Iranian Americans

Golnesa Gharachedaghi talks like a real soon-to-be housewife of Beverly Hills. The 30-year-old self-proclaimed Persian princess, who doesn't shy away from confrontation or dropping expletives, explains her simple tastes. "There are two things I don't like. I don't like ants, and I don't like ugly people. " Another time, the young woman who says she is eager to settle down offers a guiding principle of her active night life: "Looking good, and not repeating outfits, is imperative.

Carl St.Clair, the music director and principal conductor of Orange Country's Pacific Symphony, was a bit taken aback at one of the programming choices for the 2012 edition of the organization's American Composers Festival. This year's theme is "Nowruz — Celebrating Spring," marking the Persian New Year and celebrating the prominent Iranian American community and its vast cultural legacy. There's a world premiere of an oratorio by Iranian American composer Richard Danielpour and collaborations between the symphony and Persian music troupe the Shams Ensemble.

Before comedian Peter the Persian took the stage and joked about his immigrant father's mispronunciation of English obscenities, Nadia Babayi stepped to the front of the room and struck a more serious tone. She told the group, gathered at the Brick Building in Culver City for a cancer fundraiser, that about 300,000 Iranians were counted in the last U.S. census. She said the numbers were grossly underreported. "All of us know we are more than that. We are in the millions," Babayi said.

"When the revolution happened" are the first words we hear in "Shahs of Sunset," a new Bravo reality series about the Persian Americans of Los Angeles and Beverly Hills — six of them anyway, and their glimpsed families and supporting-cast friends. The revolution referred to is the one that took place in Iran in 1979, which helped create the sizable diaspora whose local chapter, sometimes called Tehrangeles, comprises the largest Iranian community outside of Iran. The novelty of the setting aside, we have been here before.

Iran's judiciary has "broadened" investigations of the cases of two detained Iranian Americans charged with endangering national security, saying there is fresh evidence, a spokesman said Tuesday. Prosecutors "obtained new evidence in line with the charges brought against" Haleh Esfandiari and Kian Tajbakhsh, judiciary spokesman Ali Reza Jamshidi said. "The case is under investigation," he told reporters without elaborating.

With President Bush elected to a second term, and the neoconservative architects of the Iraq war firmly in the driver's seat of U.S. foreign policy, Iranian Americans are contemplating a stark choice similar to that faced by Iraqi Americans a few years ago -- whether they want to work with Washington to liberate their home country.

The hit 1995 teen movie "Clueless" may be best known for introducing Americans to Alicia Silverstone and Paul Rudd, but first-time novelist Porochista Khakpour remembers it for another reason: It injected Iranian Americans into the U.S. pop-cultural consciousness. "There's that scene when [Silverstone's character] Cher says, 'And that's the Persian mafia. You can't hang with them unless you own a BMW.' " Khakpour, 29, delivered the line in an authoritative teen-queen squeak.

Iranian state television aired a documentary Wednesday using statements by detained Iranian American scholars to make a case that Washington was plotting to foment a velvet revolution in the country. The program, called "In the Name of Democracy," showed extensive video, apparently heavily edited, of academics Haleh Esfandiari and Kian Tajbakhsh.

The May 14 letter to writer-director-producer Wayne Kramer began on an upbeat note: "Congratulations on commencing the production of your upcoming film, 'Crossing Over.' From the details I have gathered thus far, the story line is compelling." But the president of the National Iranian American Council, Trita Parsi, soon got to the point: "I have serious concerns about the portrayal of Iranian-Americans in this film.

THREE OF THE FOUR Iranian Americans who have been detained in recent months in Iran -- Haleh Esfandiari, the director of the Middle East program at the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars; Kian Tajbakhsh, a consultant to the World Bank and the Open Society Institute; and Parnaz Azima, a reporter for the U.S.-funded Radio Farda -- have received support for their freedom from powerful organizations and people in the United States and elsewhere.

Golnesa Gharachedaghi talks like a real soon-to-be housewife of Beverly Hills. The 30-year-old self-proclaimed Persian princess, who doesn't shy away from confrontation or dropping expletives, explains her simple tastes. "There are two things I don't like. I don't like ants, and I don't like ugly people. " Another time, the young woman who says she is eager to settle down offers a guiding principle of her active night life: "Looking good, and not repeating outfits, is imperative.

For all the pride the Iranian film "A Separation" has conjured among Los Angeles Persians, not every aspect of the emotionally gripping Oscar hopeful has gone over so smoothly with the city's expats. In fact, it takes just moments for the filmmaker to alienate some of his most ardent fans here. In the opening scene, a husband and wife stare straight into the camera, presumably into the eyes of a judge, as the woman explains why she's asking for a divorce: Her husband, she pleads, refuses to flee Iran with her because he feels obligated to stay and care for his ailing father.

Spring came a bit early for the Los Angeles City Council. Bouquets of fuchsia and violet flowers filled council chambers on Friday as council members stood up, one by one, to call for rebirth, rejuvenation and renewal. They were not discussing the city's financial prospects. The occasion was Nowruz, the Persian New Year. Each March, the city's Iranian community throws a lavish Nowruz party at City Hall. In the grand rotunda outside council chambers, goldfish glided inside gilded glass urns and tables overflowed with bite-size walnut cookies flavored with rose water, cardamom and honey.

An Orange County Iranian American businessman was released from prison Saturday after 30 months behind bars, family members have confirmed. Reza Taghavi, 71, left Tehran's notorious Evin Prison and reportedly plans to return to California within a week. The Tustin resident was never formally charged or tried but was accused of passing $200 to a monarchist group called Tondar, which Iran says has been behind terrorist attacks. Taghavi said he gave the money unknowingly. Taghavi's relatives in Tustin and the San Fernando Valley declined to comment Saturday, saying they didn't want to say anything until he was safely out of Iran.

Shahbal Shabpareh and his band Black Cats — a premier Iranian American pop group — have performed American hits with a Persian twist at upper-crust Iranian celebrations almost weekly for years. They've seen lots of lavish weddings, but one stands out as the most over-the-top. As guests enjoyed hors d'oeuvres outside the banquet hall, the bride was placed in a glass coffin. The groom fitted on a white half-mask. Then, the carefully planned Phantom of the Opera theme devolved into chaos.

The host of a popular Persian-language radio talk show was accused by the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission of defrauding investors out of more than $20 million in a long-running investment scheme that targeted the Iranian American community. In a lawsuit filed Monday in federal court in Los Angeles, the SEC accused John Farahi; his wife, Gissou Rastegar Farahi; and their company, NewPoint Financial Services, of losing millions of dollars in volatile investments they had promoted as safe.

Three Sherman Oaks attorneys have joined forces to help reverse what they say is a trend of political apathy among Iranian Americans in Southern California. Shahin Sedaghat, Mehrnaz Taheripour and Vafa Khoshbin have launched an aggressive voter registration drive targeting Iranian Americans, the first of its kind for this growing community based largely in the San Fernando Valley and the Westside.

Hundreds of Iranian Americans rallied at the White House on Thursday to urge the Bush administration to step up its efforts against Iran's rulers, and to voice support for an organization banned by the U.S. as a terrorist group. The Iranians demonstrated as Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice demanded that the United Nations take action against Tehran for its nuclear development ambitions.

They awoke from the nightmare to find things were the same in the light of day. Their 17-year-old son, Aydin, was dead. Three hours after leaving home to attend a party, the student leader respected throughout his high school had flat-lined in the back of an ambulance. Hamid Salek and Azita Rezvan discussed returning to Iran. America had been Aydin's dream; South Pasadena, his kingdom. Perhaps putting an ocean between themselves and the place that held too many memories of their only child would ease the ache.

With street protests raging in Iran, political activism is on the rise among Los Angeles' already vocal Iranian American community. Flag-waving demonstrators clad in the opposition movement's signature green have been a common sight outside the Federal Building in Westwood, and Iranian-language media is abuzz with debate. But when it comes to the three young American hikers being held in Iran on espionage charges the community has been decidedly silent. No large demonstrations, little conversation, virtually no push for action.