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In the palm of Tehran's cloistered Zoroastrian compound, Priest Mehraban Firouzgary's lilting voice laces the air with ancient Persian prayers that rival Hafez's poetry in untainted sweetness. I close my eyes as the ebbing and flowing words bathe me like holy water during a newborn's baptism.

I came to Iran as a young Zoroastrian wanting to explore a civilization whose blood runs deep in my ancestors' veins. But I also came to Iran as a fledgling journalist trying to permeate a shroud of deception that engulfs this very misunderstood nation. As the hawkish debate on the "Iran Question" continues to possess Washington, most Americans’ exposure to the country is limited to photos of a bespectacled, bearded Supreme Leader and an unshaven, uncouth firebrand president. It's little wonder that playing word-association games with Iran is child's fodder in the West: hijackings, terrorists, oppression, misogynists, extremists, veils, theocracy, ayatollahs, anti-Zionist and reactionaries.

After four months of badgering the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to grant me a visa, I spent 15 days exploring my Zoroastrian identity and explaining my American nationality in one of the most complex and paradoxical countries in the world.

In America, the vast majority of mainstream media reports about Iran depict religious revolutionaries who promote warfare abroad and violate human rights at home. But Iran is a vibrant society of millions of people. It is a country where women outnumber men in universities; where the second largest Jewish community in the Middle East resides; where politics is vigorously and openly debated in the streets; where domestic films wow international audiences; where transsexuals are permitted to have sex-change operations by the decree of Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini himself; where the official dress code is very strict but often only followed in its loosest interpretation; where illegal satellites are ubiquitous and openly displayed on rooftops; where the government actively encourages contraception as a means of family planning and provides one of the only condom factories in the Middle East; where downhill skiing is a popular winter recreation in the Zagros Mountains; and, where family picnics are a favorite summer pastime in verdant gardens.

The former U.S. Embassy in Tehran is today called the “Den of Spies” and plastered with cryptic messages left by the religious revolutionaries of the late 70s: “We Will Make America Face a Severe Defeat.” I am told there are logical reasons for Iranians’ deep distrust of America. Persians have not forgotten the 1953 C.I.A.-orchestrated coup against their democratically elected president, Mossadeq, who nationalized Iran’s oil reserves much to the chagrin of the British and Americans with economic interest in the region. And they say they resent the fact that the U.S. supported the Shah who is seen as a puppet government of the West responsible for growing economic disparity and human rights violations. Of course, the recent inflammatory “Axis of Evil” rhetoric used by the Bush Administration and the equally bombastic language of Ahmadinejad has done little to salvage diplomatic relations.

Yet Iran is not a country where people seem to particularly care about one another’s nationalities or, from my experience, religion to the extent that these subjects don’t become the focus of discussions. It is a country where a lone American traveler, such as myself, is warmly embraced by complete strangers who are eager to serve an endless flow of steamy chai and Persian snacks. It is a country where a religious police officer stopped me not for a dress-code violation but to take a photo. It is a country where a Jewish woman told me she hates President Ahmadinejad but loves her homeland. It is a country where a mullah granted me an interview and answered all my questions, but respectfully declined to shake my hand because I am a woman. It is a country where people eagerly challenge the stereotypes associated with their name and genuinely desire to learn about the world beyond their borders.

Walking through a bazaar on my last day in Iran, a man called out “Where are you from?” When I replied that I’m an American, he gave me the expected surprised look and asked me if it was difficult to enter Iran; if I was scared to visit; and if I regret coming. Then he asked with a broad smile, “Did you have any idea that Iranians are this friendly?” I shook my head in the negative. I did not know Iranians were so overwhelmingly friendly, but I did know that people everywhere are similar so I certainly was not scared to find out. I think fear is the antithesis of God because it is a force that divides people who have a world in common regardless of their different nationalities and religious affiliations.