Embedded Files
On this page, I share the questions that come to my mind — ones I don’t yet have answers for. Each could grow into a future research proposal or paper.
Memorial tomb of five unidentified soldiers of the Iran–Iraq War, Iran Street, Tehran.
Do Tombs Hold Power?
Do Tombs Hold Power?
Spiritual Function of the Tomb
In many Iranian communities, the tombs of martyrs are not merely memorials of loss; they are living spaces of connection where the boundaries between life and death grow thin. These resting places draw mourners, believers, and wanderers alike — people who come not only to remember but to encounter. Over time, the tomb itself begins to hold a presence, becoming a spiritual focal point that seems to radiate sanctity, protection, and divine nearness. Within this cultural and emotional landscape arises a profound question:
How does the tomb of martyrs influence the spiritual state or position of their souls?
Arabic calligraphy of the Qur’anic verse: “Nun. By the pen and what they write.” — Surah Al-Qalam (68:1)
Holy Words, Earthly Powers: The Shifting Semantics of Shi'a Discourse after 1979
The Political Transformation of Sacred Language Holy Words, Earthly Powers: The Shifting Semantics of Shi'a Discourse after 1979
This project examines how core Shi‘a Islamic terms such as shahādat, jihād, and wilāyat have changed in meaning since the 1979 Revolution. It explores how political ideology redefined sacred language, transforming theological concepts into tools of power, and how these altered meanings now shape everyday Iranian thought and faith. How come words once divine now serve the language of power? How come language itself became the tool of transformation?
Movement Is Not Only Physical: Women, Motion, and the Threat of "Becoming"
Movement Is Not Only Physical: Women, Motion, and the Threat of "Becoming"
In many religious and traditional societies — including deeply Muslim ones — the idea of women moving freely has always been a point of tension. Whether it’s the way women dress, walk, travel, or drive, movement itself becomes a site of control.
When I went to Qeshm, I saw something that stopped me in my tracks — teenage girls riding heavy motorcycles through the island’s narrow roads. I was amazed. In Tehran, women aren’t allowed to ride motorcycles, so watching these girls move so freely felt like witnessing a small revolution.
Out of excitement, I mentioned how admirable and hopeful this was for young women in the community. But my comment shocked the people around me. The charity's managers — both men and women — reacted with disgust. They saw what I praised as something immoral, even shameful.
The charity I work with is connected to a religious school system. In that space, a girl’s movement — even on a motorcycle — is not just physical. It’s political, moral, and deeply threatening to the system that prefers women to remain still.
For centuries, women have been asked to wear layers of clothing far beyond what the earliest Islamic teachings required — clothes that make walking, running, or even breathing freely difficult. Later, when modern technologies such as cars emerged, religious scholars (all male) often declared them forbidden for women. Even today, in some Muslim countries, women are still legally banned from driving. And in others, like Iran, social pressure continues: some minority women are still prevented by fathers or husbands from taking the wheel.
But why?
How come the women’s movement — a physical, visible, independent movement — so deeply feared?
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