We Can’t Run From Khamenei

A lot of people have asked me how it feels – Iran directly attacking Israel. It feels big and personal at the same time. Like reaching the final pages of a long volume on my family’s history. Both sides of my family fled Tehran in the ‘70s and realized the American dream. They started over in Nevada and California and achieved professional success beyond their wildest dreams.

Against a backdrop of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, my parents taught us to have gratitude and pride for both America and for our Persian Jewish heritage. One didn’t have to come at the expense of the other. To be grateful to live in a democracy that valued religious freedom and to understand how precious that is. After all, they learned firsthand that your government and social status could change overnight.

When you have to leave your home country because of religious persecution, you either relinquish your religious identity or you hold onto it more strongly. My parents chose the latter. They reminded us daily that we should be proud to be Jewish. To understand that Zionism is an important pillar of our Judaism as “Israel is every Jew’s life insurance.” To show our support for America and Israel – both vocally and financially. To embrace our Persian names and maintain our ability to speak Persian.

Yes, we realized the American dream but gradually it turned into Khamenei’s dream. The same power/ideology that drove my family out of Iran has reached America 45 years later. After Khamenei tweeted his support for the campus encampments across America, I felt validated in my decision to move to Israel in 2022. No one understands the danger of the Iranian regime better than oppressed Iranian citizens, Persian Jews in the diaspora, and Israelis. In April of this year, as we waited for Iran’s missiles to reach us in Israel, a couple of things became clear:

1. I felt privileged to sit in my Tel Aviv apartment and to no longer be a Jew on the run. This is what it means to be home.
2. Even if I wanted to run, there’s nowhere to hide. Radical Islam is pervasive. This is a world war between Radical Islam and the Western World. I don’t recognize America anymore and I feel grateful to live in a country that is standing up to this bully – even if she has to do it alone.

Ultimately, this is what being Israeli is all about – self-determination. No one is going to save you. You’re on the frontline of the Western world but at least your safety is in your own hands. Despite the danger, I’m here by choice because I don’t want to run anymore. I’ve felt an odd sense of relief since accepting that it’s impossible to ever truly run away from Khamenei. The Iranian regime has changed the two countries my family has called home to the point of being unrecognizable. Before it’s too late, I hope America remembers who she is. I hope Gen Z realizes the danger of supporting the Iranian regime and its proxies, and in doing so, inviting their influence with open arms. For now, I take comfort in being surrounded by Israelis who also appreciate the Western values I grew up with.

My great-grandmother and grandmother are anxiously watching the news from their Los Angeles apartment, fearful of the Iranian regime’s capabilities. Meanwhile, I’m at a restaurant in Tel Aviv speaking Hebrew loudly with my friends. This freedom is a new privilege for me and it saddens me that none of my grandparents will ever know it. I’d like to think this homecoming is theirs as much as it is mine.

So how do I feel about Iran directly attacking Israel? I feel anxious and grateful. I feel proud to live among selfless men and women who are safeguarding the values Khamenei is trying to erase. Mostly, I feel at home and that this home is worth fighting for.