One time, I was on a subway train holding a Japanese book. A man mistakenly thought I was Japanese and stood up to offer me his seat. He smiled at me and tried to speak English, asking if I was Japanese or Korean. I replied, “Neither! I’m from Afghanistan.” His response was one of shock and anger as he said, “You’re joking with me, right?” and took his seat back. Perhaps this reaction stems from certain behaviors of people in my hometown, who often have tattered clothes and a disheveled appearance. Of course, there is both goodness and evil in every place.
The character Ken Shin from the manga continues to be my hero. I am fascinated by Japan and can speak and write in Japanese. I can also recite haiku and follow sports matches, such as volleyball and football. I feel a deep connection to the culture. I told my family that if I don’t get the chance to visit Japan during my lifetime, they should bury my bones there so that I can rest in peace.
I think we Asians are like lamps that don’t fit into the environment and Iranian society. We are always seen as low-level. Perhaps they don’t respect us because of our underdeveloped country. People judge by what they see at first sight.
People often assume I’m Japanese and treat me with respect, but their attitude changes when they discover I’m from Afghanistan. I sometimes wish I were a Tajik girl from Tajikistan because we share many similarities, yet they don’t face the same hardships we do.
Sometimes I wonder if our ethnicity originated in Korea or Tajikistan. Maybe we came from there many years ago, which could explain why we often feel disoriented and out of place. My drawings are the only place where my dreams come to life. I can imagine anything I want, whether it’s based on legends or reality.
I’m originally from Afghanistan, was born in Pakistan, and was raised in Iran. A while back, I used to visit a psychologist’s office. The psychologist who had become quite close to me shared her experience of her husband’s betrayal. She explained that her husband had fallen in love with a Hazara girl she knew personally and left her alone.
After that, she hates the Hazaras. After discovering that I am also Hazara, she no longer accepted me. maybe we Hazaras are blamed for our destiny, perhaps we don’t behave correctly. mongoloid countries like Korea have developed, and we the Hazaras have been left behind. I sometimes wish we could belong to that part of the world, finding ourselves in this geography of central Afghanistan unexpectedly. It is a wish for a different region and ethnicity altogether.
In the mid-1990s, the Taliban expelled us from our homes in Afghanistan because we are Hazaras. They looted our village and set it on fire. My uncles were brutally killed by them simply for being Hazara. We fled to Quetta, Pakistan, where I faced harassment due to my ethnicity. Eventually, we moved to Iran in search of a better life and for our shared religion of Islam. As a teenager, I often felt out of place and chose to stay indoors for fear of being harassed.
For years, we endured bullying because of our Asian appearance. The term ‘Afghani’ became an insult among many Iranians. I often suffered, wondering why I was targeted for my eyes and looks. There were times I wished I could hide my face to conceal my identity. When I was out with my Hazara friends, we were frequently ridiculed and felt powerless to respond. I still worry about going to restaurants or other public places out of fear of being mocked. I focused on adapting to society instead of enduring that suffering as I grew older. In my workplace, I feel comfortable since no one judges me by my nationality. I long to be in Afghanistan, as I love it there, but I feel there is no place for Hazaras. Iran doesn’t feel like home either. I don’t identify as Iranian or Afghan, leaving me with a difficult feeling of not belonging. Where is my land?
Since the first day of school, I’ve faced discrimination and emotional harassment from my classmates. This has made me anxious, and I often feel lonely despite searching for friends. I left school a few weeks ago due to these issues, but I returned after the director insisted.
We feel out of place here. People often mistake us for Chinese or Japanese, but their attitude shifts when they learn we’re Afghan, and it becomes less friendly. Our appearance sets us apart from others in our hometown; we look more East Asian.
I feel like our origins come from that part of the world, as if we were cut from it and placed here in Central Afghanistan by mistake. Sometimes, I wish I could be reborn in China or Korea and become a singer because I carry the spirit of East Asia.
It seems like we don’t belong here. At first glance, people think we are Chinese or Japanese, but when they find out we are Afghan, their behavior changes, and they don’t act kindly. Our faces are different from others in our hometown; we look like East Asian people. I feel like our origin is from there and we were cut from that part of the world and pasted here in Central Afghanistan wrongly! I wish I could be born again in China or Korea and become a singer. I carry the spirit of East Asia.
I used to hate everyone. I never walked along the main streets because I preferred to be alone, away from sarcasm and humiliation. It felt like I had no place in this world. Then one day, our Iranian art teacher came into our lives and changed everything. She helped us change our perspective. I no longer let insults upset me; instead, I address them through art.
My parents still believe that Iranians are superior to us. Perhaps a worse future awaits us, or maybe one of our neighbors will harm us later, but I don’t mind anymore. I’ve come to realize that we are all part of the same world and the same nation. We all share this Earth.
We do not belong to Afghanistan, Iran, or any other place. Even in Europe, we are labeled as Asians, which makes us feel like we belong nowhere. I often wish we could discover a new continent or planet where no one looks down on us. I have always dreamed of becoming a pilot and then an astronaut, exploring space to find that new place and taking my people there to finally find a home.
The Hazaras, unable to find acceptance in their own country, have sought refuge in neighboring Iran, a country with shared religious beliefs. However, contrary to their expectations, they faced unkindness and discrimination upon arrival. Their Asian features, such as their almond-shaped eyes, have made them stand out in Iranian society, preventing their integration. Consequently, they find themselves in a search for identity and belonging, longing for a place they can call home.
The work I am undertaking focuses on shedding light on the Asian hate experienced by the Hazaras in Tehran province. Through documentary and staged photography, individuals will be depicted based on their personal stories and imagined desires. This project aims to raise awareness about the struggles the Hazaras face, who find themselves as strangers in their own country and foreigners in Iran(Tehran). They are people without a homeland, desperately seeking a sense of belonging and identity
The work I am undertaking focuses on shedding light on the Asian hate experienced by the Hazaras in Tehran province. Through documentary and staged photography, individuals will be depicted based on their personal stories and imagined desires. This project aims to raise awareness about the struggles the Hazaras face, who find themselves as strangers in their own country and foreigners in Iran(Tehran). They are people without a homeland, desperately seeking a sense of belonging and identity