The Radical Act Of Wearing A Bikini

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all. 

- Emily Dickenson

As we continue to process the mid-term elections and the recent announcement by a certain presidential candidate, there is one news story that continues to linger in my mind: the death of Mahsa Amini for alleged modesty violations and the ensuing and continuing protests in Iran. Indeed, whenever there is news from Iran – the country of my family’s origin – I tend to pay special attention. Lately, I keep on re-playing the disconnect between the current reporting in the news and the photos of my grandmother on a carefree beach outing in the “old country” more than 80 years ago.

A day at the beach near Lake Urmia, Iran, in the 1940's. My grandmother is on the far right.

The youthful, untroubled confidence and life force my grandmother and her friends exhibit on this public beach are hard for me to ignore – their lives are before them and, clearly, the world is their oyster. For me, they telegraph an unstoppable hope for the future that my grandmother carried with her her entire life. For many, these photos will be an unexpected insight into what life could be like in Iran two generations ago. 

Not content with a simple one-piece, my grandmother opted for a two-piece ensemble.

Having said all this, I don’t necessarily mean to paint a perfect picture of my family’s life in Iran, especially as they were part of the Christian minority. Obviously, they made the decision (like so many others) to immigrate to America for the chance at a better life. It is a choice for which I am forever grateful. But I can’t imagine how the current restrictive conditions may have risked breaking the spirit that I so closely associate with my grandmother if she had had to live through them. I am sure she could not have imagined today’s climate, which brings me back to Mahsa Amini. While the life and promise of this young woman were shockingly extinguished, the refusal of the current generation to back down and to not lose their faith in a better future demonstrates that perhaps Emily Dickenson was right: no storm can abash that little bird of hope that keeps so many warm. 

I certainly hope so.