Abstract
I was born in a small town, and being a girl wasn't easy. Being a woman was even harder. Stepping out of the house posed challenges, but then I discovered books. From as far back as I can recall, stories have painted my nights and days, infusing my life with excitement. They became my saviors, giving me wings to soar. Stories granted me freedom, introduced the sensation of love, and illuminated my world with tears, smiles, and joy amid the quiet solitude of my life. They were my constant companions, providing hope and guiding me through the dense forests of existence. Stories transported me to the heights of the skies and the depths of the oceans, introducing me to people and places. They unfolded Paris and London in my imagination, igniting dreams of travel. In essence, stories kept me alive. Today, as I still breathe, I find myself with a wealth of stories to share. For years, I've yearned to tell them in my own way. Three years ago, I stood before the Pacific Ocean for the first time, and I knew it was my moment to narrate my tales. Stories of my journey and the women who have crossed my path. These stories are at times painful but are narratives worth sharing. In these pages, I aim to vividly portray my experiences from nearly three years in the United States, drawing parallels between the lives of women in Iran and the US based on my own journey. While traditional academic writing often takes a broad perspective, I've chosen to thread personal stories from my life into this narrative.
Although a more distant tone is an option, I consider it crucial to emphasize the personal aspect of my observations. My time in the United States has unveiled a significant chapter of my life, characterized by fear and the extended denial of basic freedoms. As a result, this discussion adopts a deeply personal tone because I believe every woman in Iran, or the Middle East would resonate with my perspective upon experiencing genuine freedom. This is, without a doubt, a personal odyssey.