Black on black. This is how the media and the psychopaths who believe the World belongs to them show us Iran. They put it in such a sinister tray and, of course, served like this, there is no one ready to try it.
They don’t talk about the other side of Iran. A country full of light, color, water and gardens. Full of rebellion and desire for freedom. That Iran that makes fun of Ayatollahs in the first formal conversation. (In the first informal conversation… guess what). That Iran that is absolutely contrary to the regime that oppresses it. That Iran that fears and suffers from the USA policies and sanctions but will never criticize an American person for being born where he was born. That Iran that moved to the West decades ago and, after making his life out, he had to leave behind new languages, new university degrees, new qualified professions and new family members to support and accompany his compatriots in the involution to which they were subdued. That Iran that cannot return to Iran. That Iran that meets in secret places to sing and listen to music. Children, youth, adults, seniors and forbidden music. Music about hope, struggle, dreams and freedom. That Iran that
can't put the music out loud and rolls down the car windows, in front of the police, while calling them terrorists. "Similar to those who send you", they say. While they draw a turban on their head.
That Iran making wine in the bathtub. That Iran having parties at home. That parallel Iran, from inside doors. That Iran having sex before marriage. That homosexual Iran. That Iran doing absolutely everything that is strictly prohibited. That Iran fed up with the “moral police”. That Iran that flees and shuns a religious system with medieval laws. That Iran that has poetry books in every house.That Iran that takes its children to the grave of the poet Hafez, to read his poems, before the watchful eye and the surprising silence of the little ones. That Iran always curious about foreing people. That young Iran (and not so young) to which the Islamic Republic causes as much pain as arches. The Iran that speaks to you, discusses you and argues you on any subject, despite having restricted access to almost any information. That Iran that used to leave home to drink and gets in to pray, and now goes out to pray and gets in to drink. That Iran whose architecture leaves you speechless. That Iran that is literally an empire. That Iran with a level of kindness, hospitality, respect, culture and education that surpasses any of the self-styled First World.
And above all, that female Iran. That female Iran that, with contempt and resignation, takes off its hijab every time it gets in a private place. That female Iran that, in not-very-private places, takes away your hijab (bound by law, whoever you are), while it seems to say: "Do not be more ayatolist than ayatollah." Of that female Iran that takes off the hijab in public and, in addition, posts it in social networks (also prohibited) despite the prison sentences. That female Iran that shaves its head and says to the police:" And now... why do I have to cover myself?" That female Iran that deserves all the respect, of both Muslims and non-Muslims. That female Iran that faces everything that lies ahead to live in a dignified and complete way. That female Iran that wants to study your career and can't do it. Because they are not allowed. That female Iran that, until yesterday, could not enter the stadiums. That female Iran that has to remove her makeup to go to University. That female Iran that teaches you what it is, what it impliesand what it means to be a feminist.
From the fascinating Iran that I discovered 4 years ago. That unknown Iran. From that Iran that has completely changed my way of dealing with the media. That Iran to which I will be back. That Iran that will be free of prohibitions. And free of impositions. Free of vultures. Local and foreing vultures. Those vultures who speak Farsi and those who are willing to reach them out.
They don’t talk about the other side of Iran. A country full of light, color, water and gardens. Full of rebellion and desire for freedom. That Iran that makes fun of Ayatollahs in the first formal conversation. (In the first informal conversation… guess what). That Iran that is absolutely contrary to the regime that oppresses it. That Iran that fears and suffers from the USA policies and sanctions but will never criticize an American person for being born where he was born. That Iran that moved to the West decades ago and, after making his life out, he had to leave behind new languages, new university degrees, new qualified professions and new family members to support and accompany his compatriots in the involution to which they were subdued. That Iran that cannot return to Iran. That Iran that meets in secret places to sing and listen to music. Children, youth, adults, seniors and forbidden music. Music about hope, struggle, dreams and freedom. That Iran that
can't put the music out loud and rolls down the car windows, in front of the police, while calling them terrorists. "Similar to those who send you", they say. While they draw a turban on their head.
That Iran making wine in the bathtub. That Iran having parties at home. That parallel Iran, from inside doors. That Iran having sex before marriage. That homosexual Iran. That Iran doing absolutely everything that is strictly prohibited. That Iran fed up with the “moral police”. That Iran that flees and shuns a religious system with medieval laws. That Iran that has poetry books in every house.That Iran that takes its children to the grave of the poet Hafez, to read his poems, before the watchful eye and the surprising silence of the little ones. That Iran always curious about foreing people. That young Iran (and not so young) to which the Islamic Republic causes as much pain as arches. The Iran that speaks to you, discusses you and argues you on any subject, despite having restricted access to almost any information. That Iran that used to leave home to drink and gets in to pray, and now goes out to pray and gets in to drink. That Iran whose architecture leaves you speechless. That Iran that is literally an empire. That Iran with a level of kindness, hospitality, respect, culture and education that surpasses any of the self-styled First World.
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| Isfahan (Iran) |
And above all, that female Iran. That female Iran that, with contempt and resignation, takes off its hijab every time it gets in a private place. That female Iran that, in not-very-private places, takes away your hijab (bound by law, whoever you are), while it seems to say: "Do not be more ayatolist than ayatollah." Of that female Iran that takes off the hijab in public and, in addition, posts it in social networks (also prohibited) despite the prison sentences. That female Iran that shaves its head and says to the police:" And now... why do I have to cover myself?" That female Iran that deserves all the respect, of both Muslims and non-Muslims. That female Iran that faces everything that lies ahead to live in a dignified and complete way. That female Iran that wants to study your career and can't do it. Because they are not allowed. That female Iran that, until yesterday, could not enter the stadiums. That female Iran that has to remove her makeup to go to University. That female Iran that teaches you what it is, what it impliesand what it means to be a feminist.
From the fascinating Iran that I discovered 4 years ago. That unknown Iran. From that Iran that has completely changed my way of dealing with the media. That Iran to which I will be back. That Iran that will be free of prohibitions. And free of impositions. Free of vultures. Local and foreing vultures. Those vultures who speak Farsi and those who are willing to reach them out.
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