For the last few days, I've been watching videos of Iranian women taking off their headscarves and cutting their hair after the violent death of Mahsa Amini. And I'm looking for names and people I met five years ago in Iran. It was my solo trip, the crowning glory of all my previous trips to the Middle East.
Then, five years ago, I wrote on Instagram under my photo with Sepideh, the girl who helped me understand Iranian society: Two worlds, but only one door. Thank you, Iran for thousands of your kilometers of green fields, mountains, rivers and deserts, for the iftar nights and your thousands of other forms, as I mount the hidden tide and travel back home. The subject tonight is love to all of you that I met in my new home. Sepideh, Abiha, Samin, Masood, Ben, Neda, Majid... It is hard to leave when you are leaving the people who know how to share and love.
Pathetic or whatever, Iran remained for me a place that completely changed me in every way from the first moment I landed. In understanding personal biases, complications and shades of gray, resistance and courage. That's when I realized that not every veiled woman is religious. I don't think I've ever seen braver and more open people, and I'm talking about half of the country. I was amazed by the courage of women and the risk they are willing to take.
Today I became anxious about the fate of all those people and I realized that some are safe, whatever safety means in the West, but that after five years I don't even know if they exist. I want to go back to Iran and again and I stand behind every haircut, behind every rebellion, behind every dance in public. Those were my people there. Not the ones they fill your head with.
