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1 " Now that she was here, she realized there were no huge teacups in which people sat and laughed, but the people still spun endlessly. "
― Marjan Kamali , Together Tea
2 " She knew how to swing her legs on that hyphen that defined and denied who she was: Iranian-American. Neither the first word nor the second really belonged to her. Her place was on the hyphen and on the hyphen she would stay, carrying memories of the one place from which she had come and the other place in which she must succeed. The hyphen was hers-- a space small, and potentially precarious. On the hyphen she would sit, and on the hyphen she would stand, and soon, like a seasoned acrobat, she would balance there perfectly, never falling, never choosing either side over the other, content with walking that thin line. "
3 " I'm not scared. The only thing that scares me is God. And guess what, Mina? God is not a fanatic. "
4 " Cats?” Baba looked up from practicing chopping tomatoes, looking as if he might explode. “Kittens? ‘Persian’ should remind people of the empire that stretched from one side of the East to the other. The empire that set a new global standard, contributed mountainfuls to astronomy, science, mathematics, and literature, and had a leader, Cyrus the Great, who had the gumption to free the Jewish people and declare human rights! That empire! You can’t be shortsighted when you look at history. History is long!” Baba was shouting now. He continued to slice tomatoes. “Cats! What have we been reduced to? "
5 " Is he kind?” Darya asked. “Because, Mina, there’s a lot to be said for education. And a profession. And family history. And, well, looks. But if there’s one thing that matters, it’s character. That’s the only thing that lasts. Degrees can lose significance, jobs can be lost, a family’s past really shouldn’t define a person, and as for looks . . .” Darya sighed. “Well, looks fade for the best of us. But character, Mina, is what lasts. Kindness will carry you through the ups and downs of life. "
6 " She knew how to swing her legs on that hyphen that defined and denied who she was: Iranian-American. Neither the first word nor the second really belonged to her. Her place was on the hyphen, and on the hyphen she would stay, carrying memories of the one place from which she had come and the other place in which she must succeed. The hyphen was hers—a space small, potentially precarious. On the hyphen she would sit and on the hyphen she would stand and soon, like a seasoned acrobat, she would balance there perfectly, never falling, never choosing either side over the other, content with walking that thin line. "
7 " A whipped cream-laden cup of calories masquerading as coffee.It's always through the women that the men express their agenda. Now she has to cover up so they can feel like they are in power.Religion is a crutch for the weak. An escape. An illusion. A means to get manipulated. "
8 " Mina and her brothers quickly learned that in America, “Iran” was a bad word associated with terrorists, mullahs, and hostage-taking. “Just say ‘Persian’ and make it easy for yourself,” Kayvon advised. “People associate ‘Persian’ with good stuff—like fancy rugs and fat cats. "