LOS ANGELES – “Tehrangeles” in West Los Angeles is home to the largest Iranian community outside Iran.
This cultural enclave, also known as Little Persia, is where Iranian Muslims, Jews, Christians, Zoroastrians and Bahai have peacefully coexisted for decades.
But the recent war between Israel and Iran — a bloody, 12-day conflict paused by a fragile ceasefire — has brought up religious tensions and political debates that rarely surface in this culturally harmonious environment. To complicate matters, the U.S. — an ally of Israel — bombed Iran during the war.
Many Iranian Jews in the diaspora have viewed the onset of the war with “anxious glee,” said Daniel Bral, a West Los Angeles resident whose grandfather, Moossa Bral, was the sole Jewish member of parliament in prerevolutionary Iran. He sees family members and others in the community rejoicing at the possibility of their “tormentor” being vanquished.
But Bral feels differently.
“I’m just nervous and am completely rattled by everything that is happening,” he said. “I understand and sympathize with people’s hope for regime change. But I worry about the safety of civilians and the efficacy of the operation removing Iran as a nuclear threat.”
But Bral doesn’t see the war itself as a divisive issue in the diaspora because antagonism for the current regime is common across religious groups.
“This hatred for the regime actually unifies Muslims and Jews,” he said.
Cultural enclave offers a sense of grounding
Kamran Afary, a professor of communication at California State University, Los Angeles, who emigrated from Iran in the 1970s and cowrote a book about identities in Iranian diaspora, said the community, for the most part, has nursed a spirit of tolerance and respect, much like his interfaith family. While Afary is spiritual but not religious, other members of his family practice Judaism, Islam and the Bahai faith.
“Interfaith marriage used to be fraught, but even that is common now,” he said.
Afary says for him, Tehrangeles, with its row of grocery stores, ice cream and kebab shops, restaurants, bakeries and bookstores, offers solace and a sense of grounding in his culture and roots. There are about half a million Iranian Americans in the Greater Los Angeles region.
The largest wave of Iranians migrated to the area after Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi was overthrown in 1979 and Ayatollah Khomeini assumed control, establishing the Islamic Republic of Iran. West Los Angeles, in particular, has the largest concentration of Iranian Jews outside Iran.
A test for long-held bonds
Diane Winston, professor of media and religion at the University of Southern California, said Israel’s recent fight against the regime in Iran could test relationships between Iranian Jews and Muslims.
“Muslims, who otherwise would be happy to see regime change, might have felt a little differently about it because their antipathy for Zionism is strong,” she said.
Winston also observed that in the diaspora, which is concentrated in wealthy cities like Beverly Hills and Westwood, it is not just religion or culture that brings people together, but also their elevated social status.
“They go to the same schools, parties and cultural events,” she said. “In general, Iranian Muslims and Jews are not quite as religious as their counterparts back home. Los Angeles is a city where there is room to be orthodox, but also being less religious is not a problem. The less religious Jews and Muslims are, the less antipathy they may have toward each other.”
A time of fear and uncertainty
Tanaz Golshan was 2 when her family left Iran in 1986. She serves as the senior vice president of Caring for Jews in Need, the Jewish Federation Los Angeles’ service arm. She is also the organization’s liaison to the Iranian Jewish community.
Judaism for Iranians is “more cultural and familial,” Golshan said. Getting together Friday for Shabbat means having Persian Jewish dishes like “gondi,” which are dumplings served in soup.
“In my family, we didn’t grow up too religious,” she said. “We don’t think about religion when we go to a restaurant or market. You’ll find people in both communities that are extreme and don’t want anything to do with the other. But in general, we have a lot of love and respect for each other.”
And yet this is proving to be a tense and scary time for Iranian Jews in the diaspora, she said.
“What happens globally can affect security locally,” Golshan said, adding the federation’s helpline has received calls asking if there are any threats to local Jewish institutions, she said. “There is real fear that temples and community centers could become targets.”
On Monday, Golshan’s organization and others hosted more than 350 community members for a virtual event titled, L.A. United: Iranian and Israeli Communities in Solidarity.
A call for regime change in Iran
Reactions to the war have been nuanced, regardless of religious affiliations. Arezo Rashidian, whose family is Muslim, is a Southern California political activist who favors regime change in Iran. She supports the return of Reza Pahlavi, the exiled son of the shah, who has declared he is ready to lead the country’s transition to a democratic government.
Rashidian said she has never been able to visit Iran because of her activism. The only hope for her return would be for the current regime to fall. This is why the ceasefire has stirred mixed feelings for her and many others in the community, she said.
“It’s been an emotional roller coaster. No one wants a war, but we were on the brink of seeing this regime collapse. We were so close,” she said.
Lior Sternfeld, professor of history and Jewish studies at Penn State University, said Iranian Jews in the diaspora identify with Iran, Israel and the U.S., and that these identities are “often not in harmony.”
“They don’t see the Islamic Republic as Iran any more, but an entity to be demolished,” he said. “They see Israel more as a religious homeland.”
President Donald Trump enjoyed strong support in the diaspora and has now upset his backers in the community because he has stated he is not interested in regime change, Sternfeld said.
Desire for unity and common ground
There is a push, particularly in the younger generation, for peace and understanding among religious groups in the diaspora.
Bral says he is engaged in peacebuilding work through his writing and advocacy. “We are cousins at the end of the day, as clichéd and corny as that sounds,” he said.
Bral’s friend Rachel Sumekh, whose parents emigrated from Iran, grew up Jewish in the San Fernando Valley. Sumekh hosts dinner parties with her diverse group of friends as a way of widening her circle across religious lines.
In December, she hosted a gathering for Yalda, an ancient Persian festival with Zoroastrian roots, which is observed on the winter solstice as celebrants look forward to brighter days. Last year, Yalda, which also marks the victory of light over darkness, coincided with Hanukkah, the Jewish festival of lights.
“We created a new tradition bringing people of both traditions together to emphasize how much we have in common,” Sumekh said. “This war is just a reminder that as much as our day-to-day lives may be separate, there is still a lot we share in terms of culture and as a people.”
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