I am a girl from a country you know as Iran. A girl born under the shadow of a religious dictatorship. A country similar to The Handmaid's Tale—but not as hopeless. Do you know why not? Because, as President Snow said in The Hunger Games:
“Hope. It is the only thing stronger than fear. A little hope is effective. A lot of hope is dangerous. A spark is fine, as long as it’s contained.”
I am no hero. In my country, heroes pay the price for their bravery with their lives. They spend their days and nights in the dark corners of prisons, counting days they have left before their execution.
I am the one who watched, who listened, who cried, who longed for freedom and who escaped. I am the one blessed with a mother who defied the norms and the weight of religious ideas to give her children a life she never had.
Back in Iran, we tried to live, to laugh, and to love—even though all of it was forbidden by the Supreme Leader. He demanded that we die for his cause, weep for his beliefs, and hate his so-called enemies.
The outside world sanctioned us, while the inside tortured us. Yet, we still found time for those simple human acts. We would find someone to hold hands with in the shadowy corners of the streets. We would laugh and dance within the safety of our homes and celebrate Persian traditions in places where the hands of the Revolutionary Guard couldn’t reach us.
The Supreme Leader did everything in his power to mould us from a young age, to bend us to his will. His guards burned books that spoke of freedom, censored movies that dared to dream. But they still couldn't extinguish the spirit of freedom within us all. Some rose from the ashes of their hatred, burning so brightly that they exposed the truth. And though they are gone now, their fire continues to burn, inspiring all who witness it to stand against evil.
Who am I, if not a girl who watched heroes rise and fall every day?
I became who I am for one purpose: escape. And now that I have escaped, now that I have found my voice in the freedom of this new world, I am a writer.
The book I am writing is nothing like reality. It is a tale of gods and demons, of healers and devotees. But within its pages, I hope to capture the moments of real heroes I saw. I want to give voice to the suffering of those labelled as “lesser” and the pain of those who dared to see the truth while surrounded by those content to live within lies.
I am my mother’s daughter.
I am Sheila—a girl whose days are filled with both anger and laughter.
Armenia. One of the few countries that allows Iranians to enter without a visa and probably the only place where I can renew mine with a simple border run.
Not even the universe can predict that, let alone me.
Three years ago, I was lucky enough to find an online customer support job, freeing me from working in Turkey. Honestly, I don’t have good experience with Turkish bosses (men).
Do I like my current job? It pays the bills, and my boss is a great woman. But no, I don’t like it. From morning till night, I listen to angry customers. If I ever get the chance, I’ll change my job in a heartbeat.
Too old to think humanity is great, too young to want to die. I was born in 1990—you can figure it out.
Write more books. Like all writers, I have many things to say. I want to write forever.
A man who showed me a new way of life and brought more security to my otherwise chaotic existence. Thanks to him, I’ve visited countries I once thought I never could. His name is in the URL.
I have two sisters whom I love more than anything in the world and a mother whose support and sacrifices have given me the freedom I now cherish. A freedom that she never got herself. My father is a good man but a bit conservative—and by that, I mean Iranian conservative. I love him, but I don’t always like him.
We are both massive fantasy, sci-fi and mythology nerds!
I started making digital art in 2009, and became a full-time freelance artist in 2016, able to work on my own schedule from anywhere in the world.
You can read more about Sheila here.
I created this blog to help young artists make the same journey.
