Iran - Not So Far Away: Women's Rights Activists Won't Be Silenced

By Rick Zand

In a north Tehran restaurant early last December, I sat in the traditional Persian style - shoeless, legs folded, atop a carpeted dais. Plates of lamb and chicken kabobs on enormous beds of saffron rice were placed on a low-set table, along with two glasses of dugh, the national yogurt drink. Across from me sat Fariba Pajooh, a 27-year-old Iranian journalist with a round, soft face, dark but ebullient eyes and an engaging, wishful smile. Pajooh rolled her shoulder to demonstrate the cracking sound it still makes, a souvenir from her participation in the student demonstrations of July 1999.

The demonstration started out peacefully at Tehran University, where Pajooh was attending as an undergraduate. It began as a show of support for the reform movement led by then-President Mohammad Khatami, and spread to other cities as students made known their desire to see social and political restrictions loosened. It wasn't long before the police force, controlled by hardliners, cracked down and arrested over a thousand protesters, including Pajooh. She spent nearly two months in prison where police beatings produced her shoulder injury, as well as a broken nose. "I was young and stupid," she mused.

But the protest was pivotal for the reform movement. The demonstration proved to be the most violent since the revolution, and the closest the revolutionary government has come to being overthrown. It also, if only for a brief time, made the hardliners realize that the reformists were to be taken seriously. Meanwhile, the indelible mark it left on Pajooh wasn't just physical. The experience prompted her to switch from studying architecture to journalism.

In the end, Khatami's opponents won out, and he lost his presidency in 2005 to conservative Mahmoud Ahmedinejad. Since Ahmadinejad's rise to power, the hardliners have stifled reformist campaigns. Many reform candidates, even incumbents, are regularly disqualified, evidenced again by Iran's recent parliamentary elections. Khatami's hope of a more tolerant and democratic society has since sputtered, and women like Pajooh who once saw equality within reach have had to look for new ways to advocate for their cause, like posting blogs and writing articles for foreign journals. No medium is safe, however, and some women have been imprisoned for these activities.

Just before I met Pajooh, two female journalists she knew, Maryam Hosseinkhah and Jelveh Javaheri, were arrested for their work related to promoting women's rights. Hosseinkhah had also been one of over 30 women arrested in early 2007 for protesting in front of the Revolutionary Court on behalf of five women activists facing charges. One woman protester had her face slammed against a van by authorities who then refused to call her an ambulance, even when it was clear several of her teeth had broken out.

Unfortunately, in recent years, these arrests have become more routine and less discriminate. Women have ended up in prison for speaking about equality issues, collecting signatures, or writing for Web sites that promote equality.

Women's rights in Iran are complex and often misunderstood. Unlike in Saudi Arabia, for instance, Iranian women vote, drive, work, and pursue higher education. In fact, 65 percent of all university students are women. Female members serve in the Majlis, the Iranian parliament. There's even a women's theology school in the holy city of Qom, where the Ayatollah Khomeini received his religious training.

Iranian women are not required to walk behind men. Although separation between the sexes is often imposed - women sit in the back of the bus, often stand in opposite lines, and are segregated to their own section in mosques - couples walk closely together in parks and out on dates in cafes and restaurants.

Women are required to wear the hejab - either a chador, which covers the body and literally means "tent" in Farsi, or the less conservative manteau, a short, tight trench coat worn with a head covering. In urban areas like Tehran or Esfahan, it's common to see women with light, colorful scarves exposing a swath of styled hair, and wearing lipstick, makeup and jeans. But no matter how you fashion it, the laws remain strict: failure to wear a head covering can result in lashes. Many women lose the hejab at home and adopt an American or European look, and store windows display tight, low-cut jeans, high-heel boots, and blouses.

Legally, a woman is given half the rights of a man. Their inheritance is half, their legal compensation is half, and the court testimony of two women equals that of one man. It's also much more difficult for a woman to obtain a divorce. Even domestic abuse isn't grounds for a woman to leave her spouse, and women who commit adultery may be sentenced to death by stoning. Sighe, the Islamic practice of temporary marriage, is seen by many women as legalized prostitution-a way to hire the services of a woman while still obeying Islamic law. This temporary marriage can last for as little as two hours, and has been exercised even by religious leaders.

Many women in Iran have been involved in what has become known as the Million Signatures Campaign (short for "One Million Signatures Demanding Changes to Discriminatory Laws"). The purpose of this campaign, started a year and a half ago, includes an effort to inform women about equal rights issues, and to gather signatures they then hope to present to government leaders as leverage for modifying current policies.

Pajooh brought me to one meeting on women's issues held in the offices of Nobel Peace Prize laureate Shirin Ebadi, who has for years used her law degree to fight for the rights of women and children in Iran. It was there I met Nahid Tavassoli, one of the founders of the Million Signatures Campaign. A writer and journalist, Tavassoli is also active in a group called Peace Mothers Forum, which focuses on human rights issues in Iran, and is editor-in-chief of NAFeH, an artistic and cultural publication. She has often stated that "if women can have justice, then they will have equality." She explained that the Iranian women's movement is working to create a political dialogue within the context of Islam.

What Tavassoli describes as a New Islam, supported by some progressive clerics, attempts to address issues of equality through the Quran. The activists are not endeavoring to overthrow the Islamic government, but rather to work within its structure to modify discriminatory policies. The value of a woman, Nahid would argue, should be equal to that of a man according to the edicts of Islam. Also, nowhere does it mention in the Quran that women need to wear the veil. This was something the wives of Mohammad chose for themselves. Of course, the hejab is the least of the issues facing women in Iran today. But by keeping the debate within an Islamic context, these women feel the government will not be able to accuse them of representing western, or external, interests.

Women's organizations, while gaining momentum in the Khatami era, have faced severe persecution. Journalists and activists have been imprisoned, and women's organizations have been denied NGO status. The Women's Cultural Center, for example, enjoyed this classification during Khatami's presidency, but more recently the government rescinded it.

When asked what other countries, particularly in the West, could do to support the equality of women in Iran, Ebodi's answer amounted to "not much," and for good reason. Recently, President Bush pronounced his support for reformist movements in Iran, an association they would rather not make. Even a perceived alliance with the U.S. removes the validity of the internal movement they are working to establish, and sounds instead like a call for revolution, pitching the movement as an agent of U.S. interests. This puts the Iranian government even more on the defensive. Ironically, activists in Iran are striving for the same rights that already exist for American women. Making this comparison, however, could only draw more criticism from a government that has reviled U.S. intervention since the 1979 revolution.

After our lunch, Pajooh drove me down the popular Mirdamad Boulevard, past Mother's Square, where stands a sculpture of a woman and child, their heads pressed tenderly together. Along the way she sang a Persian folk song, Emshab Shabeh Mahtab, which she translated as, "Tonight is a moony night." Her voice was melodic and sweet, and she told me that she frequently sings at home. It's unlawful for women to sing to a male audience in Iran, and CDs of female vocalists are banned. Even in music, women must be careful how they use their voices. But Iranian women are nothing if not determined, and they will find ways to speak and be heard, with the hope that someday their voices will penetrate their government's hard-line stance.

Inshallah, as they say in Islam. God willing.

For more information on the rights of women in Iran, visit:
www.we-change.org/english/
www.roozonline.com/english/

If interested in traveling on a peace delegation to Iran, contact Fellowship of Reconciliation

Rick Zand is of Iranian descent and has traveled twice to Iran, once with his brother in 2004 on a journey to discover their family roots, and again last December as a member of a Fellowship of Reconciliation peace delegation. Rick is the director of admissions at Union Institute & University in Montpelier.