Rarely does a book come along, especially a graphic novel, which drastically reforms my thinking when it comes to political issues. That’s what college was for, after all. But a little book called Embroideries by Marjane Satrapi seeped into my consciousness and has been making me see things from a different point of view.
I’ve always been adamantly vocal about the necessity for broader women’s rights in the Middle East. When I, as a Western woman, see my veiled counterparts on the news at demonstrations and gatherings, I can’t help but marvel at their courage to speak out under such repressive conditions. “Those women live such different lives than I do,” I always think to myself.
“Maybe not so different at all,” Embroideries subtly murmurs back at my ignorance. In Embroideries, Satrapi details the relationships and sex lives of Iranian women by placing several generations of a family at a confessional gathering after the men have departed. One by one, the women tell their stories of love and loss while the reader feels like a guest sitting in on the secrets.
Some of the stories fascinate by sheer cultural discrepancies between life in Iran and life in the West. For example, many of the women remark on the importance men place on the virginity of their brides. One of the tales recounted involved an already deflowered bride and a concealed razorblade to make a drop of blood on the bridal sheets. Women also speak about the importance magic and matchmakers play in arranging marriages. One woman who had been married for several years and had children with her husband admits to never having seen a penis, which clearly demonstrates a concealment of sexual information widely available in the U.S. and Europe.
Other stories, though, resonate as familiarities with a Western reader. Cosmetic surgery is as much an issue in Iran as it is here, and one woman admitted to having her nose straightened and another had her breasts enhanced. Romantic love for some of these women motivated pursuit of their first relationships, not engagement. And Iranian men were portrayed as differently as the American variety in how they treated the women: some were decent and loving, while others were garden-variety liars and cheaters.
The point is, the stories are all very different from one another. It would be a terrible mistake to place all these varied women under one political solution when advocating for change. After all, these women have as many different experiences with men as Western women do, and who am I to say what’s right for any woman? Perhaps the solution to women’s rights in Iran isn’t political, but personal.
On a camping trip this summer, I saw a young Muslim couple swimming on a public beach. The woman swam while wearing the traditional head covering and full-length garment. The man was also dressed modestly for American beach standards in long shorts and a shirt. The thing that got to me about this scene was the man teaching the woman how to swim, and they were having what looked to be a wonderful time splashing around. Perhaps change for Muslim women will come more innocently than anyone suspects. While equality laws help a great deal when they are enforced, attitudes about women might just change one good relationship at a time.
Embroideries by Marjane Satrapi was first published in 2003. The English translation was released by Pantheon on April 19, 2005.
