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Golshifteh Farahani, actress
At the age of 14, Golshifteh Farahani started her film career in Dariush Mehrjui's film
›The Pear Tree‹ (Derakht-e Golābī).
During the shootings of Ridley Scott's film ›Body of Lies‹, she was confronted with such a mass of repression by Iranian state authorities, that she left Iran in 2008.
Which images come to your mind, if you think about your childhood in Iran?
Golshifteh Farahani: My memories of Iran are enormous. And when I think back to my early childhood, I remember the air raids and the bombings in Tehran. In spite of all the bad things that happened in those days, there was also something beautiful at the same time, namely the strong solidarity and social cohesion inside the families.
What's left for me from Iran is art, music and my family. I did not only leave the city of Tehran, but the entire country Iran, and I particularly like the love and honesty of the ordinary people in the countryside and in the villages. I miss these simple people from the villages; I do not feel such a longing for Tehran.
Is there something from your childhood in Iran that you have preserved up to this day?
G.F.: My character was formed in my early childhood. We all deal with different characters every day and sometimes we forget that these characters are the results of certain incidents and experiences in the childhood. What I carry with me from my childhood are dreams and traumas and I want to understand, find and dissolve them. I think that's what I've kept from my childhood.
Have you ever imagined being a man in Iran? And let's assume you were a man, would you still live in Iran today?
G.F.: When I realized, how my body transformed into a woman, I became aware of the problems that my mother, grandmother or other women have in this country. So I wished to be a boy so that I could get rid of all the suffering of being a woman. And at that time, between the age of fourteen and sixteen, I lived a kind of dual life, for example I cut my hair like a boy's. In the morning I went to school as a woman with hijab and was called on by the boys in our neighborhood. And in the evenings I played basketball with the boys from the neighborhood with my short hair and they did not realize that I was the same person. I was afraid to lead a typical women's life in our country and I feared to slip into the morass of the typical female role. Then I realized that there is no real escape for a woman and that something beautiful, like a lotus flower, can evolve even in morass. So you can have your roots in the morass and still evolve into a beautiful flower. As a man I had not left the country because I would not have had any problems with my body or the hijab.
Over the period of seven months, I was repeatedly summoned by the Revolutionary Court and had to show up there, and I realized that this happened only for one reason – because I am a woman. During this time I joined the US film ›Body of Lies‹ and the court delayed the judgment against me, hence it wanted to wait until the movie premiere because then the court could have had imposed a higher penalty against me. Then I decided to leave Iran before the movie premiere, because otherwise I would have had big problems and I would have been denied the exit permit. I don't know how bulky my file at the Iranian intelligence service is – all because I'm a woman.
To whom does the body of a woman belong in Iran today?
G.F.: (laughs) 100 percent of the female body belongs to the men — it was just a joke.
The woman, the hair of a woman, the body of a woman and even to be a woman in Iran is like being a hostage or an occupied country. And even in this state of a hostage, the women resist.
If Darwin's theory of evolution is accepted, there would have to be another theory for Iranian women who already have the resistance in their genes. The development of the Iranian women's society began more than 500 years ago in the era of the Safavids, then in the Qajar dynasty and one can see what went wrong with women in society and especially now there is the catastrophe of the Islamic Republic of Iran, already lasting 40 years. More than most other people in the world, Iranian women have developed strongly. Due to the constant social pressure on the women their resistance against this pressure was absorbed into their genes, otherwise the Iranian women would not be so strong today.
We – the Iranian women – are really strong.
Once you said in an interview that in the Orient every woman feels guilty as soon as she has sexual feelings. Could you please explain that.
G.F.: To be honest, I would not limit those feelings of guilt only to the Orient or our region. The sexual feelings of a woman are a taboo in our region. This sense of guilt is deeply rooted in the culture and the genes and it has a long history. This has nothing to do with today, but is based on our ancestors and our history.
I think that girls, who are born in and after the nineties, don't feel that guilty anymore. However, I have not been to Iran for the last ten years and I have not experienced the changes among young women by myself. This new generation in Iran feels no longer as guilty and ashamed as the older generations, and once again it shows that beautiful flowers can emerge even in the morass. In fact, many young women in Iran live a relatively free, sexual life today.
Owing to the feelings of guilt in my generation, one can say that our body does not belong to us and if there is something like sexual pleasure, we are not allowed to show it.
You also acted in Abbas Kiarostami's film ›Shirin‹, which is based on the ancient Persian love story ›Khosrow and Shirin‹. Would you sacrifice yourself for someone out of love like Princess Shirin?
G.F.: No, I sacrificed everything for my life and my work as an actress and I deeply believe in my work.
I worked hard like a donkey for my job. From the age of 14 until today, I have always continued like this. I believe there is no one to sacrifice for, as I sacrifice myself for a greater purpose.
Which particularly painful experiences did you make as an actress with state authorities in Iran?
G.F.: Since I was not a TV actress, I had little to do with the Ministry of Culture. As a film actress, I played some roles that could give pleasure to the opposition, but I was a very quiet person.
After the production of the US film ›Body of Lies‹ I had to go back to Iran and then the problems started. I was asked by the Ministry of Culture which role I played exactly and then the Ministry of Culture sold me to the Secret Service. I went to the Ministry of Culture on my own and told the staff that the film had nothing to do with Iran, and if it had, I would not have participated. I had a shooting date abroad for the movie ›Prince of Persia‹ at the same time, but the Secret Service had confiscated my passport and I could not fly to the shooting. At the same time I was only occupied with the Revolutionary Court and the Secret Service and that was the worst time in my life. I felt like a ball that was thrown back and forth between the Secret Service and the Revolutionary Court and no side accepted the other side. I was called and summoned by the Revolutionary Court and the Secret Service all the time and it took me a lot of effort to play in Asghar Farhadi's film ›About Elly‹. Mr. Farhadi was very nice, he gave me time and waited for me. Actually, the ministry wanted to prevent me from playing a part in ›About Elly‹ and in the end I owe my performance to Mr. Farhadi's willingness to take the risks. Mr. Farhadi had been called several times to not give me a role and I was called and summonned simultaneously by the Ministry. I always took extra underwear for the summons, because I was afraid of being arrested. Each subpoena by the Secret Service was a heavy, nervous burden because you never knew if you would return home savely.
So these were my bad experiences with the Ministry of Culture, the Secret Service and the Revolutionary Court, although Mahmud Ahmadineschād had promised my father nothing would happen to me. All this fear, the nervous stress and the confrontation of the authorities were the reason why I did not return to Iran.
Which of your roles has influenced you the most?
G.F.: It's difficult for me to answer this question because each role that I played is part of my life and my soul. All the roles, that I have taken, have influenced me. Especially those films in which I played a role in Iran were very important for me, for example ›Santouri‹, ›The Tear of Cold‹ (Ashk-e sarma) or ›The Patience Stone‹. These films really impressed me.
That is the reason I can not just name one movie, because all the films have formed me like the branches of a tree.
Did anything positive evolve from the 1979 Iranian Revolution?
G.F.: To be honest, I can hardly answer that question, hence I have not experienced the time before the Islamic Revolution.
But no matter what happened, after the revolution you can state that even the bad things have a good side. The best thing about the Iranian Revolution was that it showed the true face of a political religion or a mixture of religion and politics. And people have realized that they don't want this mixture. The result of mixing politics with religion is the terrible disaster that we have now. Even our traditional, conservative population meanwhile understood that religion is a private matter. And besides people have learned that the strictly conservative religious leaders are not able to rule and manage the country.
I think realizing this was the biggest gift of the Iranian Revolution.
If they are interpreted in a strictly conservative and patriarchal way, all monotheistic religions pursue a virgin cult in regard of unmarried women. That means women are either classified as a whore or a saint. How strong is this virgin cult in Iran today, nearly 40 years after the Islamic Revolution?
G.F.: In regard to this question we come back to my image of Iranian woman as an occupied land. The fear of men in our society leads to this result. Why are men so anxious? Because the woman is the only person who knows the father of her child.
The virgin cult does not have anything to do with Islam in the first place, but rather comes from history. In prehistoric times people learned to use seeds of plants for reproduction. Since then, men have tried to collect seeds and keep them for themselves. Then they collected the women the same way, too, because the women were responsible for the children, their offspring. Using the virgin cult like a key to occupied countries, men tried to control women.
In my time in Iran, the virgin cult was still important, but today it does not play such a big role anymore. And the receding importance of virginity today is also a kind of rebellion of women against men. Basically, virgin cult always goes back to the claim of men to regard women as their property.
In the 21st century, nothing is as ridiculous as this virgin cult.
While the family determines social coexistence in Iran to this day, the Western society is more influenced by individualism. How do you feel about the lack of this strong role of the family in Western society?
G.F.: In Iran, as I know it from my past, there were no mobile networks. That's how I love Iran – without that much media technology. Family cohesion is in our genes and it's also a sign of tradition and respect – for example, we do not stretch our legs in front of our parents. I don't know how the current situation in Iran is, because I have not been there for a long time, but if all those traditions were lost, it would be a pity.
Traditions last longer among the people living in the countryside than among the inhabitants of the metropolises. For example, a shepherd in the countryside is not able to let his sheep walk on Instagram, he has to go to nature with his animals every day. My love for these traditions in Iran is still alive.
You grew up in the Iranian theocracy – is there still something today that is sacred to you?
G.F.: Holiness is a big word. I don't know if the word holy still holds its sanctity today. What was holy once, caused torture, pain and bad things. There is always a connection between the word holiness and a catastrophe or a bloodbath. And that's why the word holy has lost its original meaning for me.
I have my faith, but since the word holy has lost its meaning, I would not use it for my faith. For me, there are no sacred things, but I have my humane beliefs and a faith that is based on humanity and not on something coming from the outside, e.g. from heaven. Humanity may be sacred to me, but sacred has nothing to do with God, and would better be replaced with human. Human values are important to me to discover true spirituality.
The German film director R.W. Fassbinder once said: »And only those who are really identical with themselves need not be afraid of fear. And only those who are not afraid can love without value, the ultimate goal of all human effort: to live their lives.« Can you live your life in the West?
G.F.: Many people leave their homeland, not because they are persecuted or oppressed, but because they want to live their own lives. Sometimes even in prison you can live the way you want. And sometimes it happens that you can not live the way you want in the free world and in the West. You can unconsciously become a slave of the system – even in a free country. It is known that many people are slaves of the system of capitalist countries.
The interesting thing is that I was able to live relatively freely in Iran despite limitations and oppression. Internally I felt free until I realized that the regime wanted to slow me down like a dam. Until this point I lived happily and freely, but from that moment on I had the feeling of banging my head against a wall. Despite all the repression in Iran, I felt free inside, and when I left Iran and lived in the West, it took me a long time to find myself. Sometimes life in freedom or exile is worse than in prison.
In this world of political freedom I always try not to lose my inner, humane freedom. To be a free human being is the most valuable freedom that one can achieve.
When do you regard a human being as beautiful?
G.F.: I regard a human as beautiful when the human is master of his nature. The most important fight is the confrontation with oneself. There is no thing like a fight with the outside world, these are only imagination or illusions. I bow to the people who have become masters of their own nature. These people are like beautiful flowers to me. When a human being has reached this point, he has won the inner fight and thrown his sword to the ground. And I've met only a few, maybe one or two, who achieved it.
Persons like Buddha, Bāyazīd Bistāmī, or Al-Hallādsch are known from history, but if you're lucky enough to meet such people, it's a huge experience. I only met one or two people who emerged as winners from all internal conflicts. For me this really is the top of beauty.
Does Iran appear in your dreams?
G.F.: Yes, there is a fig tree, and when I talk about it, I begin to cry. This tree is situated in the middle of a desert landscape in Iran and in the depth of my heart I would like to see this tree again some time.
I always ask other people: Where would you like to be planted if you would be born into this world as a tree?
If I were a tree, I would like to be this fig tree. And this tree, whose fruits are of peerless sweetness and delicacy, is standing alone in the middle of a desert next to a freshwater spring. I am imagining my life and death at the foot of this tree. And this means that the return to Iran is the return to this tree. When I imagine my return to Iran, I'm not thinking of a gangway at the airport or my parents' house, but of this tree.
There is a picture in my head that I'm approaching this tree on a way in the desert.
What message do you want to give to young people in Iran who were born after the Islamic Revolution and who know the history of Iran only by stories?
G.F.: I don't see myself in the position to give a message to anyone; I usually accept messages instead of giving them.
My message is, who I am and what I do. I think the winner in a war is the one who stops first and throws his sword to the ground. I believe that all of us should take a look inside ourselves before looking at the outside world, because the outside world is formed by the inner world. And especially we Iranians have forgotten our inner world and only look to the outside world. Only when you are in harmony with yourself, you can build a better outside world. As long as we have not finished our inner conflicts, we are not able to improve anything in the outside world, we will rather worsen it.
Rumi says: »And from the heart of the flame, come out, become a moth, abandon your deceit.«
That means that we should free ourselves from physical and material things and that we are not able to change the outside world without this inner liberation.
08 / 2018
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