The city is crowded. It is full of people going many different ways. Each individual looks different. The women have to cover their hair. Some cover it fully, others cover it half way. Some have no make up at all, others have a lot on. Some wear bright colors and tight clothes, others wear black and loose clothes. These women have not accomplished what they were after. These women did not have their dreams come true. These women are after something more, something better. Their identity is hidden by their covered faces and bodies. Their emotions are beneath the make-up. Their eyes are used to the everyday show, they can’t look any further for a change. These women have to deal with stares and remarks by some men everyday. These women have no rights. They have no freedom. These women are smart and talented, but unfortunately no one can see it. No one gives them an opportunity to show-off their talents. They have to keep it to themselves. These women are hard working. They don,t give up. They walk through the crowded city, go through the heat while wearing too many clothes, go through remarks and stares, go through traffic, and every other obstacle, yet they still walk and hold their heads high to show that they are not afraid.
As I walked up the stairs I thought of the last time I had been in our house. It was a long time ago, about four years ago. I had been 11 years-old. I had such great memories in our house and in every part of Tehran that I had been to.
For a long while I thought that I’m dreaming. I thought that I’m just in a beautiful dream. Even though I constantly thought it is a dream, I knew it was real.
Monday, June 9th, 2003 3:30 P.M, Waiting for the plane to Amsterdam
I am sitting on a comfortable seat among perhaps 20 people. I am surprisingly very calm and I have a feeling that everything will be okay. I am now an independent girl and I’m very proud of myself.