“jaan man fadaayeh khaake paake meehanam — i give my life to the sacred soil of my country”
When I heard of Jhina (Mahsa) Amini’s murder in Tehran last year, I was moved to join many rallies organized by an anonymous group of Iranians in Minneapolis. I needed to be in community somewhere. I hadn’t participated in anything organized by Iranians for over two decades. This was a calling of sorts.
I walked along many younger and very recent immigrants. I absolutely fell in love with them and a part of me saw my younger self in all of them. I remembered yearning to have a community with people of my own heritage outside of my new life in Minneapolis, especially at moments when my heart was pulled so strongly towards the land where I grew up in. I started thinking of how/if I can be the one to create a community for women of Iranian heritage.
About eight months after many rallies, the somewhat anonymous group revealed itself. They organized meetings and welcomed all who were interested. I had already spent months planning and organizing a group for women of Iranian heritage to study Iran’s history under the principles of Cultural Wellness Center, a community I’ve been studying with for almost three years. We had had two meetings, so I felt obligated to find out more and possibly collaborate in harmony with building community.
At the beginning of the first meeting, Iran’s anthem was played. Everyone within the circle rose, some with their hands on their hearts. I couldn’t stand. The hesitation was so strong. After living in America for forty five years, I feel no belonging to a country. As a matter of fact, I have a strong sense of belonging to all humanity, no borders. So, I sat amongst over thirty some people during the anthem. I heard once again one of the lines of this anthem — which I loved as a young girl growing up in Tehran — speaking of giving up one’s life for ‘our’ land.
I was grateful for not rising up, but I still deeply resonate with the love of land. Except today, the land is one. Today, it is all of this planet we call earth that is sacred to me.
Within my Iranian heritage, there is a strong tendency for individuals to speak for each other. During our introductions — as many of us didn’t know each other — I heard more than once ‘we’ followed by generalizations of how this circle of individuals who mostly didn’t know each other, are all one. The part of me that has always resisted the ‘we’ had to respond during my own introduction. After introducing myself and explaining why I didn’t get up during Iran’s anthem, I clearly stated that I see no reason why I should trust anyone in the circle. Iranian history is marred by betrayals and why would anyone in the circle just assume we’re one group? I did receive a couple of dubious looks. However, after the meeting, I met some fabulous younger immigrants who spoke with respect and with whom I felt such strong resonance.
I attended one other meeting. During that meeting, the language of hierarchy deeply embedded in patriarchy was so clear that I recognized that I had no interest in participating.
Four months later, it has been revealed that one individual — perhaps more — is an active participant of a political group that is highly questionable and very much despised by many. Some knew about it. Most didn’t. It has broken the hearts of many. My own history of observing Iranian groups for the past four decades taught me long ago not to have a casual ‘trust’ in anyone. Only time and action builds trust for me.
Betrayal.
Universal by all who can only see themselves with power over others and who want to think and speak for others.
In our divided world, I will keep on building and gathering a community of women to study the history of our heritage and curious to understand why and when did we lose trust, community and support of each other?
I invite all who have any Iranian heritage to join our group.
“never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed individuals can change the world. In fact, it’s the only thing that ever has.” ~Margaret Mead
