Parastou Forouhar

The wave of protests that began in Iran on 16 September 2022 has been continuing every day. Nothing can stop these women, who are increasingly attracting men to their cause as well. The women are aware of the risk they are taking, and it shows – there’s no turning back. It’s very impressive how they are making themselves heard. For Iranians in exile, the upsurge of protests brings their homeland painfully close once more. The Iranian artist Parastou Forouhar is not only watching what is happening in her homeland from exile, but she’s also actively supporting all those who are now risking their lives. In November 2022, she will be travelling to Iran again.

SLEEK:  You grew up in Iran and witnessed the murder of your parents in 1998. For 30 years, you’ve been living and working as an artist in Germany and you return to Iran every year on the anniversary of your parents’ death. Does the house in Iran connect you to your history?

Parastou Forouhar: This house in Iran is a key place in my history. I grew up in the house and lived there with my parents. It’s where their wonderful vision of a free Iran, their struggle, their perseverance, their drive and also their hopes live on. This house is freighted with my memories and is the place where my parents were murdered. All these contradictions collide and the house bears this with dignity. All those who want to come to my parents’ house to attend the annual memorial events are taking a risk, but that doesn’t stop people from coming. This annual gathering creates beautiful moments and a community experience. Together, despite all kinds of repression, we give each other hope and share a vision of justice and truth. We are the ones who make the decisions which means we’re not giving up our freedom.

S: Eighty thousand people recently took to the streets of Berlin to demonstrate solidarity with Iran, women’s rights and human rights. They travelled from all over the world to be there. They all share one hope and have chosen Berlin as the location to do this.

PF: That Saturday in Berlin was incredible. Sometimes it’s not about people’s different experiences of history, sometimes it’s simply about creating a symbol of the right kind of politics and an example of hope. Both these things happened in Berlin.

S: There were so many men at this demonstration too.

PF: That’s new and, for me, it embodies a great sense of hope. I’m in great admiration of the fact that there has been a shift in consciousness. If the will to change appears in just such a moment, that’s a real sign that something completely new is emerging.

A change in thinking about men’s superiority over women in Iranian society has been brought about by the attitude of fathers, grandfathers, of men towards their daughters, granddaughters and wives. They too have understood that there can be no free society without women’s rights, and for this you have to show up, stand up and be supportive. The power of a life-affirming movement becomes clear in the calls for freedom and self-determination.

S: In his song Baraye, Ben Solomon sings about the small gestures which can gain in importance very quickly because here in the West, we take them for granted.

PF:  This song has become an anthem of the protest movement. In the original Iranian version, each line of the lyrics begins with the word “for” [baraye] – for my sister, for kissing in the street, for walking the dogs, for the birds that have become extinct because they have been robbed of their habitats, etc. This list encapsulates everything the uprising is for because it’s about the vision of a simple, human life. Isolation, ideological narrow-mindedness and religious paternalism have forced people to pretend and suppress themselves and their needs. Dissembling, lying and accepting situations with which you absolutely don’t agree are now being courageously and openly rejected. When I saw a photo of three unveiled young women sitting by the side of the road with soldiers in full body-armour standing in front of them, they were not only blatantly breaking the law, they were also facing up to their own danger. This symbolises a significant change.

S: We can experience an incredibly positive kind of energy and great courage through the Iranian families and all the Iranians in exile. This makes us think and also raises questions about ourselves here in the West.

PF: I agree: it’s a symbol of what we are made of and that human rights and women’s rights issues can never be ignored or taken for granted.

S: Not shying away from pain and protecting what matters. In your work, you often counter brutality with humour, thereby drawing attention to it.

PF: Exactly. Through humour, I can hold a mirror up to other people directly, showing how ridiculous they are without them realising it themselves. You always have to look at these protests in the context of the Islamic Republic. The Islamic Republic is an apartheid system that discriminates against women. Women in Iran have half as many rights as men and the religious delusion of wanting to control women, to see them as prey and to own them, is enshrined in the state. The traditional male role is being contaminated by the Islamic Republic because everything is freighted with violence and power. More and more members of the younger generation of men are rejecting this and now they have to seek out, develop and create new models of masculinity for themselves.

S: You live in Germany, observing most events from afar. How does that make you feel?

PF: I’m actually in Iran at the moment. Everything that is happening right now inside other countries and outside is of incredible importance. In Berlin, there were so many different people from different countries on the streets and through this global support, you can really pile the pressure on. The people in Iran notice this and understand this as a moment of solidarity. They draw strength from this. Politicians in Germany, in Europe and all over the world are also aware of the overt solidarity and interest. We just have to put a lot more pressure on the system in Iran from outside and, of course, it’s important that we report what’s going on here and spread the news.

S: And when you think about tomorrow, do you have a vision as your parents had?

PF:  When I think, quietly and to myself, about Iran’s future, my own inner conflict becomes apparent. On the one hand, I feel a belonging and deep connection with the country’s culture, its literature, with memories, my parents’ house, my circle of friends, with beauty, architecture and music. It’s a life I once lived. On the other hand, the experience of violence and abuse is so strong and present all the time that you can’t liberate yourself from it. The experience of seeing violence up close runs deep. So I have a very ambivalent relationship where both are present and I find that draining. My desire to shine a light on these aspects of abuse so that they can be learned from, acknowledged as history and written down is enormous. This will be important, not only for the women but also for ethnic and religious minorities, communists and atheists – for everyone who is different. Without a change in their rights, there can be no corrective justice in the world. My parents lived hoping for this version of a world and another Iran. The slogan of the current protest movement, “Woman, Life, Freedom”, is a fabulous response to the regime’s toxic masculinity and discourse of death. Now, the discourse is about “life” and that’s wonderful.

As featured in SLEEK 75 – HAPPINESS. Available in print and digital here.

Parastou Forouhar

Parastou Forouhar is an Iranian installation artist who lives and works in Germany. Forouhar’s art reflects her criticism of the Iranian government and often plays with ideas of identity. Her artwork offers a critical response to the political climate in Iran and to Islamic fundamentalism. The loss of her parents, Dariush and Parvaneh Forouhar, fuels Forouhar’s work and challenges viewers to take a stand on war crimes against innocent citizens.