The Lion Women of Tehran

When I am surrounded by books, I feel most at peace.

While to our eyes, waves appear suddenly on the shore, their abruptness is an illusion. Waves begin their journey thousands of miles out at sea. They accumulate shape and power from winds and undersea currents for ages. And so, when you see the women in Iran screaming for their rights, please remember that the force and fury of our screams have been gathering power for years.

That's how losses of rights build. They start small. And then soon, the rights are stripped in droves.

It was books. I read and read. Went to the library as much as I could. And to bookstores. Lost myself in books. Did you know that books can heal you? They helped restore me.

Ocean waves begin their journey thousands of miles out at sea. Their form, size, and shape come from the speed of prevailing winds in the atmosphere, the power of currents hidden beneath the sea, and their “long fetch”—the distance between a wave’s point of origin and its point of arrival… Events that seem to appear in the present from out of nowhere in actuality have a long history behind them. George Lipsitz, Footsteps in the Dark Part One

Lionesses. Us. Can't you just see it Ellie? Someday, you and me — we'll do great things. We'll live life for ourselves. And we will help others. We are cubs now, maybe. But we will grow to be lionesses. Strong women who will make things happen.

I recently read a theory about ocean waves. This theory says that while to our eyes waves appear suddenly on the shore, their abruptness is an illusion. Waves begin their journey thousands of miles out at sea. They accumulated shape and power from winds and undersea currents for ages. And so when you see the women screaming in Iran for their rights, please remember, dear Leily, that the force and fury of our screams have been gathering power for years.

And then. We lost touch. Our bond should have been impossible to fray and then disintegrate. But as time took us each in a different direction, it was astonishingly simple for our connection to dissolve.

Remember above all to always love. Love madly

My baba says the only society worth living in is one where everyone has access to food, shelter, clean water, and health services.

You know what we’ll both become when we grow up? … Shir zan. Lionesses. Us … Strong women who make things happen.

You skipped our country’s slide back into medieval times. Women have lost decades, no, centuries, of rights in this country.

Doesn’t matter who owns the rug workshops,” Homa went on. “It’s the women who do the knotting. It’s women doing the weaving. The art of Iranian women is scattered throughout the world. Their work is everywhere.

When my life was no longer anything, Nothing but the tick-tock of a wall clock, I discovered that I must, That I absolutely had to Love madly. Forugh Farrokhzad, The Window

And yet. Ours was a friendship worth saving. Worth keeping. Worth protecting. For I knew Homa’s heart was pure. I admired her inability to ever be fake. She was the most authentic person I knew. And I valued our friendship too much to let this recent argument stymie us.

That’s how losses of rights build. They start small. And then soon, the rights are stripped in droves.

Let them beat me with their batons, let them bruise my body to a pulp, let them shoot and kill me. For a lifetime we have fought. We have fought and fought and fought. We want to be free. We want to be equal. We want to be able to live our lives.

Blame the relief that comes when someone who’s disappeared from your life reappears and conjures up the same magic and re-creates a longed-for connection.

But the truth is I so prefer the bravery of your generation of women. That’s what I admire. You’re not afraid. You’re fierce. You and your friends are shir zan!” The Persian phrase that translates to “lion women”.

... I look at you ... and I wish for you not the world, nor the owning of it, nor even success in it. I wish for you the ability to be free. And I hope that you experience some moments so tender and dear that they make up for a thousand harsh ones. Remember above all to always love. Love madly.

No matter where you go or how far you travel, when you are in a place of substance, the floor is covered with the rugs of our country. The artwork of our land. Which means really, in all these places, you are with the labor of Iranian women.

Homa wanted to pour her life into politics. I wanted to enjoy a life devoid of it. Even though I knew that was an impossibility in Iran.

How long will she be here, in this country where no one can pronounce her name?

She said the words I had secretly longed to hear for years. The words I had waited all this time to hold in my cupped hands. I felt a heavy burden simply burst, what mattered was I was with Homa, what mattered was I loved my friend and would love her until the end of our days.

I had assumed [her] bravado was masking deep pain and suffering. But as we sat in that hospital room, I realized [her] bravado wasn't masking her pain. It was because of it. She would fight. Always and forever.

As I looked at her, my heart swelled with what was nothing less than love. She was imperfect, striving, shallow, and infuriating. And yet. She had suffered in ways she had hidden from me for my entire life so far. She did, in her own way, love me more than anything. That much I knew. That much I sensed in every fiber of my soul. That much would always be true. And it would have to be enough.

Your eyes are beautiful, so they see beauty,