.
My immigration story begins with muffled voices echoing in my body, resonating through my head, shoulders, legs and back my own muted voice and that of my generation.
Born in 1985 in post-war and post-Islamic revolutionary Iran, I know what it is to
suffer from discrimination and injustices in a despotic Islamic government. I have seen how Islamic ideology and tenacious religious traditions can govern many social spheres, namely women s bodies and behaviours in the street. I have also observed how Iranian citizens, particularly women, are entangled with political and economic limitations, and an oppressive cleric regime that breaches their rights.