A Cup of My Culture

As I purse my lips around the cup and the aroma of cardamom and honey fill the air, I feel the happiest. A cup of Persian tea will always make my day. In Persian culture, drinking black tea, also called chai (چای), is a common tradition. During every event or celebration I can remember, chai is always served with an abundance of saffron-infused sugar cubes and other sweets. When I reflect upon memories with my family, gathered over cups of tea, I think of the most joyful memories I have. The warm rosy cheeks that appeared on my face from smiling, the stomachache I felt from laughing so hard with my cousins. However, over the years I began to feel disconnected from my Persian culture and traditions. I struggled immensely to incorporate my cultural background into my modern teenage life. This obstacle showed me that the simple inclusion of chai in my everyday routine helps me understand and appreciate my cultural identity, even when I am thousands of miles away from my native homeland. 

I will never forget the day my grandpa showed me how to make chai. I was only nine years old. He explained each step carefully and slowly to ensure I learned it properly. He taught me to correctly set up the kettle, prepare the leaves, and brew them. He explained the specific ways to make perfect tea. Position the kettle close enough to the flame to keep it warm while it brews. Cover the kettle with a towel while it brews, so all the aromas and tastes stay intact. I felt so special and lucky to be able to be taught by my grandpa. I can still recall his soft and comforting voice. I know his love and energy went into each cup he made, which helped me appreciate him so much more. When I made my first pot of tea, I could not be more proud of myself. The hot, sweet taste of the fresh tea made me feel relaxed and tranquil. I hugged my grandpa and thanked him for all his help. This is the story I shared at the memorial for my grandpa when he passed away. I barely concluded the speech with a shaky voice and eyes filled with tears. I explained that if we could have one last cup of chai together again, it would mean the world to me. This beautiful memory reminds me of the significance my family and culture hold in my life.  

When my grandfather passed, I was overwhelmed with sadness. Not only was I miserable, but I also felt out of touch with my cultural roots. I felt as though I lost my connection to my culture and struggled to find it again. I had difficulty integrating my traditions into my everyday life. Living in a predominantly Caucasian town, and being one of the few Middle Eastern kids in my school, I suddenly felt out of place. In class, I only speak English, not Farsi, I drink iced coffee, not tea. Without my grandpa, It seemed as though my mainstream ways of living overpowered my Persian-ness. In my home, we may speak the language or eat Persian food now and then, however, without my grandpa, it feels different. I felt his absence at our weekly Friday night dinners. The emptiness I felt without him was like a dark shadow I could not escape. The feel of my grandparent’s apartment was now cold and lonely. I could no longer bring myself to walk to their house every day after school for tea and homework time. I missed the stories he would tell about his childhood and the songs he would teach me and my cousins. I missed the perfect cups of tea he would make me. My grandpa fought in war, endured hardship, and he survived through it all. He reminds me of my parents, who were forced to escape Iran, our native country, due to the horrible persecution they faced, and their courage in seeking religious refuge. When I looked into his bright, bold, hazel eyes, I knew what it meant to be part of my family. I know my grandfather’s memory will forever be in my heart, however, over time, my cultural identity has faded in my life. Reminders of my grandfather and my culture, in general, remind me that I must not let my culture and tradition decline, but I was not sure how to.  

Two summers ago, I visited my uncle for the first time. He lives in, Iran, which makes it difficult to see each other. My father, my uncle’s, brother had not seen him for 31 years. When I saw him, I felt once again the same loving energy that I felt when I looked at my grandpa. The first moment we all shared together was catching up over a cup of tea. During this trip, I learned so much about my uncle and my culture. His ways of life were so different from mine. Even the way he spoke our language, Farsi, sounded different. He spoke about his everyday life, such as tending to his beautiful garden, going to the marketplace, and admiring the mountains from his window. He did not speak about the immense inflation in Iran, the corrupt government, or how he was treated for his disability. My family and I knew he was struggling, and his life was difficult, however, I only admired his courage, confidence, and optimism. I felt inspired by my culture and family to be proud of my cultural roots. Spending time together reminded me of the joyfulness I felt with my grandpa. When looking at my uncle, I finally realized that my cultural identity had never faded, I just had to embrace it.  

After meeting my uncle, I had a better understanding of my cultural identity and how my relationship with chai emphasized this. Tea is more than just tea. To me, tea represents my family’s strength of love, determination, persistence, and self-reliance that I have discovered. These are the same traits that helped my parents escape Iran. These are the same traits I will learn to use when I face obstacles in my life. I am proud of my family and how far we have come. It is my obligation and desire to continue their hard work and the traditions of our culture to create the best life for myself and the next generation to come. As a first-generation Iranian American, I must appreciate the difficulties my parents faced to be given the life I have today. Tea represents my cultural identity: a blend of my Middle Eastern and American roots. I can incorporate and appreciate the connection with my cultural background, while also exploring my opportunities as an American. Now, when I take my first sip of tea in the mornings, it feels different. I walk with my head held high in school with my mug of tea. I am proud of the melting pot of culture I hold in my hand. I am proud to embrace my culture as a part of my identity. When I drink the tea, yes, I feel energized and happy, but I am also reminded of my grandpa, my uncle, and all the people in my life whom I learn most from. I am reminded of my culture which has crafted the person I am today. 

Meet The Author: Kayla Hannanian is a sophomore at St. John’s in the pharmacy program and will be graduating in 2030.