Today, Apr 13th, is the official start of Immigrant Heritage Week in New York City. Est in 2004 & in collaboration with the Mayor's Office of Immigrant Affairs, it's a week that celebrates all of the contributions immigrants have made to this city and US.

(My GCal!) /1

What's also interesting about today is that it is my Persian birthday. I say "Persian birthday" because the distinction is quite important, and it was born out of my own immigration journey. So, I'd thought I'd share it!

(That's me and my Dad in Iran!) /2

My fam escaped Tehran and somehow ended in Chicago in 1986 - a week after the Chicago Bears won the Super Bowl - they landed at O'Hare, loaded with what few possessions they could transport, and me, a 5 year-old boy.

(Superbowl Shufffffle: )

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Needless to say, this moment must have been chaotic and overwhelming for my fam as their thoughts must have been racing. Will they learn English? What kind of jobs would they get? Would they return to Iran? Where will they find friends? Could it feel like home?

(Pensive pic) /4

What's even more crazy? Dealing with the immigration paperwork w/o English skills. Visas, INS, birth certificates, ids, poorly translated docs, vaccines, etc. Whole lives boiled down to translated text on paper.

(Raul is the mannn for those who don't know.) /5

So, with such a heavy load to carry - both mentally and physically - I imagine the last thing on my parents' minds was calendar conversion dates.

The Iranian calendar and the Gregorian calendar are...well...not the same.

( http://www.iranian-calendar.com  to Covid-19 deep dive.) /6

All this say, when I came to this country, according to all of that confusing paperwork, my birth date was incorrectly inputed as Apr 15th. And why would I question that. I just accepted it. And *always* celebrated on Tax Day.

(This bike was the shizzzzz.) /7

I just ate cake on April 15th without a thought until...

(Gimme that shirt backkkkk. It says High Energy People.) /8

Cut to me at 27, looking thru my dad's leather-bound briefcase from his days as a banker in Iran. My mom saw me looking through these old docs and family relics, and casually mentioned that she'd recently found my original birth certificate. /9

I had assumed that my certificate, along with so many important records, had been left in Iran. To discover that a tangible record of my family's history had survived the move floored me. So there I am, seeing my birth certificate for the first time. /10

And as I'm investigating each doc, I realized I was actually born on Apr f'in 13. (24th of Farvardin in Iran.)

At first, I was rather annoyed. How did they get my birthday wrong? How come my parents didn't figure it out? Who's fault was this? Should I change it? WHO AM I? /11

Today - 40 years old - I find it rather beautiful.

I have two birthdays to represent two parts of myself. Iranian and American. My Persian birthday, the actual day I was born. And my nationally observed holiday and a marker of my family's transatlantic journey, Apr 15th.

/12

I can't tell you how much I love being an immigrant. How meaningful it is that gov officials in NYC found it important enough that the city's immigrants have a fixed week every year to celebrate their heritages. I love their resilience, grit, hard work and love for America.

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And I can't tell you how proud I am to be celebrating my 40th birthday on this day, the start of Immigrant Heritage Week 2020.

More info on Immigrant Heritage Week here: https://www1.nyc.gov/site/immigrants/index.page

(And a random gif of Stewy Hosseini #SuccessionHBO. An immigrant, bro.)

/end