A Tale of Exile, Rebellion, and Resilience

Once upon a time in Rasht, a city known for its delectable cuisine and breathtaking vistas, fate smiled upon me. Raised by a mother who worked tirelessly as a teacher and a father who selflessly sacrificed his youth for our well-being, I cherished every moment of my upbringing. However, behind the charm of Rasht, Iran’s struggling economy casts a shadow over our lives. Nonetheless, my spirit remained undeterred.
From a young age, I found myself captivated by the realms of psychology and philosophy. Ironically, my fascination led me down a path of darkness, as I encountered the clutches of depression. Time passed swiftly, and I awakened on my sixteenth birthday, only to be greeted by an unwelcome guest — Konkur.
In Iran, Konkur was an exam that mirrored the competitive nature of our society, emphasizing knowledge and success. However, the significance of this endeavor began to diminish in my eyes. Winning the coveted prize of a free university education suddenly felt more like a burden than a reward.
Enrolled in a university permeated with the fascist ideologies of Iran’s regime, I found myself questioning the relevance of my studies in mining engineering. It seemed that nothing was as it appeared on the surface. Defying conventions and challenging every rule that dared to confine me, I embarked on a journey of artistic expression. I wrote and directed thought-provoking plays that defied the constraints imposed by our circumstances.
In 2018, I joined my compatriots and took to the streets in protest. Driven by the desire to protect my loved ones from the oppressive regime that had inflicted so much suffering on my generation, I fought valiantly. My fists rose in defiance for my family, who had toiled their entire lives to afford a home, and those whose dreams had been shattered and spirits demoralized in the dilapidated streets of Iran.
Unfortunately, my brave stand against injustice was met with a brutal blow from the government’s frustrated police force. Bruised but far from broken, I embarked on a journey of self-improvement. I delved into the realms of Python programming, taking advantage of Iran’s Minor Worker Policy to gain three years of experience in graphic design and website development by the tender age of 18. Armed with this newfound skill, I became the most accomplished developer in the university, earning a perfect score of 100/100.

As I continued to hone my skills and work on various projects, Iran’s oppressive regime again cast its shadow over my aspirations. They made it clear that they would hunt me down and suppress me at every turn. Milestones loomed ahead, from mandatory military service to the daunting task of landing an international remote job. Iran’s network censorship circumscribed my every move, suffocating my dreams.
Amidst the mounting frustrations, the resonant voice of Johnny Cash singing “I’ve Been Everywhere” reverberated within me. At that moment, I resolved to be everywhere, transcending physical boundaries. Armed with a VPN, I assumed different online personas, adopting names like John or Jack, and creating separate graphic design and development profiles. Living multiple lives allowed me to escape the reality of being devalued as a mere subhuman in my homeland. I found solace in my overwork, collaborating with esteemed clients and agencies, until tragedy struck.
The death of my dear friend during a protest shattered the illusions of my fabricated identities. I could no longer hide behind the characters I had created. Unable to be myself or anyone else, I was torn apart, as James Dean once said. Depression no longer belonged to me alone; it encompassed the collective pain of countless girls ensnared in the gallows of forced hijab, boys consigned to lives of servitude in the military, fathers burdened by the shame of hunger, and mothers pretending to be satiated so their children could sleep with full bellies.
The punch I received earlier was not the only blow fate had in store for me. They shuttered our beloved café, subjected me to beatings that aimed to erase my thirst for freedom, and inflicted unspeakable torture in their perverse pursuit of enforcing their twisted definition of a religion of love. With no choice but to flee, I bid farewell to Iran, and exile became synonymous with the absence of a mother’s warm embrace. Yet, in the depths of my despair, I found the strength to forge ahead.
I chose to discard the notion of milestones, for I had learned to forget their meaning. Instead, I embarked on this writing journey, hoping that my words would pave the way for stories of freedom. I yearn for a future where the streets of my homeland are adorned with smiles and the fragrance of liberty. May this tale be the first step toward that radiant tomorrow.