Haleh Esfandiari Jailed in Iran
Yesterday it was reported that prominent Iran scholar Haleh Esfandiari has been jailed in Tehran’s Evin prison (which is where Iranian-Canadian Zahra Kazemi was killed). See the Esfandiari story on the NY Times and the Washington Post. She had been under house arrest in Iran since December.
Today’s LA Times has a great op-ed on what they call the “soft hostage” mistake. From the story:
Esfandiari, ironically, is the last Washingtonian whom Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad should want locked up. In a town where hard-liners on Iran appear to have President Bush’s ear, Esfandiari ran a program that was studiously balanced — so much so that some Capitol Hill conservatives groused about her bringing Ahmadinejad-friendly types to the U.S. for exchanges. Moreover, Esfandiari’s boss is former Rep. Lee Hamilton, co-chairman of the Iraq Study Group and one of the leading U.S. voices in favor of diplomatic engagement with Iran. If Tehran wanted to discourage American moderates and embolden the hawks on Iran, it could hardly have chosen a better target for illegal detention.
Esfandiari’s situation, and its potential as fuel for the war-on-Iran fire, is quite the bitter irony considering the nature of her work on Iran. We hope she’s safe and they let her go soon. Does anyone reading have any other news? Please leave a comment.
Q&A: Nahid Rachlin on Persian Girls
Nahid Rachlin is the author of several works of fiction. Her memoir, Persian Girls, was published last year. We sent her some questions about the book and about writing. Here’s what she had to say.
For readers that haven’t yet read the book, what’s it about?
PERSIAN GIRLS extends from the time of the late Shah to the present in Iran and goes back forth between Iran and America. I develop my relationship with my aunt, Maryam, who adopted me from my mother when I was six months old, and with my birth mother, after my father forcefully took me back from my aunt when I was nine years old.
My aunt couldn’t get pregnant and she had always been begging my mother, who was very fertile, if she could adopt one of her children. In fact my mother gave birth to ten children. When I was six months old my mother allowed my grandmother to take me to my aunt, who lived in Tehran, an eighteen hour train ride from Ahvaz where my parents lived. At the time my father was a circuit judge and traveled a great deal. Then when I was nine years old he decided to take me back. By then he had resigned from being a judge and started a private practice. He was more focused on his family and missed this child away from home.
A big part of PERSIAN GIRLS is also focused on the stories of my sister Pari’s and my own lives in Iran and then as we took different paths–she remaining in Iran and I coming to America. When I started living with my birth family I became very close to my older sister Pari. We both resisted the roles prescribed for us by our parents, our school, the wider society. She wanted to become an actress and I a writer, both considered undesirable for one reason or another. We were allies against our middle sister, whose dream was closer to what was expected of her.
Then I managed to come to America while Pari got trapped in a bad arranged marriage and had to give up her aspiration to become an actress and all the independence she was striving for. I was stronger and more determined than Pari, perhaps because of all the love and attention that my aunt Maryam had given to me, whereas Pari didn’t have that kind of attention from our mother.
After I had been in the U.S. for many years and witnessed the Islamic Revolution from here, I got a phone call that Pari had fallen down the staircase of her house and died. I was married then and had a child and was involved in writing and teaching but I dropped everything and went to Iran to find out more about what happened to Pari. I knew it wasn’t murder because she was with her friends when she fell but I feared it could have been self-inflicted, since she had been depressed about her life for a long time.
Why did you write Persian Girls? Who did you write it for?
I believe if I write about a subject that means a lot to me and I am passionate about the chances are I can convey it to others. So, first I wrote it for myself, and then hoped others will connect to it. For a long time I was totally obsessed by how my path went in an entirely different direction from that of my sister Pari’s. I wanted to bring her to life by writing about her.
You’ve primarily published fiction in the past. How was the process of writing a memoir different from that of writing fiction?
Writing Persian Girls was more of an emotional journey for me than writing fiction, as in it I directly confront the pain of my past. I partly wanted to bring Pari alive and partly to examine how she, like many women, become trapped by forces of traditions that are not suitable to them.
Ultimately the process was healing but not completely. I still day dream that she’s going to read the book and give me feedback as she used to when we were adolescents and I showed her the pieces I wrote.
There’s been a spate of memoirs by exiled Iranian women in recent years. As one of these women, why do you think this is happening recently? (And where are all the male voices?)
I think Americans are fascinated by the fact that Iranian women have so many problems to deal with and still many of them manage to survive and do significant things with their lives. The contradiction is puzzling and interesting to them. Iranian men’s lives don’t seem as complex and interesting.
What are you working on now?
I am always preoccupied by issues of identity and belonging. Many of my shorts stories and novels focus on those issues. In my new novel, with Iranian identical twin sisters as protagonists, I will be developing similar themes.
You’ve lived in the US for many years; how has your writing become more “American,” if at all, since your earlier years? When you write, do you think in English or Persian, and how does this affect your stories?
I don’t think my writing has changed in that respect. When I was in Iran I always read books in translation, many of them by American writers. So I was influenced in my writing, not just by Iranian writers but American ones too. By now I think in English.
Do you have any words of advice for young Iranian writers?
Write about what you are passionate about and is meaningful to yourself. If you feel strongly about a subject, the chances are you will be able to convey it well to your readers. It is best not to try to calculate and say, ‘Well, if I write about this subject, it will sell or it will reach such and such reader.
UCLA’s 17th Celebration of Iranian Cinema
This film festival is almost reason enough to move back to LA: from March 31 to May 16, UCLA is showing Iranian movies. I’m kicking myself for not remembering this was going on much sooner; only a little more than a week left! The photo above is from Mehrdad Oskouie’s Damagh Be Sabke Irani, or “Nose, Iranian Style.”
Kiosk’s “Eshgh e Sorat” (Love for Speed) with English Subtitles!
We posted this awesome Kiosk video this weekend, but its director just let us know there’s now a version with English subtitles. So if like us, you only understood about half the Persian content, click above. And pass it along to your non-Persian speaking friends! It’s such a cool look at Iran that’s not really prevalent these days.
Interviews with Young Iranians: Ali Seradge, Artist
Ali Seradge is a 28-year-old artist living in Oklahoma City. He has a B.A. in Psychology from the University of Oklahoma and a Masters of Public Health.
His artwork has been published in various journals, and hung multiple times in OVAC’s 12 x 12, LiT lounge in OKC, as well as other venues.
A selection of his work is currently on display at the Gold Dome Multicultural Society.
When did you become interested in art?
I have been interested in art as long as I remember. From cartoons, to comics, to movies to fine art. The visual and the process behind it has always been fascinating to me.
How long have you lived in Oklahoma? In the States?
I’m an Okie. I was born in Florida, then my family moved here when I was one. So, 27 years in Oklahoma. My family moved to the states in ‘75.
Living in Oklahoma, what type of Iranian community have you been able to experience? Is there any artistic Iranian presence?
Well, yeah there is a Iranian community here. Larger than most people anticipate. It is different than the bigger cities I must say. More… I don’t know the right word… blended? There is an Iranian art presence, but again, it isn’t an island. I do feel connected to the community. However, being American-born and in an area where we are incredibly integrated, there is a degree of separation for me from Iranians and from Americans.
In what ways has your Iranian background influenced your work?
Actually the previous question leads to this influence.
There is a feeling of isolation, of "almost being being there." A lot of people born in Iran say they have some urge to go back, that it feels like home. In a way, that is a bit distant for me, I don’t have that feeling. On the other hand, I still stand out among people here. There is also something my parents often said: "Be sure you can survive anywhere, you may have to move, be able to go back." I know that happened to them.
Iranian parents aren’t always known for their encouragement of their children when they pursue the arts. How did your parents respond?
Wow, again, the previous question… I think a big reason Iranians, and other foreign nationals, tend to be hesitant towards the arts as profession is a matter of survival. If you are a doctor, engineer, or professor of science there is a sense that you can get a job anywhere, regardless of location.
So, in short, they weren’t thrilled. My father is coming around. My mom still calls it "a hobby." But I guess I could tell them that there are paintings in every culture.
You are having an artist’s reception soon. Could you talk about your works, and what you are trying to achieve with them?
The body of work hanging in this show reflects the feeling of isolation I mentioned earlier. This is a fairly universal phenomenon, the idea that there is something that separates the self from the group, from community.
I felt that this was appropriate in this show for the Gold Dome Multicultural Society. Given their mission of forming stronger multicultural community, I felt it would be good to show pieces reflecting a separation of community.
Every artist has a personal "creative process," explain yours.
My trade secrets! It is actually fairly simple. I look around, read, talk to people. Given that I am a night person, nightlife has a big influence. Then I sketch, whatever comes to my head. Then I set off the paper or canvas. One of the things I took in, then sketched, will come out. After it starts, it is a matter of showing what the original emotional state was when the stimulus arrived, in order to evoke it in the viewer. The bases are laid down, then it is a lot of decision making, not excluding practical ones, such as size and materials. Actually, that wasn’t as simple as I thought.
How do you think/want other people to respond to your art?
First, I hope they DO respond. I want them to sit there and look at it, to try to figure out what the image means to them. How they identify with the characters in the work. I have an illustrative style. I like to hear the story people make for the picture. That’s why I rarely explain meanings of my work.
Finally, is there a website where we can see more of your work?
Yeah!
I am in the artists in OVAC
I’m also part of the Monkey Chainsaw Projects
I can be contacted by email: junkmonkey13[at]hotmail[dot]com
Any final thoughts?
I guess to artists out there: It is possible to live as an artist. Very possible. Scarily possible.
U.S. vs. Iran
Weekly news-roundup/email magazine Activate has a fascinating Q&A with Ervand Abrahamian about the U.S. vs. Iran standoffs of the last year. Abrahamian is a history prof at Baruch College in New York and has some great insights.
May Day in Tehran
As thousands of Iranians gathered in protest in Tehran this May Day, the usually stodgy, anti-union Wall Street Journal editorial staff was full of support.
The night before May Day, the WSJ editorial [subscription required] reported that over 80 illegal unions, bound together as the “Workers’ Organizations and Activists Coordination Council”, were organizing to protest decreasing worker’s rights in Iran. School teachers were also planning to protest, despite the beatings protesters received at a demonstration last March. The BBC reported that an increasing number of state and private employees weren’t being paid the salaries owed to them by their employers. The leader of the Tehran bus workers’ union, Mansour Osanloo, was tortured and lost part of his tongue after bus workers protested last year.
The Wall Street Journal acknowledged their atypical position, but partially justified this by alluding to an “Iranian threat”:
We do not often find ourselves on the same side as the AFL-CIO, but American unions have for decades supported people like Mr. Osanloo — and, before him, others like Lech Walesa — through the Solidarity Center, which is engaged in labor-rights issues from Zimbabwe to Iran to China. That’s a reminder that when it comes to such basic and universal issues as the freedom of association, partisanship really can end at the water’s edge. In the face of the Iranian threat — to its own people no less than to its neighbors — that’s exactly the kind of May Day solidarity we need.
While precise turn-out numbers aren’t known, it is clear that thousands of Iranians protested on Tuesday and that there were some clashes with police, though the prominent Western news sources have yet to report on the outcome.