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Israeli strikes on Iran stir anxiety in LA's ‘Tehrangeles': ‘We're worried 24 hours a day'
In uncertain times in Persian Square, in the Iranian enclave on the west side of Los Angeles, there is always hope – and ice cream.
Farbod 'Freddy' Papen is happy to dole out scoops of cucumber ice cream at Saffron and Rose, just as his grandfather once did in the same neighborhood affectionately known by many nicknames: Little Tehran, Tehrangeles, or Little Persia.
But for a week now, the joy of serving colorful Persian dessert has been tempered by a sense of dread over the growing devastation in the Papen family's homeland of Iran.
Every morning since Israel launched its attack on Iran, Papen, 38, has been scanning the headlines, anxious for updates on the escalating hostilities between both countries. So far, his family members in Iran are safe.
'Who knows what's going to happen tomorrow?' said Papen.
Papen's family established roots in Los Angeles before the 1979 Iranian Revolution led to a significant growth in the Iranian American population, he said. His mother has long dreamed of returning to Iran.
'God forbid something bigger escalates from where we stand now,' he said. 'She might not ever get that chance to see her cousins that she grew up with, and nieces, and nephews.'
Southern California is home to the largest Iranian diaspora in the world, and in this West Los Angeles neighborhood, Iranian Americans have built a tight-knit community. One of the main thoroughfares, Westwood Boulevard, is lined with Persian grocery stores, bakeries and restaurants that preserve the tastes and traditions of a faraway homeland. For residents and community members, it's more than a place – it's a cultural hub and a meeting point of diverse identities and histories.
The Iranian diaspora in the US is diverse. After the Iranian revolution led to the establishment of an Islamic Republic in 1979, a wave of Iranians fled to the US. They, and the subsequent generations of Iranian Americans, have varying levels of connection to their ancestral homeland, said Kevan Harris, a historical sociologist and author of A Social Revolution: Politics and the Welfare State in Iran.
Today, a third of Iranian Americans in the US today are first-generation who grew up under the Islamic Republic, Harris added.
A diverse diaspora means a multiplicity of opinions about the escalating conflict – in addition to the anxiety over the threats to their homelands, some Iranian American community members expressed hope for a regime change. Others are worried about potential backlash or scapegoating of their community if the US enters the conflict.
'I think everyone's pretty much glued to their TVs and their news media to figure out what's going to happen next,' said Sean Tabibian, 53.
For many of the neighborhood's residents, the uncertainty is amplified by the complexities of intersecting identities – Tabibian has family members living in Iran and in Israel. On Wednesday, while Donald Trump was still undecided on the possibility of the US joining Israel's assault, he said he was hoping for regime change in Iran.
One business owner, who asked to remain anonymous out of fear of reprisal by the Iranian regime, asked an existential question: 'Who do you root for?'
She is Persian and Jewish and has family members who live in Israel, so she worries about the possibility of Iran launching a nuclear attack on Israel – the place that her other family members also call home.
'You're worried about this side. You're worried about that side. We're just worried 24 hours a day,' she said.
Harris, the sociologist, said that while many Iranian Americans supported the anti-government protests sparked by the death of Mahsa Amini in 2022, the backdrop to the conflict between Israel and Iran is different, and the community is less united in its hopes for the future.
'Israel's air campaign and the possibility of US direct attack on Iran frame not only the government but the national territory [as] a target of foreign attack,' said Harris. 'Some in the diaspora rally around Iran's right to defend its territory – even though they claim to loathe the regime – while others outside dream that foreign coercion will hasten internal regime change.'
Amid the heightened anxiety, Rabbi Refael Cohen, the senior rabbi at Sephardic Temple Tifereth Israel, a synagogue in the Westwood neighborhood, said he and his members have been praying for peace and stability for Israel. At the same time, he wants to see Iranian people live freely.
'I think there is a mutual understanding that the same anxiety and the same fear that the civilian people feel in Iran, in this time, is the same feeling that the civilian people feel in Israel in this time,' said Cohen, 53. 'Both of them are suffering.'
A few blocks away from the Saffron and Rose ice cream shop, marines are stationed in front of a federal building as part of Trump's order to protect immigration agents. For Papen, it's another signifier of uncertainty.
Through all the difficulties, he just opened a new ice cream shop location in Del Mar, California.
'What are the odds of this?' Papen said wryly. 'The timing of our new store opening up right when what looks to be a full-blown war is starting.'
But he must keep the ice cream moving, just like his grandfather once did – while keeping vigilance over the rapid developments in the Middle East.
'For me, it doesn't make a difference whether a bomb gets dropped in Tehran or gets dropped in Tel Aviv,' said Papen. 'These are people's lives that are being sacrificed.'
