Reconstructed Lives

"All I know is that instead of harvesting all the seeds I had planted, I was forced to start from scratch. This should have been the period of my life when I could sit back and enjoy the results of working so hard for so many years. Instead, I had to make a new life and start a new beginning."

Monir, a lawyer and expert in women's rights under Islamic law; born in the south, she is now married with children in her 40s, living in Tehran

On Friendships with Women

"The depression the men suffer is hurting women. People who are losers cannot love anybody or show affection, so women start looking for appreciation, love and affection elsewhere. Iranian women are raised to be passive in their sexual encounters. Their pride and upbringing did not allow them to discuss their sexual needs with their spouses. Since the revolution women have started talking about sex among themselves. They talk about their frustrations and their desires. Men cannot accept this change in women, and this creates a great deal of tension between spouses."

Nayyer, a former government employee, now business owner and feminist in her late forties; married with children and living in Tehran

"All this did not take place in a normal time and atmosphere. There were arrests, executions. Our friends had left or were keeping a very low profile. Everybody was scared. One was afraid of an unfamiliar face or an unrecognizable voice. Every knock on the door made you jump. You thought, 'Maybe this time they are coming for me.'

Let me tell you a story. Once or twice a week we used to gather at a friend's house not far from the infamous Evin Prison. We sat on her balcony and usually read poetry. We could also see the prison's wall. Between the two of our gatherings, a friend was arrested and was now behind those walls, while we sat on that balcony on a cool Tehran spring night. It was not a normal situation. You could not pretend to be casual, not even in the privacy of your own home. You did not have control over any aspect of your life.

It was then that I decided I had to take the children and leave Iran. I knew there was no way my husband was going to join us. I always compare him to an ancient plane tree, with roots several hundred years old in the soil of Iran. You cannot uproot such a tree without killing it. But he suddenly got very sick, and I could not abandon him. So I decided to stay and adapt myself to this new life.

[...] The revolution turned me into a woman who is more independent than I ever was. I learned to struggle.Today, as my mother says, even when I sit on a chair I don't lean on it. I am a self-made woman who was forced to remake herself, to reconstruct her life. I am a different person. I have become bitter, cold, bad, and inside me there is a fist ready to strike back."

Masoumeh, an influential businesswoman, writer, translator, and feminist; married and living in the suburbs of Tehran in her 50s

"I have not come across the concept of solidarity among women. There is a difference between friendship and gender solidarity. Solidarity is not part of our culture. I have seen competitiveness, and I don't mind it. However, I despise jealousy, meanness, taking refuge in feminine ploys like screaming or being a woman the way the men want you to be. When we get together with other women, we just pour our hearts out. We are among friends. Of course, you show sympathy and you get sympathy in return, but this has nothing to do with solidarity."

Pouran, an American-educated writer and professor in her late 30s; returned to Iran after the Revolution, now living in a suburb of Tehran with her second husband and children

"In our private life, all our friends left. Our children left and did not return. Members of the family kept a very low profile. You could not help but worry about your next of kin. One was anxious all the time. Let me give you an example. We were twenty-five women who met socially once a month. After the revolution only five of us were left. In short, we felt very vulnerable." 

Nahid, a civil servant turned business owner through the Revolution, married to her second husband in her 50s with Grandchildren 

"Everyone has to watch our for their own individual interests. Maybe some understanding is possible among women. There are individual friendships. Women support one another—but there is no solidarity. I don't see strong ties between women who are in the same profession or among housewives. Today our lives are such that we just have to look after our own nuclear families. Even among members of an extended family, a lot of bickering goes on. At work it is worse. all this because of economic pressure." 

Nargess, a former government employee who now runs her own law office, in her late 40s living in the northern suburbs of Tehran with her husband and children

On Marriages with Men

"I got married in 1978. My husband is a very civilized person. We share the same outlook, the same feelings, and the same thoughts These should have been the best years in our lives. They turned out to be the hardest years. My husband went into a deep depression. I pretended it was easy to survive and start all over again. A number of our friends had left or were in prison. I could not make any new friends. To this day, I pull out my old friends from the bottle of my memory, and I live with them." 

Ayesha, an English-educated worker in the private sector; a religious upbringing from the north of Iran, now living in Tehran with her husband and children

"My family thinks the solution to my problem is getting married. I am a practical person. I have accepted my fate, and I don't think for a inute that my problems and the problems of other women who think like me will disappear once they get married. All I ask is to be treated decently as a human being. That is not much, is it?"

Elaheh, a single University professor with a BA from Iran and a PhD from Germany; "a sense of desperation [...] as if she is trying to escape a whirlpool that is gradually sucking her in" 

"What men don't want to understand is that because f the way our society is structured, a lot of women accomodate their husbands only because married women have an easier social life. It is a price women have to pay." 

Shokouh, a physician and businesswoman; married in her fifties with a spacious house and "an interesting collection of primitive paintings on glass"

"Men are really awful; they are rotten. They are selfish and unappreciative. They don't understand what women want. as for me, I can see through any man. The society and system here are such that men are always on the lookout for women to pick them up. It is disgusting. You see that at work, in the streets, and at gatherings of friends.

On the other hand, men are a necessity in the Islamic Republic. As a woman you need the shadow of a man over your head, I mean in the abstract sense. The man gives you protection form other men. But in real life, men are not an essential part of a woman's life. They are not indispensable. In short, a woman needs her husband to change a flat tire. Men are no longer the decision makers, whether at work or at home. If you are a competent woman, men are more than happy to abdicate all their responsibilities to you. But they also expect you to respect them. How can a woman respect a spineless man?

Let me put it to you this way: if I were single today, I would take a lover rather than a husband. if today in Iran women seek sexual freedom, men are to be blamed. Men don't understand that women not only need love and affection but also sexual satisfaction and pleasure." 

Lili, a medical technician and secretary with a high school education; married with children in her mid-thirties.

"Once I was walking in the park with my husband. A hezbollahi came  up to us and told me to wear my scarf. I refused. He turned to my husband and said, 'Have you no honor?' My husband answered, 'Don't talk to me, talk to her.' The guy started shaking with rage and calling my husband all sorts of names."

Touran, an American-educated feminist, researcher, and collector in her mid-thirties; returned to Iran after the Revolution.

"I believed Ayatollah Khomeini would come and settle in Qom. I wanted the revolution to win. I was hoping for some justice and equality. I only saw the secular side of it, not the religious one."

Nazanin, a European-educated writer in her 50s; single and living with her mother in the suburbs of Tehran

"I believed in the people. The first year of the revolution was the best year of my life and that for the country. There was a deep and palpable feeling of brotherhood, equality, solidarity, and unity among the nation. It was like a dream. But over the year the dream gradually faded away. Maybe if my knowledge of religion had been greater, I would have been more realistic and less of a dreamer."

Atefeh, a business-owner throughout the revolution (30 years); widowed with children and the child herself of divorced parents (raised by her father)

"I was a high school student when the revolution started. We lived in Abadan in the south. We were an ordinary Iranian family with religious inclinations. The family observed the fast, made donations to the poor, etc. My mother's family was more religious. The women wore the chador. at school we did not discuss politics. It was as if Abadan were drowning in a sea of silence. 

The first time i heard about Ayatollah Khomeini was when he left Iraq for France. My cousins in Tehran were more political. They knew about Shariati. They read his books and listened to his tapes. They even started observing Islam more seriously.

[...] I don't have any memories of the Shah leaving Iran. But I wanted the revolution to succeed. The day the barracks fell in Tehran, I remember being on the street in Abadan. It was a sunny day, people were distributing the Iranian flag and offering sweets. I thought if there is such a thing as heaven on earth this must be it."

Manijeh, private worker and writer on women's issues; single in her early 30s and living with her parents

"A vivid memory for me was to see my husband's picture in the paper, renouncing his religion. He was not a Muslim of course. Well, this was a facet of the revolution you learned to live with."

Lili, a medical technician and secretary with a high school education; married with children in her mid-thirties

"Unlike other women you have talked to, the revolution was not an earthquake, nor did it create an upheaval in my life. We were a traditional family and welcomed the revolution. I am who I am because of the opportunities the revolution gave me and people such as myself."

Nasrin, a journalist and writer in her mid-thirties 

Sources

• Isfandiyārī, H. (1997). Reconstructed lives: Women and Iran’s Islamic Revolution. Woodrow Wilson Center Press ; Johns Hopkins University Press. 

• Image credits: BBC