Iranian Film Shown on Campus

The day I became a Woman (Roozi keh zan shodam)

The film The Day I Became a Woman by Marziyeh Meshkini comprises three short Stories named for characters that are the respective heroines in each: Hava, Ahoo, and Houra. In the first story, Hava wakes up on her ninth birthday to discover that she is now considered to be a woman and not a child any longer. What this means is that she is no longer allowed to play with her best friend, who is male, and that she is now required to wear a traditional chador to cover her hair. In order to preserve her freedoms a little longer, Hava persuades her grandmother that, since she was born around noon on her birthday, she should be able to enjoy one last hour of being eight years old until it is noon. Her grandmother agrees to let her play with her friend for one hour and teaches her how to use a stick as a sundial in order to tell the time. Hava enjoys this hour by going down to the coast and trading her veil for a water toy which she releases into the ocean (a metaphor for her desire to set herself free), and going to the candy store. Her friend is not allowed to come outside to play because he has to finish his homework, so they enjoy the candy through his window. Finally, the shadow of the sundial disappears and Hava’s mother arrives to usher Hava into womanhood, symbolized by the gift of the chador and the revoking of her freedom to play with male friends.

The story of Ahoo begins with a sequence of shots depicting an Iranian man on a galloping horse. He appears to be searching for something, and he is aimlessly screaming the name “Ahoo,” but it is unclear what this means until he catches sight of a bicycle race. The viewer then discovers that it is an all-female bicycle race as the camera cuts to a sequence depicting the man searching among the women while still on horseback. He appears to recognize one of the women, and calls out her name, “Ahoo!” He then proceeds to reprimand her for being on a bicycle and participating in the race. We find out that he is her husband. She appears frightened and pedals faster to escape him. He retreats. More harassment arrives in the form of a judge, her father, the male members of her tribe, and her brothers, and each of them verbally assaults her for being disobedient and rebellious. After each barrage, Ahoo summons her strength and her incentive to pedal faster. Her husband divorces her during the chase, and it looks like she may have achieved her freedom, but eventually her brothers are able to block the road and succeed in stopping her.

The third story features the final heroine in the trilogy: Houra. Houra is an old woman who arrives on the island via a plane and is assisted by a young black Iranian boy who pushes her wheelchair. She tells the boy to take her shopping so that she can buy furniture. She has ribbons of fabric tied on her fingers to remind her of each item she wishes to buy. More young boys are recruited to help push her carts of items. Eventually there is only one ribbon left on her finger, but she cannot remember what it was supposed to remind her of. To solve this problem, Houra instructs the boys to unpack all of the items on the beach so that she can see what she is missing. The site at the beach becomes a fantastical domestic space in the middle of the outdoors. The items are arranged as if in a house with invisible walls. Houra tells the boys that the things she has purchased are items that she never owned in her life but always desired. Houra can’t remember what she has forgotten, but she asks a couple of the boys if they would be willing to be her sons, but they refuse, politely telling her that they have mothers already. This seems to sadden her. The story ends when she decides to load up all of her items onto rafts to be transported to a ship that is nearby. Two women who were in the bicycle race from the previous story and Hava from the first story are watching as Houra drifts out towards the shift with all her material possessions.

What surprised me most was the simplicity of the scenes, the script, and the narratives of each story. The story of Ahoo, in particular, baffled me because the heroine barely spoke (in fact, the couple of words she uttered when her husband threatened to divorce her were under her breath and barely audible). I found it immensely powerful that her response to being reprimanded by her husband, the judge, her father, and her tribe was simply to keep pedaling, and in fact to pedal faster. Each new threat of punishment seemed to further strengthen her motivation and determination to win the bike race. The constant flux of Ahoo falling behind, being pursued, and racing ahead was metaphorical of her flickering hesitation and subsequent renewed inspiration to keep resisting her oppression.

I was also struck by the candy scene in Hava’s story, in which Hava has returned from the candy store and feeds her male friend hand-to-mouth through a barred window. They share a lollipop, which pops in and out of their mouths as they take turns sucking on the sweet. It was at this point that I became aware of a certain sexual tension that had nothing to do with the candy, but arose uncomfortably out of my meaning-saturated reading of this action. This scene made me implicitly aware of my own cultural background as I viewed it, which was frustrating. I would have rather watched the scene without my cultural baggage that predisposed me to associate the prolonged lollipop-sucking with pornography; however, I did not seem to have this choice.

In my opinion, the most beautiful scene was the scene in which Houra is floating out to sea surrounded by her newly purchased domestic items on makeshift rafts. I found the scene to be strikingly poetic, surrealistic, and inspirational in ways that the previous two stories had only just shied away from accomplishing. The juxtaposition of the frail old woman, luxurious domestic items, an endless sea and pitching waves triggered a gut reaction of agitation and worry over the seemingly doomed voyage. To counteract this, however, was Houra’s peaceful, elated smile. She seemed content and at ease, which soothed me. I cannot get that fantastic scene out of my mind.

Visit to the SFMOMA

I had the privileged opportunity to spend my spring break this year in San Francisco among like-minded people who were interested in visiting San Fran’s Museum of Modern Art. Having been in this class for half a semester, it was a dream come true! There was an entire gallery devoted to John Rauschenberg and Jasper Johns, whose pieces seemed to be in conversation with each other. I was very excited to recognize their names and the significance of their work in the same room.

Another dynamic exhibit was the Picasso exhibit, which featured Picasso works alongside works by other artists that were inspired by Picasso. The resemblance between the original Picasso piece and the work that imitated or developed a technique or motif was striking! Picasso’s influence on other modern artists cannot be overstated.