Iranian Americans in Delicate Balance: Celebrating Nowruz Amid Homeland Conflict

Iranian Americans across the country are grappling with whether to celebrate Nowruz, their traditional new year, while conflict rages in their ancestral homeland. Some see the celebration as an act of resistance, while others have canceled festivities out of respect for those suffering.

Conflict in their homeland and tensions with their adopted country have left Iranian Americans facing a difficult decision this week: whether to celebrate Nowruz, their traditional new year holiday.

Kayvon Pourmirzaie and his spouse, Behnaz Almazi, chose to mark the occasion by traveling from Philadelphia to attend a Persian pop-up dinner in New York City over the weekend. Born and raised in America after his parents immigrated before Iran’s 1979 Islamic revolution, Pourmirzaie expressed optimism about the ongoing turmoil.

“Nowruz for me this year signifies a chance to see my beautiful homeland,” said Pourmirzaie. “Even more important, I’m excited for the world to see the beauty of Iran. Nobody wants war, but this is a very strong feeling for me.”

The current U.S.-Israel conflict with Iran creates complex emotions for Iranian Americans: hope that a despised government might fall; concern for loved ones still under its control; frustration with what many view as poorly planned military action; and sometimes guilt over their own safety.

As the conflict enters its third week, Nowruz — among Iran’s most significant secular observances — brings these internal conflicts into sharp relief. The Friday celebration traditionally features dancing, music and meals centered on herb-rich foods like kuku sabzi, a frittata-style dish representing spring renewal and new beginnings.

Across America, many Nowruz gatherings have been scrapped or transformed into solemn events. Saeed Shafiyan Rad, who leads Boston’s Iranian Association, explained their decision to cancel their usual large-scale celebrations that typically draw thousands of participants.

“We want to respect the people,” said Shafiyan Rad. “We just want peace and prosperity for the Iranian people.”

While disagreements within Iranian immigrant communities aren’t unusual, the current warfare has intensified these divisions just as Nowruz draws attention to them. Young Iranian Americans, many who have never visited Iran, are particularly affected as generational differences emerge around what Iranian identity means from a distance.

Hedi Yousefi is organizing her second annual Norooz Bazaar in New York City, featuring Iranian American cuisine and artists. Despite receiving threatening messages from critics and her own doubts about appropriateness, she concluded that honoring Nowruz aligns with Iranian people’s wishes.

“For me, this is an act of resistance against the regime,” said Yousefi, who left Tehran for America 13 years ago. “My grandfather always said (the regime) would like nothing more than to stop Nowruz.”

Persian American content creator Omid Afshar has turned to his kitchen more frequently before Nowruz, experimenting with traditional Iranian dishes. The Instagram personality, who showcases Persian dining establishments at @omidafshar, sees cooking as cultural reconnection.

“Cooking Persian food has become a way to reconnect with our culture,” said Afshar. “For a long time growing up in America, I felt like I had to make that part of myself smaller so I could fit in with the rest of the world around me.”

According to Persis Karim, former head of San Francisco State University’s Center for Iranian Diaspora Studies, Nowruz feasts should provide consistency during turbulent periods. However, she finds herself unable to embrace the holiday’s hopeful message this year.

“I’m not comfortable celebrating a tradition I love because I’m so appalled by what is happening to my family in Iran,” Karim said. “Of course I wish for a change of regime. But it should come from within Iran, not from bombs from the United States.”

Brooklyn restaurateur Nasim Alikhani initially considered shutting down Nowruz celebrations at her Persian establishment, Sofreh, but ultimately reached a different decision, similar to Yousefi’s reasoning.

“Iran has been invaded throughout history … And yet Iranians kept the tradition of Nowruz alive,” she said. “I will not allow this unjust war and this aggression to win. Instead of singing and dancing around the table, maybe we will pray for peace and hold hands with our guests. But the food will absolutely be there, because there is no gathering without food.”

Persian dining establishments and markets usually experience their busiest period during Nowruz. This year, however, sales have declined in areas where public opinion opposes the military action. Conversely, in regions with strong support, particularly Los Angeles — whose massive Iranian population earned it the nickname “Tehrangeles” — business surges with each news development.

Farinaz Pirshirazi, who co-owns Los Angeles Persian restaurant Toranj, described the correlation between current events and customer traffic.

“When the war started, we had a spike. When the supreme leader of Iran was said to be dead, we had a spike,” said Pirshirazi. “Whoever came in had the biggest smile on their face, and they were crying a little bit out of joy. They were all telling us, ‘We have to go out tonight, and we have to have Persian food.'”

The current situation has also reversed some cultural customs. Following Iran’s brutal January crackdown on demonstrators, many Iranian Americans prepared halva, a sweet paste typically served during mourning periods. When warfare commenced and Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei died, they continued making the confection.

“It was a sarcastic way of sharing the joy and happiness,” Pirshirazi said. “Usually halva is something that they do at funerals, when you’re sad. But in this particular situation, it was very sarcastic, because it was a sign of joy that they were making halva.”

Anais Dersi helped organize the pop-up dinner that Pourmirzaie attended, where dishes included a pasta interpretation of tahdig, Iran’s beloved crispy rice preparation. After her Brooklyn event last month sold out within hours, she decided to host another Nowruz gathering, with both events raising funds for Iranian charities.

“The idea was bringing the community together over something. Giving people a place to mourn, to feel distraught, or whatever they were feeling,” she said. “As a first-generation American, food is a tether to my culture. I can’t always connect through politics or language, but the food feels like mine. And it feels like it belongs to others too. It’s a great unifier.”