Iran and Me: A Saga of Separation

My father’s family left Iran in the wake of the Islamic revolution in 1979. My grandfather had an American mother, but my grandmother's family has traceable roots in what is today Iran for at least 7,500 years. Today almost none of her family remains there. I have never visited this country of my heritage and all I know of it is the tainted perception forged for me through its language which I speak, the stories and traditions passed down, the horrors taught to me in school, and the faded photographs from the autobiography my grandmother wrote. As I scrolled through the news I saw the crowds of Iranian women bare-headed in public for the first time since their childhood; women who would jeopardize their lives and futures for the chance of being viewed equal to men. Their photos were everywhere online: masses mustered together to fight for the freedoms I exercised so carelessly. But I felt confused. And I wondered: what would drive someone to risk their life for a cause?

My name is Stella Saleh, and I am a third-generation Iranian American. While this comprises a significant portion of my identity, I have always struggled to connect with this unalienable aspect of myself. Iran is a controversial topic in America. Just using the word Iran can evoke either a smile of happy nostalgia of a flashing glare of disapproval. From a young age, my father taught me to use the word “Persian” when referring to my heritage. “It makes people feel more comfortable”, he said, warning me that “Iran” didn’t always connote positive associations with it. 

Nevertheless, growing up, while I was aware of the justifiable negative aspects of modern Iranian history, my family always reinforced the positive. We celebrate Nowruz, or Persian New Year, which is a celebration of life and family, every vernal equinox. My parents cooked the mouthwatering Kabob Koobideh and prepared fresh Salad Shirazi for family and friends. I attended Persian Preschool for years where I sang Persian songs, read short stories in Farsi, and chatted with Iranian-American kids my age.

Most importantly, I learned about the beauty of the Iranian people. While many may think of “hostility”, my family taught me about Iranian “hospitality”. Iranians are famous for their generosity, friendliness, and culture of taarof, the practice of always being the one to offer service even at personal sacrifice. Even in America, I have experienced this time and time again when connecting with Iranian-Americans. They are the kindest and most helpful individuals who have greatly shaped my academic background. I always beamed with pride when guests who had traveled to Iran would stay with us and recount stories of the benevolent Iranians they had crossed paths with.

One can imagine how shocked I was when, in my ninth-grade history class, I was lectured on the detrimental effects of “Iran and other Arab countries” on national security. Watching videos of Iran in history class, I felt so disconnected from my heritage. I comforted myself by affirming that my teacher knew nothing about Iran, but then what did I know? I had never visited the country myself, and my family hadn’t either in my lifetime. Nonetheless, I still mustered up the confidence to correct the teacher when he said “I-Ran” instead of “Iran” for the umpteenth time, meanwhile ignoring the furtive glances shot my way upon learning of my background.

For years this has been my challenge, and I’ve always believed that I couldn’t change my conflicted outlook on Iran. But this summer, I decided otherwise. I had been following the Woman, Life, Freedom, protests for some time and was drawn to the themes of feminism and liberty. Unfortunately, without connections in Iran, and due to heavy censorship, I could only learn about the protests from the lightly-treading media coverage. Or so I thought.

Beyond my multicultural background, music is a significant pillar of my identity. I have played piano since age five, am an avid trumpet player, and see the world through music. My father has long asserted that music, “Is a universal language” that transcends borders. I remember using these words in a radio interview and the sound technician was so touched that she “wrote it down to never forget”. Music is a potent antidote to stress, a funny anecdote when one is bored, but also an amplifier for social issues. In school and at home, I have pursued the first two uses of music, but it wasn’t until this project that I explored the third.

Music has long been a vessel for expressing protest. Unlike books or legislation, one does not need to be literate or have a degree to understand the themes portrayed in song. Today, music is accessible, popular, and easy to create. It's free and people can follow their stars online as they drop new releases. As times change, artist activists manipulate the reachability of music by writing songs about pertinent issues and it is these songs that become the anthems for social movements. With my musical background and Iranian heritage, it was only fitting that I would expand my knowledge of the recent protests through exploring the lyrics of the most popular protest music.

In this research paper, I have selected seven significant songs of the Woman, Life, Freedom movement. Alongside the original Farsi, I have translated the lyrics to English and diligently analyzed them for common themes, allusions, and qualities. My goal was to uncover connections between the songs that provide unique insight into the Iranian Condition. The greatest challenge has been combatting censorship. Many of the artists whose songs I researched have been jailed or banned from creating more music. The Iranian government carefully filters through all published music for appropriate content. This was more effective before the expansion of social media and the internet, but the government can still block songs on these sites. Today, songs can go viral in a matter of days which is both productive and dangerous for “underground” songwriters who are reaching a wider audience.

The popular music of Iran is an immediate reflection of the values, current state, and aspirations of the Iranian people. While I may not yet understand why Iranians are willing to risk their lives for a chance at freedom, by listening to their music I may get a little closer to understanding the country to which I am forever linked.