Photo credit: www.theguardian.com

Exploring Roots: An Iranian Woman’s Journey Through Family and Tradition

Growing up amid the turmoil of a war-torn country, the search for belonging can often feel elusive. My family’s story began in the city of Abadan, which was abandoned as the Iraq-Iran war escalated, forcing my parents and relatives to resettle in various cities across Iran and beyond. I was born in Shiraz in 1986, during the height of the conflict, which meant that I never experienced the warmth of family gatherings. Today, my family remains geographically scattered: I reside in Tehran, my brother is in Berlin, and my parents have made their home in the industrial city of Arak. This dislocation inspired me to embark on a quest to reconnect with my Iranian heritage.

Over the course of my project, I drove approximately 20,000 miles (30,000km) across Iran, seeking out women who are part of extensive families that maintain a deep-rooted sense of community. The passing of my grandmother occurred just before I initiated this photographic journey, and diving into the lives of these families—where multiple generations live together—allowed me to feel a renewed sense of belonging. Engaging with them made me feel as if I had many grandmothers, enriching my own understanding of familial ties.

My intention was not only to document the lives of these women, steeped in tradition and shaped by patriarchal values, but also to learn about their rich cultural and linguistic heritage. Despite the societal challenges they face, these women are dedicated to advocating for the education and freedom of their children while simultaneously striving to preserve their ancestral identities.

In urban settings, women often unite to advocate for rights, yet city life can promote isolation and individualism. For instance, in Tehran, I barely know my neighbors. In contrast, the women I met in rural areas embody a collective resilience; their strength lies in their shared experiences. Their support for one another serves as a powerful reminder of communal bonds. While I often carried my grief alone, burdened by its weight, these women offered a space for shared sorrow and connection.

This photo encapsulates the profound sense of shared grief that permeates my project, titled “In the Shadow of Silent Women.” It features one of sixty images taken in Gahi, a coastal village in Bushehr province, where fishermen venture out to sea, sometimes never to return. The photograph is staged, as are all my works, and depicts a group of women expressing their sadness through sharveh, a traditional mourning song performed during funerals and in domestic settings. Shamsi, singing second from the right, is regarded as one of the finest singers from southern Iran. She recalled how, as a child, she would awaken to her grandmother’s voice, singing sharveh while preparing breakfast for the family.

A poignant moment arose during this journey when my mother and I had to return to her hometown for my grandfather’s funeral, a somber occasion magnified by the restrictions imposed by Covid-19. The sharveh performed by Shamsi struck a particularly emotional chord for us on that day. This photograph not only captures the essence of mourning but also serves as a tangible reminder of the love and loss within my family. Every time I look at it, I am reminded of the profound connections between my mother, my grandfather, and the traditions that shape our identities.

Source
www.theguardian.com