from and just wonder if my family was there and if it was as bad a place as the news was saying. Sometimes if I misbehaved, my grandma would threaten to throw a hijab over my head and send me off to that "sh**hole country where my father's from, where people live in mud huts and have goats coming in and out of their houses!"  My curiosity was so great that sometimes I thought about doing something really bad so maybe she'd follow through with her threat, but it never happened.

I could rock a lei like a good Hawaiian keiki

By highschool I was still pretty unsure of myself and who I was, but by then I was embracing more of my Hawaiian side.  I read everything I could find on Polynesian history and mythology, and even participated in Cultural fairs put on by the school's International Club.  By then I was in Advanced Placement Spanish, and earned college credit for language. And then my nerd side came out and I went through a phase when I was obsessed with Japanese comic books and Anime, so suddenly I had a lot of male friends with the same interests.  I spent a couple summers volunteering at Comic Con so I could have free entrance to the event and everything.

But even with these little elements of my personality peeking out here and there, I still mostly behaved in a way I knew was expected of me by my family.  Everything I did or said was highly influenced by what I thought would please my grandmother.  After all, she had poured so much time and energy into raising me so I wouldn't have to grow up in a country ravaged by a revolution and a war, right?  I was basically always being told to appreciate my freedom, I was SOOOO lucky to be an American because my other options could've been so much more worse.  Maybe that's true; I don't really know.  But I still don't think I really had any freedom because hell, who was I anyways?  I wasn't free to be Crystal Golriz or be open and proud of the other half of my heritage that is Persian.

I think if I had been allowed to be open and proud about my differences, my weirdness, or the unique being that I was, I would have grown up with so much more self confidence.   I felt I lived my life always afraid to speak out or be myself because people would judge me as weird.  I became ashamed of playing the piano or excelling in school.  I just wanted to be like everyone else with normal families and a cultural heritage I could be proud of and relate to with others.  My Mexican cousins could talk about making tamales with their other grandmothers, and my friends at school would talk about trips back to the Philippines or tell funny inside jokes only the other Filipino students would understand.   I would sit there with stories in my head about my own family that I knew would be frowned upon if I were to ever repeat them aloud.

This self doubt and awkwardness even continued into adulthood for me, but more and more I'm starting to embrace my inner weirdness.  I figure that as long as I just be 100% honest and be myself, and treat others the way I want to be treated, if anyone doesn't like me that's their problem and I need to be ok with that.  In fact, this is how I want to raise my own children.  Be yourself and do good and you'll be fine.  Its better to be unique; if everyone were all the same, the world would be so boring and we would never have any advancement.  In someways, now I tend to gravitate towards weird.  I find a lot of humor and beauty in weird; its not such a bad thing.

More to come on my weird life later :)
#MultiCultural #MixedRace #Hawaiian #Italian #Persian #Iran #Golriz #Japanese #Diversity #different #unique #weird #confidence