Neeka

“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.”
― Marjan Kamali, Together Tea

“The red lamps on the metal stands swung above them. Mina saw all the streets of Iran in her mind's eye, hundreds and hundreds of red lamps for the boys who died, thousands and thousands for the dead in that war, so many lives cut short. She wanted to tell her grandfather that her new country wasn't what he accused it of being. But here she was again, in one country wanting to describe the truth of the other country—knowing she never really could.”
― Marjan Kamali

“This wasn’t like anything I’d ever known. I wanted him to hold me after. To wake up with me in the morning and eat cereal in my bed while we watched TV. I wanted to see his pajamas on Christmas morning and find out what he looked like with birthday candles lighting his face and snow in his hair.”
― Abby Jimenez, Just for the Summer

“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.”
― Marjan Kamali, Together Tea