Persian Girls is a memoir of an author who spent her childhood during a tumultuous period in Iran. The book cleverly combines the political oppression of the ‘modernist’ Mohammad Reza Pahlavi and the social misery of women that occurs as a result of a patriarchal culture.

Nahid Rachlin was a young girl who comfortably lived with her biological mother’s sister up until the age of nine. The ‘mother,’ Maryum, who adopted Nahid was ostracized from much of society for her lack of ability to have children and for being a widow. She begged her sister, who was quite the opposite and had several children of her own, for a child and that was Nahid. The two lived a pleasant life up until Nahid’s father decided to take her back to her true home to live with her biological mother. From then on the memoir, which reads as a fascinating novel, depicts the difficult life of a girl attempting to achieve goals that are beyond what her culture permits. She obsessively describes the story of her favorite sister Pari, whom they both share an unnatural interest with the modernity and illusive freedom of American culture. In the end she finds her freedom by taking a chance in America, but ends up losing everything she loved from Iran.

As always whenever a book about women in Islam comes out, the only ones to be found are that which give life a depressing outlook that permits only subservience to the brawn-er sex. Any American reading this will utilize this memoir as evidence of female oppression in Islamic states. The last book I read along these lines was the bleak, morbid experiences of an American who attempted to help Muslims in another oppressive state, Afghanistan. After knowing that such books exist on the market, and appear to be the only such books available about women in Islamic states, are we really led to believe that Islam is bent on making sure that we are nothing but birth machines controlled by men? Our response seems to always be repetitive. It’s culture, political climate, or hell it’s men who ruin the image of Islam. However, religion isn’tto blame for all the injustice she endured, and once again those three are the reasons. The rule of Mohammad Reza Shah is intricately detailed in her story — the SAVAK police (initially set up by Western Governments) that set up spies to brutally suppress any form of opposition, censorship of books and ideas, general fear and confusion of the government– did create a political climate and culture that would only allow the abuse of the weak by the strong. And in this book the ‘weak’ were the women, the strong ‘the men’. Since when is a government that oppresses it’s own people and invites foreigners to take control of it’s lucrative businesses a good idea? In comes Ayatollah Khomeini who overthrows the Shah, promises a democratic government and greater standard of living, but fails to do so.

So why do I say religion is not to be blamed after a ruler who comes to power takes away the few freedoms granted to women under the oppressive Shah? Because the Ayatollah was not a central religious figure in the book. Although he dramatically altered the political events in Iran, the most religious character in the book was also the most loved by the main character. Maryam was repeatedly praised throughout the book as a conscientious Shi’a Muslim. She covered herself in a chador, constantly praised Hazrat Ali (R) and the Prophet (Sallallahu Alayhi Wasallam), and eventually moved to Baghdad to live nearby a beloved Shi’a shrine. Nahid considered her a mother, a believer, and loved her for being one of the only people in her life that did not force her to blindly believe in one way. In a way I think Nahid admired Maryum’s piety, especially since she had so much knowledge and never forced Nahid to see her way. Yet Nahid still remembered the many Islamic lessons she received from the woman she called her mother. The beauty of this book was that one of the most important protagonists was a devout Muslim, one who did not believe in compulsion of religion.

To me, that was one of the greatest lessons to be learned from this book. Although this poignant book can be taken in a negative way by many Americans, I wished t take something meaningful and positive from it. Despite the fact that I am not Shi’a or Iranian I still felt the religious and cultural connections. Even though I do not hope that my future children will follow the same religious journey of Nahid’s (that seemed to lead to secularism) I do hope that they see the beauty and simplicity of Islam. That their imaan is strong, and they can see that Islam protects and frees it’s women. I hope they aren’t forced into one way of seeing Islam and therefore turn away from it, I hope they can look at religion from every angle, question it, and come to the conclusion of it’s perfection.

My father is no Islamic scholar, Imam, or Jurist. He is just an ordinary Muslim. Maybe this is why it fascinates me that it will take him thirty minutes to finish reading two pages of the Quran. Every time he sits down to read, he contemplates only two pages of the Quran. Yet, I feel that he takes in more than I ever have reading in Ramadan. He once told me that with every problem he has had he will turn to the Book of Allah and find his answer. When I was a child this intrigued me, for how can a man find the answer to every predicament, dilemma, or dispute by reading a book in chronological order?

For years I had tried to find the answer to this question. I even tried to imitate his technique and read just two pages a day. However, I never suffered from the same problems an adult has, nor have I ever achieved my father’s level of spirituality. Instead, I found another piece of paternal wisdom. One day, a few years back, I just could not understand the literal translation or the tafsir of the two pages my father was reading that day. After numerous attempts at trying to understand, my father finally said Islam is both community and individual submission.

To be honest, this summer I have been neglecting the Qu’ran. It has been leaving a guilty pang in my heart every time I am reminded to read it. Being of 19 years of age I really think it is shameful that I must be reminded to read the Qu’ran. Finally, when I thought no one was looking I put my hijab on and found the Qu’ran on the shelf. I went in and sneaked a few words so I could feel content that no one would have to feel responsible that they admonished me into reading the word of my Lord. Instead of reading where I last left my mark, I picked up one of our English translation of the Qu’ran. I randomly picked a surah from the Qu’ran and landed on Suruthul Jathiya:

In the name of Allah, the Compassionate, the Merciful.
The First Three Ayats-
1. Ha-Mim.
2. The revelation of the Book is from Allah the Exalted in Power, Full of Wisdom.
3. Verily in the heavens and the earth, are Signs for those who believe.

When I was younger I thought these ayats were just redundant. Today I see something else. Being an ordinary Muslim myself I have no great intellect, philosophy or interpretation to seek the zahir/batin of the Qu’ran. I read it as an ordinary Muslim. And I see the answer to my question. AllahuAkbar!