I am an honored member of a burned generation…a generation who lost precious days of their youth to a movement which was originally hoped to navigate us to better days… Quite on the contrary, we became the innocent victims of our parent’s hope for freedom.
We grew up during the days that the only freedom was our limitless imagination. We, like other teenagers around the world, idolized Michael Jacksons and Madonnas; put their posters up on our bedroom walls and danced to their music….My son does that too. His idols are different…but the biggest difference is that he is not pressured to be ashamed of or feel guilty of his young emotions….We were!
Brain-washing was the number one priority of the education system of our time. Our brilliant, young brains were filled-up with twaddle, fairy-tale events of 1400 years ago and were forced to idolize mythical creatures. Thinking and analyzing were out of question…there were clear-cut rules for Morality; don’t follow them and you end up burning in “Hell” if not in the principal’s office. …The structured limits of morality were very narrow and the punishments significant: from being suspended from school because of enjoying an ice-cream while laughing with friends outside the school, to being taken to prison and beaten to death because of hanging out with the opposite sex.
I purchased my very first lipstick when I was 14. It was a light shade of pink with sparkly glitters. I loved to wear it to the world, to the boys…. just like any other teenage girl. I ended up wearing it only at home and admiring my young image in the mirror….Pathetic! ..but Wearing make-up was a shameless behavior and the consequences were harsh.
The university years were even worse. Our complicated minds were challenged with the philosophy of religions and cramming on obligatory courses of:
انقلاب اسلامی و ریشههای آن
Talking to our male classmates was a big No No…When a young, passionate man among my classmates, wrote me a Love Letter, I was the one who ended up being punished…of course, I had obviously shown some “provocative” behaviour…maybe showing a few strands of hair, or a glimpse of an ankle….Shame!
Today’s Iranian youth are by far braver than what we were. They are standing up for their rights and fighting for their true freedom. Maybe, they are not as scarred and traumatized as we were….but, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that they have a voice. Our hats off to them.
For us, the burned generation in exile, fighting is Virtual…if we can even call it fighting.
To me, is more like a decades-kept “Shout” that is flowing out of our mouths. It’s just a long-postponed “Cry”….The true warriors are back home.
To me, this is more like a personal revenge. A Revenge for my lost youth, a revenge for my changed fate, a revenge for my brave Uncle who sacrificed his precious youth for his freedom…and a revenge for my late honourable Grandfather who spent his senior years visiting his “jegar gooshe” in the notorious “Evin” and raising a fatherless toddler.
I Will Not Shut Up…
