You could see the fire burning in Kimia’s eyes during the #WomanLifeFreedom demonstration in Brussels. A few weeks later, I spoke to her in calmer circumstances on a terrace in the vibrant heart of the Belgian capital. “My parents tried to protect me”, says the young Iranian woman who has been living in Europe for several years now.

Is it difficult to be in Belgium these days, and not in Iran, where all your friends are?

Super hard, but I’m trying to do something by being the voice of my friends, here, which makes it a little better.

Did you leave Iran in 2017 because life is hard over there, particularly for women? Or was it because you wanted to study abroad?

Both are reasons for my immigration. Being a woman in Iran is already difficult enough. You feel the oppression everywhere: at home, at work, in the streets, in society in general. And being an artist is difficult too in Iran. So, if you’re a both a woman and an artist, it becomes especially difficult. Iran is a dictatorship, and moreover, a religious dictatorship. It’s so complicated to create under censorship. Most subjects are forbidden to talk about, like political problems, religion, human rights, women rights, everything that has to do with LGBTQIA+, etc.

I come from a traditional family. My father has worked in court for 35 years and comes from Yazd, which is one of the most religious Iranian cities in the country. I had a very difficult teenage life.

Why exactly?

My parents tried to “protect” me. Every time I wanted to go out or date a guy, it was a true catastrophe for them.

And other girls in Iran were allowed to these things?

Yes, but you know what? In Iran I went out a lot more than here in Europe, and I drank more in Iran than here. The most intense parties I’ve ever been to, were all in Iran. We did everything there, but we had to bribe the police to do so. Sometimes, when we didn’t have much money with us, we would put everything we had together, to bribe the police while going out. Which is very dangerous of course because you can’t pay all the cops. And some of them would also arrest you if you would try to bribe them. It was always a risk and very stressful, but that’s exactly why the feeling during such parties was much more intense.

Where were such parties organized?

Never in public places, but in houses and gardens, for example in a villa outside of town.

When the parents were not at home, I assume?

Indeed. My parents really tried to protect me, which made it very difficult. I was always dating guys and trying to do as much as I could, exactly because it was forbidden.

Plastic surgery

Did you wear a veil at school and on the streets in Iran? And then did you take it off when you were with friends?

Yes. You know, in Tehran you can walk around like this (pulls down her shirt, showing a deep cleavage). And when you see the police, you close your vest or jacket. The veil we wear in such a way that you can still see hair.

That’s indeed how women in Iran are often depicted in Western media: with fashionable sunglasses and a veil that leaves a piece of the hair visible.

Yes, and makeup. I put on a lot more makeup in Tehran than here in Europe.

Iran is also known for its plastic surgery, is that image accurate?

Yes, if you can’t even show your hair properly, and you can’t wear what you want… (pauses) When you go out you want to look pretty, right? It’s because women in Iran can’t show their body or their hair, that many of them put the focus on their face.

What I’m telling you is of course about Tehran and some other big cities. In smaller cities and other regions, it’s completely different. In Tehran are many parties each weekend. You can go out there. Sometimes we would sit in the cafés like this (showing off her open vest and the thin shirt she’s wearing underneath) and we would just take off our veils. We would always check if there were no police or Basiji (paramilitary volunteers, ed.) around, though.

Alcohol

What’s your relationship with religion?
It’s many years that I’m not religious anymore. There was a time, when I was a teenager, at 11 or 12 years old, that I tried to understand what religion is, why my father did prayers every day, why my grandmother wears the hijab. I tried but didn’t succeed. I understand that it is not for me.

Can your parents live with that?

Yes, my mom for example is not religious at all, she never did prayers.

So, there are people in Iran who aren’t religious at all?

Yes, there are so many of them. It even happens within couples that one person is religious and the other one not, like in the case of my parents. My mother never wore the chador. She never did the prayers, but my father always did. Today it’s many years ago that my father structurally did that, though. He believed in God, but today he’s not religious anymore. Sometimes he still does his prayers, but he drinks alcohol too.

How did you leave Iran actually?

I’ve always wanted to be free, to choose for myself and to be who I want to be, but that wasn’t possible. Not in the society I lived in, not in my family. When I was 18, I decided to leave on a trip to the south of Iran. As a result, I was on bad terms with my dad for a whole month. Imagine he would have known I even wanted to go to another country on my own.

What was your approach to do so?

I had to do everything by myself: I studied art at the university in Tehran, learned French, and was working to pay part of my application fee. I couldn’t talk about it to my father. The day I got my admission to the university in Strasbourg, France, I told my father I was leaving. “You’re 20 years old, you can’t do that, come home, we need to talk,” he answered. I called my mom and told her to announce to everybody that I was admitted in Strasbourg, so that my dad wouldn’t be able anymore to say I couldn’t go.

Why was he against it?

He thought I just wanted to go do all the things that were forbidden, like partying, doing drugs and being half naked everywhere. When my parents visited me in Strasbourg, after a year, they saw that I studied well, managed my life, and didn’t even have a boyfriend. (smiles)

But what did they say about all your tattoos?

Oh, all my tattoos and piercings triggered little conflicts, for sure, but now my dad can laugh about it.

Thanks for sharing your story with us, Kimia.

Brussels, 2022.