I am of Iranian origin, immigrated to a western country several years ago, and have visited my birth country only a few times since.
A young (teenager) relative of mine (lived all her life in the west), decided to do a school project about women's rights in Iran. She asked me (and several other family members) to share a personal experience of life in Iran which was related to our human rights.
So I shared this below. After reading it, my young relative was very upset, and said she would have liked to (figuratively, I hope!) kill that guard.
I said I think she missed the point, the guard was actually being kind to me. (at least, that's how I felt then).
What do you think?
Most people know that in Iran, women have to cover their hair and their body when they go outside, leaving only their hands and faces uncovered. In government buildings, the dress code is much stricter: women are not allowed any make-up, and their clothes have to be much more modest and covered than usual.There are guards outside government building who,apart from security, also control what women are wearing, and if they feel a women is not covered modestly enough, they can refuse her entrance.
A few years ago, I had to visit the passport office to renew my children's Iranian passports. Mindful of regulations, I dressed extra modestly, with a large loose dark scarf and coat concealing my hair and figure, and no make-up. However, I forgot to wipe off my nail polish.The guard at the entrance of the office stopped me, and said I was not allowed to enter with painted nails. I was upset- we didn't have a lot of time in Tehran, and it was a full day to get to the passport office and back. Seeing how upset I was, the guard relented. He gave me a pair of gloves, and said if I put them on and kept my hands covered, I could enter the building.
Looking at the gloves, I shuddered. Originally white, they were now a filthy grey. They were also too big for me. But I dare not refuse. I drew on the disgusting gloves over my hands. I could feel my skin prickle and start to itch. I reminded myself that it was my own fault for disobeying the regulation. I reminded myself I was there for my children. Like millions of Iranian women, bullied and harassed everyday, remind themselves. It is their own fault. And they have to obey the laws, for their children, for their parents. So, with a will of steel, I entered the passport office, thanking the guard for his courtesy in helping me and allowing me to enter.