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Autobiographical Reflections: My Story

I have never shared my story in such detail with anyone. I am sharing it now because I

want to have the power to help people, in a way that nobody helped me during my most difficult

times. I want people to know that even under great difficulties, people can try to make their way,

to become powerful in ways previously unimaginable.

might appear and save her from the asylum that we called “home”. Of course, he never showed

up because he was busy with women and drugs all the time. My aunt got married when I was

four years old to a man twelve years older than she, because my grandparents advised her to

choose him. When I grew up, she told me that she couldn't even bear his smell when he tried to

kiss her for the first time. My younger uncle was only six years older than me, and I used to think

that he was my brother because he was our playmate. He also faced so many issues in the house

because my older uncle often beat him.

took me to some dark and damp narrow alley, took out his penis, and asked me to lick it” said

my sister. The worst part for me was to find out that everyone in the family was aware that my

older uncle abused my sister, but they did not act on it. I also realized that my grandfather had a

stroke partly because he found out about what had happened between my older uncle and my

sister. My older uncle never dared to approach me, however, because I was the apple of my

grandparents’ eyes. However, when I was four years old, I was abused by someone in the family

whose name I cannot reveal because it will cause me trouble, still to this day. As a child, I often

witnessed my sister being beaten nearly to death by my older uncle for not being obedient

enough when she was only 10 years old. He required us to wear a scarf even though we were not

yet of an age where we had to wear a veil. No one in the family bothered to stop my older uncle

to another city, Isfahan, and start things over. Within some years, I noticed that my body was

changing, and I started to have my period. I was growing up rapidly, and it was difficult for me

to control my emotions. I experienced my first emotional relationship with a boy when I was

thirteen years old. I call it an emotional experience, because I never had any physical relationship

with guys until I was nineteen years old. After my grandmother found out about my emotional

relationship, she got so mad that she said she did not want to have my sister and me in her house,

and so we left. My older uncle agreed to have us in his home for a while; hence, we left our

school and went to Tehran-the capital of Iran-to live with him. As soon as we arrived there, he

punished us for being in relationships with guys by whipping us to the point that our bodies bled.

He enjoyed whipping us so much that he did it again from time to time for different reasons. He

sister to his house without mercy. My sister could not finish high school because she changed her

place of residence, from one to another and finally, she got married at the age of nineteen to a

horrible my sister's situation is, no one offers to help. Not only has the family refused to help her,

but they all abandoned her a long time ago.

Despite all the difficulties, I got accepted in a high-ranking university. It was then that

my troubles with boys began. Many of my female friends were scared that their boyfriends

would want to be with me; accordingly, I never had the opportunity to develop close female

friendships. On the other hand, I could not be friends with guys because in most cases they

wanted to be more than just a friend or only to have sex with me. There have been many times I

have been threatened by men whom I rejected, and some have even tried to molest me. They

knew I had no sources of support and the law does not work for my benefit. Moreover, some of

the professors were unkind to me, because I refused to cover my hair completely. Additionally, I

had some professors who tried to flirt with me, and since I showed no interest, they used their

married. Yet, his family did not agree for many reasons and after a long period of arguing, he left

me. I had many proposals, but most of the time their families did not consent, because I was an

orphan, and I did not have a rich family, so they believed I was not good for their sons. In many

cases, the families thought that because of my beauty, I must be vain. In their views, I could not

be smart or sophisticated, because I am attractive, which is a common belief. I felt crushed. No

place on earth seemed to be a safe place for me.

I experienced so much sexual abused during my 20s. Even though society blames women

when they are sexually abused for dressing provocatively, I had experienced sexual abuse in the

street even when I wore no make-up and had on the simplest clothes possible. For instance, there

were many times when strange men took their penis out in the car and asked me to get in while

After finishing my B.A in English literature, I started my master’s education in the same

major, and I found a job as an English instructor in a language institution. As soon as I started

preferred his mother to his wife and children, and I saw me, a twenty-year-old woman who had

been abused emotionally, physically, and sexually many times in her life. Hence, I started to read

about feminism. I demanded guidance from my professors; however, not only did they have

limited knowledge, but they also misled me with misinformation about women’s studies. Many

of my professors thought that the field of women’s studies was nonsense, and I was only

interested because of my unhappiness. Many others thought that I was being seduced by western

advertisements on the subject. I decided to ignore them and downloaded as many resources as I

could. I started with The Second Sex by Simon de Beauvoir; I familiarized myself with the waves

of feminism, and then I started to read manifestos and numerous pieces of literature from

feminist thinkers of each wave. I taught myself gender studies concepts, the aesthetic of

feminism, and the situation of Iranian women through history. I developed an interest in writing

essays and attended conferences on women’s studies in Iran. No professor in my university ever