London embraces all misfits
Tags: Misfits, Iran, London, Iranianrevolution

Four years after the Islamic Revolution and a year before the Iraq-war, Shideh Pourria is questioning her identity just like any other 17-year old. Only difference is that she’s not worried about the boys in her class but her father in jail, not next week’s party but the sharia-law. “I was so sad when I had to flee to the UK, I wanted to fight for Iran.”

With capital punishment as a legal sanction in Iran for almost any kind of crime — going from homosexuality to being politically active — Iran executes most people per capita, except for China. Having vodka in your fridge next to a snitching neighbour, can be life- threatening. Pourria’s experiences as a 17 year old dates form the beginning of the 80’s, although a lot still hasn’t changed today, considering that writing slogans with a marker on a wall or reading a left-wing newspaper is a solid reason to get arrested and executed.

There was no possibility as a teenager to go to university, unless you were utterly religious and hung out in the mosque most of the time. Let alone any kind of self-development. The minute borders opened after being closed for four years, Pourria’s mom managed to get a passport that allowed her two minor daughter’s to travel to the UK. Unlike our alphabet, the Iranian alphabet starts with ‘A-B-C-P-…’, which was in Pourria’s favour as the system operated in alphabetical order and they had such little time. Almost miraculously, they got their hands on one on time.

There was no possibility to say goodbye to anyone, the risk of getting caught was too high. When Pourria visited her dad in prison for the last time, she mentioned an uncle that lived in America and how badly she wanted to go visit him — hoping he would get the hint. A month after arriving in the UK, Pourria found out the police showed up at her doorstep to arrest her, one of her so-called friends in class snitched on her in exchange for a spot at the university. “Although I wouldn’t have done the same, I kind of understand. At some point it’s simply every man for himself.”

Going from a war zone to a country that’s both ruled by Margaret Thatcher, money and fast cars on the one hand and punks on the other hand is, to say the least, confusing. Especially at age 17. “I could hardly connect with anyone. I found everyone so superficial and spoiled. I was convinced they didn’t know what real life was.”

During the first few months Shideh was lonely and scared — London got dark early at the time, and still traumatised from a city filled with bombs, she was always on the look-out. After a while she started to look for things that resonated with her. British cinema, literature and music eventually bridged traditional Iran and progressive London. “We would pay £5 for opera tickets with seats all the way in the back”, remembers Pourria ,“I couldn’t stop smiling.”

“Did you bring the Vietnamese spring rolls?” asks Shideh as her teenage son walks into their South-Eastern London home, he just went to the market. Shideh lived here for 37 years now, married with two kids and a job as a medical doctor. For that last one, her surname was never a problem, by the way. “London is so allow-full for everything that’s alternative. The city welcomes all kinds of misfits, like me. There are so many different communities: Asian, Middle-Eastern, African, American. You’re likely to fit into at least one.” Although she’s not quite sure if that would’ve been the same elsewhere in the UK.

“But what is ‘British’ actually?”, replies Pourria when she’s asked if she feels more Iranian or British. “I never was a traditional Iranian, but I’m definitely not British.” Pourria doesn’t think nationalities identify us anymore, in a world full of cross fertilisation. It’s like having a dinner with vegetables but also with cheese, with meat but also with fish. “I guess I am just my own personal mix, a transcultural. One who’s fortunate enough to live in a time where people mix up and simply bring to the table what’s theirs.”