A VERY LARGE EXPANSE OF SEA by Tahereh Mafi

“My parents were actually pretty great, as far as human beings went. They were proud Iranian immigrants who worked hard, all day, to make my life better.

My parents never talked to my teachers.
They never called my school.
They never threatened to call some other kid’s mother because her son threw a rock at my face.

People had been shitting on me for having the wrong name/race/religion and socioeconomic status since as far back as I could remember, but my life had been so easy in comparison to my parents’ own upbringing that they genuinely couldn’t understand why I didn’t wake up singing every morning.

My dad’s personal story was so insane–he’d left home, all alone, for America when he was sixteen–that the part where he was drafted to go to war in Vietnam actually seemed like a highlight.

When I was a kid and would tell my mom that people at school were mean to me, she’d pat me on the head and tell me stories about how she’d lived through war and an actual revolution, and when she was fifteen someone cracked open her skull in the middle of the street while her best friend was gutted like a fish so, hey, why don’t you just eat your Cheerios and walk it off, you ungrateful American child.

I loved my parents, I really did.
But I never talked to them about my own pain.
It was impossible to compete for sympathy with a mother and father who thought I was lucky to attend a school where the teachers only said mean things to you and didn’t actually beat the shit out of you.”

Kindle, 2021