Last spring, Lahiji was among the group of reformist intellectuals who attended the now famous Berlin Conference. She has since spent 2 months in prison, four weeks of which were spent in solitary confinement. Three weeks ago, Shahla Lahiji and Mehrangiz Kar, a women’s rights advocate, pleaded guilty in court. She is now awating sentencing.


Mahsa Shekarloo: You’ve become an established publisher, and are considered one of the most important women in this profession.

Shahla Lahiji: I’ve been been doing this work for 16 years. At the moment, there are over 400 women publishers, of which over half are currently active, and supporting themselves.  I’m happy that women have ventured into a professional field they previously considered closed to them.

MS:  In which arenas do you think women’s struggles are mainly taking place?

SL:  I don’t like to use the word "struggle", because it implies confrontation. In Iran, women’s struggles are not overt, like we have seen in the West, or in Pakistan and India.  Women are not spilling onto the streets and demonstrating.

Many of women’s difficulties are culturally based, or have to do with women’s outlooks themselves.  In Iran, we’re still taking the first steps, we’re not like other countries with long histories of democracy and public protest.  It’s for this reason that we see women’s demands being made silently, and calmly.

For example, public notary [ asnad-e rasmi] offices have traditionally been run by men.  Men who were mostly traditional and religious.  They couldn’t even imagine women entering into the profession.  We now have several women who head these offices, but it hasn’t been announced or mentioned anywhere. It has not created a stir, neither among the woman themselves, nor among the formal institutions. And there were never any laws that banned their involvement.  The obstacles were social and cultural.  But the day the first woman opened an office, the wall was broken.  Women have to realize what they don’t have, and try to reach those apparently inaccessible areas.

The publishing field had the same reputation, because printing factories were traditionally run by men, and people thought that publishing meant printing factories.  We now have many women who are in lithography, and who have management positions.  Again, they exist, but there is very little talk about it, there’s no publicity.  The women themselves are not making a big fuss about it.

That’s why I think that the word "struggle" is a bit extreme.  Women are challenging the culture internally, within themselves, not externally.

MS:  What was it like with the lithographer, and the printing factories in the early days?  Was it strange for the men who worked with you?

SL:  Yes, it was very strange.  The reasons were obvious: I had no experience or expertise, and I knew nothing about publishing.  I didn’t know the techniques, processes, or the tools that are necessary for the job. I would often do or say things that the men considered very amusing.  The environment was very working class, so it bothered them that a woman had entered an area where she didn’t belong.  They would try to show me that the environment was very masculine, by having crass conversations, and using rude words.  They wanted to scare me off by making me uncomfortable.

But I knew how to deal with the situation.  I used my powers as a woman, as a mother, and as an employer to affect the atmosphere.  The most effective strategy were my mothering abilities; I was kind to them, gave them advice, assistance, financial and otherwise.  Due to all of this - in addition to my increasing experience and expertise - over a period of several years, they eventually accepted me.  And they now respect me a great deal, and see me as a kind of pioneer. We know where we stand with each other. Since then, other women have entered this field more easily. 

Experience, experience, experience, and self-confidence. I tell first-time publishers, "Know your field, the details and mechanics.  You’re a publisher before you’re a woman."

MS:  What do you think of the proliferation of pop psychology books in Iran, those books about believing in yourself?

SL:  I don’t think that women who read those books are entering into professional fields.  Gaining self-confidence comes from experience, and trying and failing, and trying again. 

And it’s in guilds and unions that you can share social and professional experience, as in, for example, the Anjoman-e Senfi Farhangi-e Zanan-e Nasher [ Professional and Cultural Association of Women Publishers] . In any profession, social pressures can push women to organize themselves, so as to move forward.  Women are behind, and they must put in extra effort to catch up. 

On the other hand, most of the old-time publishers didn’t have much of an education, while most women publishers have at least a bachelor’s degree.  This can have a positive effect on the publishing field in general.

MS:  You also run a women’s studies center.

SL:  We conduct research on a given issue, and then possibly publish the work.  But we are not a research organization which has members, holds meetings, and does further research.  I can hold meetings, but within my publishing responsibilities.

MS: You also tried to found an NGO.

SL:  Yes. But due to the government’s sensitivities regarding women’s issues, it’s not really possible.  And for me, who is known as a feminist activist, I’m sure there are even more obstacles.  But what was important was establishing a place that helped women do research on women’s issues.

MS:  I hear from many women that access to information is limited, and that women here are excluded from international anthologies, and suchlike.

SL:  Because there hasn’t been a lot of work on women.  I think, that besides us, there is only Nashr-e Towseh [ "Development Press", cf. "Interview with Nooshin Ahmadi", March edition of Bad Jens] that focuses on women’s issues. There are some governmental institutions and organizations, some are even NGO’s, but not in the truest sense, in that they aren’t independent. I’m not saying we’re completely independent, but at least we can challenge certain things, and choose what to print, or conduct research on.

MS:  Your latest book is about filmmaker Rakhshan Bani-Etemad, which you not only published, but also edited and contributed to.

SL:  After a certain point in Bani-Etemad’s career, her work became very women-oriented.  At first, she was a documentary filmmaker for TV, during a time when women’s issues were very taboo, and she generally would stay away from women. She preferred to show men in her movies, and I had no interest in her.  I didn’t like her first two movies, and didn’t even bother seeing her third.  But after seeing "Nargess", I realized a change had occurred. Perhaps she wanted to first establish herself as a filmmaker before working on women’s issues.  If she had made movies about women form the start, she would have been judged for making them precisely because she is a woman, or they would have said, "It’s a woman, it’s no big deal".

But after making her place as a filmmaker, she announced her womanhood through her work.  Since "Nargess", she has been addressing women’s issues from a woman’s standpoint.  I decided back then that I would write a book about her, and I got it done just in time for "Beneath the City’s Skin", her latest movie [ cf. Pop Movies] .  The movie is fiction, but has the style of a documentary.  I think it will have quite an impact, both here and abroad.  In its simple narrative, it is a very beautiful film, and it shows women workers’ issues, and their families’ issues as well.  Writing my book was an opportunity to give something back.

MS:  What exactly did you love so much about the movie?  Was it that we see a family headed by a woman?

SL:  One sees a worker, and the positive effects of her employment on her family life. Tooba’s experience at work brings energy into the house.  She takes the experiences she acquires outside, and transfers them to her family.

Bani-Etemad doesn’t want to create a myth.  She shows Tooba’s past mistakes, and shows her taking her daughter back home to her abusive husband.  She isn’t interested in creating a symbol of women’s struggle.  Tooba doesn’t even have a fight with anyone. 

People don’t to want to fight for public issues yet, they haven’t reached that level of awareness.  It’s their families they fight for.  Women’s economic independence is only the first step towards understanding what rights they need. 

What I like about this film is its absence of sloganeering. It’s a simple, sincere story of a very ordinary working class family. They aren’t striving to become the next members of parliament.  It’s very difficult for a filmmaker not to project her own wants and wishes onto her protagonist.

MS:  Do you think there are many women like Tooba Khanoum?

SL:  Tooba is not fiction, she’s real. There are many like her. This screenplay was written in 1985, but was denied permission, so Bani-Etemad tried again in 1989, 1991, 1996, and finally, in 1999 she obtained permission.  And the composition of Tooba’s life really changed during the course of those 15 years.  For example, in the first draft, the issue was her son going to the front, while in 1991, it was something else.  In the end, the parliamentary elections laid the backdrop for the movie, because that was when Bani-Etemad obtained her permit.

MS:  Have you written books that were not approved by the Ministry of Culture?

SL:  No, I don’t write books that I know will not be approved. If so, I wait until I know they will be given permission.

MS:  What kind of issues is the Ministry of Culture a little sensitive to?

SL:  [ laughs] It’s not a little sensitive, it’s very sensitive.  You see, there are no clear standards, it’s up to the individual discretion of the person reading the book.  For example, they’ll say, this book is too feminist. I don’t know what that exactly means, but I do in a way. Not that they point to anything specific, but you get an idea.  When the 5th parliament was discussing the "Exploitation of Women" bill, it announced that if a text incites women to side against men, then… What exactly does that mean? But we do know what they’re getting at.

Don’t think these sensitivities are new.  If you look at our history, you’ll discover many strange and interesting things, sociopsychologically speaking.  3000 years ago, in the field of art, there were effigies of women.  Prayer effigies.  When the Aryans come to Iran, these effigies are completely banished as works of art.  Even the potteries and sculptures change shape, including the rounded figures, with protruding stomachs. Even colors change.  Pink turns into a dark gray.

From then on, in religious illustrations and descriptions, or in Iranian mythology, a feminine presence is always celestial, and without sexuality.  She’s a woman, but she’s desexualized.  And she’s always somehow sterile, barren -  Anahita, our greatest goddess, has a small and narrow middle. Goddesses were no longer portrayed with feminine features like big stomachs and big breasts. These images are all effaced.  What I mean to say is that there are definitely long-reaching cultural and historical roots - sensitivity [ hasasiat] towards women doesn’t take hold overnight.

And those claims that women in ancient Persia had power - what a great mistake, and how misleading.  It’s simply not the case.  I’ve done the research, and I know what I’m saying. In the case of many of the goddesses, women didn’t have the right to worship them.  They were goddesses for the men.  And since they didn’t really have feminine appearances, they weren’t considered or worshipped as women. 

These taboos have been transmitted and reproduced over the generations. Look how bizarre Iran is.  You can see the hidden power of women beneath the surface, despite its surface effacement. It’s a complicated topic, but I think there needs to be sociopsychological research on it, because it’s very revealing. 

But again, one must be careful not to fall into the other extreme, into claiming how powerful women were in the ancient days.  If you look at the information we have on the Sassanian times, for example, you see women were subject to many restrictions. A woman of child-bearing age had to be quarantined for 15 days of the month. From the start of her period, until four days following its completion, she had to be kept away from sunlight, and she couldn’t even drink water during part of that period.  Power?  What power? Women didn’t even protest.  We have to erase these misperceptions from our history. 

That said, we also have brighter periods in our history, like the Achaemenid times, when women were wage earners, while ancient Greece only had slave laborers. This can shake up many accepted ‘history of development’ theories.  Not only were Iranian women paid, but in specialized fields, they were paid even more than men.  This information stems from written documents, from the charts etched on stone in Persepolis. But no one has looked into the reasons for this. 

You know, one problem is that our history has always been the history of kings and rulers.  We haven’t looked into the people’s histories.  Do we know about our different systems of education during the Ashghani era?  Do we know the languages people spoke?  Do we know what language people spoke during the Seleucides era, when Greece ruled over Persia?  Do we know how the democratic city states were organized, besides the similarities to Greece?  We know nothing.  We don’t know anything about ourselves. We don’t have a history.

And what has been discovered has been done by others, who live on the other side.  I’m not saying "the enemy", but they were our competitors, after all. 

MS:  Do you call yourself a feminist?

SL:  No, not a feminist. 

Every society has certain individuals and thinkers who work towards equal rights for everyone.  And because Iranian women are dealing with limited social, political, and economic rights, they - and Iranian men too - have to work towards equality, so all of society can advance, with all its strengths. I don’t know if that’s called feminism.

What I mean is that the shape and form of feminism that takes place in Western societies, well, not to say that we don’t appreciate their efforts, but we haven’t reached that stage yet. So when I specify the applicability of the term, I mean to do so in this context.  Feminism needs to be translated here.

MS:  Bad Jens tries to provide a forum for active Iranian women, so they can establish relations with active women in other countries.  Do you think that such relations can have a positive affect?

SL:  If you mean relations with societies that are facing the same difficulties and challenges, yes.

Look at Pakistan, for example.  Iran is socially more advanced - women’s social positions are better here in many ways - but Pakistan has stronger democratic institutions.  Iranian women still don’t have a democratic outlook on society. Because they’re so worried about their individual problems, and are spending so much energy trying to keep their lives together, that they see social issues as something totally removed from their world.  These are the differences.

Relations are useful if different experiences are shared and exchanged among different groups. Like the experiences of women workers.  How do they organize and demand their rights?  The problem is, how many working women in Iran organize, or have the strength to create the relations we’re talking about?  This is left to women like us.  We don’t have those problems, and we don’t necessarily benefit from the changes we advocate.  We are, in many ways, hollering for other women’s rights, in place of others. And it’s not clear to what extent we’re accurately voicing people’s wants. 

I don’t claim that a women’s movement has been created.  Because it hasn’t. I believe that we have to look at things realistically, and act with society’s potentials.  In many ways, we are more advanced than other Middle Eastern and Asian countries, and in many other ways, our experiences are nothing compared to theirs.  If there’s a way that these experiences can be shared, that would be good.  But the mechanisms of how this should be done is still obscure for me.

MS:  Let’s get to the Berlin Conference. At what point did you sense how serious things had become?

SL:  Well, they warned us not to return.  But we never considered not returning, not for a second.  Because we thought that whatever was going to happen, we would have to face it.  We were accountable for what we said (putting aside the way the conference was managed and handled). The things that I said in Berlin were things that I had already said here, over and over again. I believe in them.  So I returned, and I’m now waiting to see what will happen.

MS:  Your trial is over, and you’re waiting for your sentencing.

SL: Mehrangiz Kar’s trial is over, and so is mine. It was a closed-door trial, and we were the only ones that were tried in this manner: just us two, the judge, and the public prosecutor.  There was not one newspaper that addressed this exceptional state of affairs.  Even though the judge - in violation of the rules and regulations — went on TV the next day, to express his opinion on the trial. But we maintained respect for the procedure, although it was closed-door, and didn’t say a word about it publicly. We committed no violations, but the judge did.

MS:  Have you seen any women’s magazines that are addressing these events?

SL:  I don’t see it happening, because if they were going to, they would have done so at the time, when it was main news. 

But all said and done, if I were born again, I would do it all over again. And there’s so much more I want to do.  The problem is my body.  It won’t let me do everything that I want.  I don’t have enough energy to do it all.

MS:  Like Ms. Kar, you did a lot of collaborative work with religious women.  I remember the forum that Roshangaran and Zanan magazine sponsored, inviting female members of the 5th parliament to speak about their legislative record [ cf. March edition of Bad Jens] .

SL:  We felt that we had to state our position to the members of parliament, and hold them accountable to their acts, and give notice to the candidates for the 6th parliament, that they, too will be held accountable.  And we collaborated with others who were interested in the same goal. We have never drawn lines along religious beliefs. 

On the other hand, we never accepted the suggestions to work under their  umbrella organizations either, reason being that this would hurt both sides.  They are close to some of the groups in power.  And we only have ourselves.

MS:  Who are your supporters?

SL:  Ordinary people, people who don’t belong to any political party or faction.  There’s no centralization of this support, it’s scattered.  We can’t organize gatherings, even small ones, because there’s a possibility they’d come under attack.

MS:  And they won’t be organized any time soon?

SL:  In my opinion, when the people feel there’s a need, they will.  And if it hasn’t happened yet, it’s because they haven’t made that step. One can’t make that step for them. 

MS:  I hear that you write poetry.  Will you ever publish your poems?

SL:  It’s very personal.  I can only write poetry under certain circumstances.  It  fulfills an inner, private need.  But I have never thought of publishing them and having others read them. 

MS:  You never think about publishing them one day?

SL: I hope that before I die, I will have them all destroyed.

MS:  One of the conservative factions are putting up a female candidate for the presidential elections.  What do you think about this?  Would you ever consider voting for such a candidate?

SL:  No, because the candidate’s sex is irrelevant.  Being a woman is not enough.  It was the female members of the 5th parliament who passed those laws against women.  They presented those bills.  It’s important to find someone who reflects the wants of women, or maybe it’s better to say, someone who reflects the wants of people who are seeking equality.  Because there are a significant number of men who want equal rights as well. It will benefit their children, their daughters and sisters.

MS: I’ve been seeing people lose hope, and say it doesn’t make a difference who they vote for, things don’t change.

SL:  That’s irrelevant.  It’s the people themselves who produce change.  I believe in people a great deal.

Of course there is a price to pay.  This has happened everywhere, throughout the world.  Everyone who has worked for freedom and human rights has had to pay their dues.  And Iran is no exception.  But one must first reach a certain level of need.  I always say understanding what we lack is the first step to freedom. Once we realize that we don’t have certain things, we will start making our demands.  And this process can’t be rushed.  It can only be facilitated, by increasing cultural awareness.  It’s the reason why I chose cultural work, and publishing, because until the cultural groundwork is laid, political and social change will never happen.

transl.: MS