Opening to the introduction of Satrapi for the first time, and reading “Iran”, all I have known of this country rolled through my mind. When I imagine Iran, I picture images of sand, dust, desert, destruction, the rubble of buildings, and of men, in headdresses/scarves, in conflict and at war. I flipped back to the cover and noted the subtitle of the book, “The Story of a Childhood”. As strange as it sounds, I was confused by this subtitle, for, I had never imagined children in Iran.
Continuing my reading, and progressing deeper into astonishment and confusion with every new frame in the graphic narrative, I began to ask people what they thought of when they heard “Iran”. Wondering if I was the only one so ignorant of this Middle Eastern country, I began by asking my roommates. Their answers mirrored my view. I then asked classmates and more students… And so far, I have received more of the same. A few people have demonstrated more knowledge, having heard of the Shah in one instance, or knowing of the Theocracy that rules over Iran in another.
I was born in 1998. I have lived through the years of the 9/11 attacks in the United States, the war in Iraq, experienced the rise of Islamophobia, the war in Syria, ISIS and the upheaval of people and unrest in countries through most of the Middle East. Before Persepolis, every news report, image, video and conversation I had heard of and seen involving Iran, Iraq, Pakistan, or Afghanistan, had been of conflict and war.
Persepolis opens with a short explanation of the history of Iran. I was completely unaware of this history. Satrapi says that “[Iran] has been discussed mostly in connection with fundamentalism, fanaticism, and terrorism.” She is correct. I have not heard or imagined this country in any other way, and I suggest that much like me, many other Western citizens share similar views and have simply accepted what has been presented. I found myself filled with a curiosity and eagerness to learn more. I didn’t know what to expect when she continues the introduction and says, “As an Iranian who has lived more than half of my life in Iran, I know this image is far from the truth.” I was certainly interested for her to share, to tell me more! …
The book has since surprised me consistently.
On the first page of the story, Marji is at school and ‘the veil’ is introduced. I had never before imagined a school in Iran, and it was eye opening to see images of these girls playing around with and joking about their veils. Whenever I had pictured a veil, or as I have known it, a hijab, burka, or simply headdress, I have pictured it on a grown woman, never young girls. This was only the very beginning of my confusion. Thankfully, my confusion would yield to astonishment and a growing awareness of the people of Iran and their culture.
On page six, a frame is captioned: “Because my father had a Cadillac.” This really caught me off guard. A Cadillac? In Iran??? I would have never imagined such a thing. The story goes on to reveal that her father works in an office building as an engineer, and Marji’s mother wears everyday clothing. At one point, Marji asks her parents to play Monopoly with her, and this is in the middle of the Islamic revolution. Such a regular, relatable request seems not to fit the rest of the unsettling picture. I never knew, or even considered, the fact that a family so similar to my own could exist in my preconception of this country. However, here they are, living in a perfectly regular home, and her parents are wearing regular clothes, and it all looks quite similar to my life as a child. Looking further into this new found reality of the country of Iran, I googled pictures. Pictures of magnificent and beautiful cities and buildings appeared. Again, I have never imagined.
While I am astonished and surprised by the similarities and the relatable life Satrapi portrays in her childhood, a fundamental and heartbreaking difference is the life she experiences outside the comfortable confines of her home, in her broader society. At a very young age she faces many horrors I cannot imagine: worrying about her parents being taken to jail; living under a controlling theocracy; having family, friends, and neighbours being executed; hearing recollections of torture; witnessing massacres; and, having to escape imprisonment and the dangers of war herself. These are the atrocities that Marji faces. Through these images, some of the ideas of Iran that I began with are validated; however, they are exceedingly more traumatic than I ever imagined, especially through the eyes of young Marji at the ages of 10 to 14.
Satrapi was right. It was important to write this book to dissipate the ignorance that surrounds her country. While I am still learning and digesting her story and the story of Iran, this is in fact, what the book has done for me. My eyes have been opened to a new understanding of Iran.
Photo Links:
https://www.google.ca/search?rlz=1C5CHFA_enCA754CA758&biw=1280&bih=575&tbm=isch&q=tehran+night&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjOtuzw-fPWAhUJ22MKHe0DBskQhyYILw#imgrc=ut7EJzkAWn0chM:
http://www.al-monitor.com/pulse/originals/2015/05/iran-afghan-refugees-education-discrimination.html
