Meatstick Guest Blogger-Jayron's Lipstick Jihad Book Review

In Lipstick Jihad, the author/journalist Azadeh Moaveni, writes about her life as an Iranian-American, who after being born in northern California moves to Iran in 1999 to work as journalist for Time magazine. In the first few chapters Azadeh’s depictions of growing up Iranian in America really hit home. Mentions of her grandma making jam and being the master of the kitchen, her mother’s insistence that Madonna was a “jendeh” (whore), the culture’s fondness of BMWs, her American friends being considered rude when they didn’t say hello upon entering the house all were very familiar to my own experience. References to gathering around tea, eating pomegranate and akbar-mashti bastani (ice cream), and hearing the word Jaan (dear) at the end of everyone’s name also warmed my heart.

Azadeh’s parents, like mine, had moved to America to attended college in the 70’s and the revolution in ‘79 made returning to Iran an undesirable alternative, so they stayed. The Islamic revolution of ‘79 changed everything in Iran. The religious fanatics who were threatened by the West’s encroachment upon their culture wanted to take their country back. (And back they did, unfortunately they took it 200 years back!) Women who used to be able to wear bikinis were forced to cover themselves from head to toe. Listening to the Beatles was now out of the question since music was no longer allowed. Men and women were separated, alcohol was banned, and lipstick was forbidden. Many of the best and brightest left the country. To this day, the country remains under religious rule. But little by little, women regained some rights and with the “reformist” President Khatami elected in 1997, women could even wear sandals (how shocking)! Sandals must be accompanied by the long veil/jacket, of course.

Azadeh, more profoundly, writes about her own transformation. She went from living in America, speaking “kitchen” Persian, having no ties to Iran other than through her mother, and hiding from embarrassing associations with her Iranian background to living in Iran where she found herself more at home than ever.

A line in the book really resonated with me. Azadeh revealed her fear of losing the Iranian side of herself. When she was a little girl, listening to Persian music in the car with her mother, she told her mom, “Mom, it’ll be sad when you die, because no one will listen to his music anymore!”

I wonder the same thing. I don’t want my generation to be the one that cuts ties to our Iranian background. I’m not ready to move to Iran, marry an Iranian and make a life there for myself as Azadeh did. Luckily I have a wonderful husband who embraces the culture and is even learning the Persian language himself. But I do want to hold on to the language, the music, and the richness of the culture. So this summer, one of my goals is to learn write the language, improve my “kitchen” Persian, and keep the tradition alive so I can pass it on to our children.