Possible Causes and Effects of Cited High Blood Pressure
[Originally published in Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self]
If your Father died of heart disease
If you have Sleep Apnea
If you have irregular sleeping schedule
If you are overweight
If you have a late night binge eating habit
If you take caffeinated Energy Supplements
If you Drink Caffeinated Tea and Hot Chocolate
If you Use heavily salted spices like Chicken Bouillon Cubes
If you’re not getting enough “regular” cardio exercise
If you’re inconsistent with your daily meditation practice
If you ruminate about the past: its afflictions and perceived malfeasances
If you harbor resentments regarding sociopolitical and racial injustices
If you feel constant stings of Minority Stress through Micro Aggressions of racism
If you are BLACK!
The Only Way to See the Stars…[Originally published in Fleury’s book You Are Enough: The Journey to Accepting Your Authentic Self]
I often wonder why I smile even when sad
Thudding of my heart hearkening back
To recidivist scars running my fingers
Over the scabs abrading the cut of the
Blade and making my way in a world full
Of hurt people who hurt people
A pejorative and abortive choice
So smiling instead of snarling helps me
Remember even if bliss turns to distress
To see the stars is through the darkness…
The Story of a Forgotten People ~ Rohingya~ As told by Kristy Raines and Faisal Justin
The Story of a Forgotten People ~ Rohingya~ (As told by Kristy Raines and Faisal Justin)
There are some stories that make us laugh, make us cry, teach us something, or leave a lasting impression. This story has all of this. But this is a story that for now, has no ending… Now looking back, I have to say, that I may have been the one who benefited most from this story. It will all make sense in the end… And this is where the story begins.
He goes by the name of Faisal Justin and we casually spoke while we worked in the same poetry group. We both are poets and he had written his second book of poetry called, “Poetic Healing.”
Faisal and I had a conversation one day where he began telling me about his people; The Rohingya people. I had never heard of them and when I look back, I wondered, why? I never heard about them on the news, magazines, or anywhere else. As Faisal started telling me the story, I was quite disturbed with what I was hearing. But I knew that I wanted to help in some way. I know now that sending small donations, with good intentions, is not the way, though I am sure they are very much appreciated, which I did to help the children especially. It will take so much more to make an impact. These People lost not only their homes, they lost their whole country and had to flee for their lives… Quite unbelievable.
But, I think the best way to really start this story, is to begin with the story of the genocide of the Rohingya people and how this even happened. Then I will let this unbelievable young man tell his remarkable story of how he survived in the refuge camp of Cox’s Bazar, and how his world change remarkably. I promise you, this has a happy ending for him and it is my hope that this story changes your lives and gives you a huge sense of gratitude of the word, “Freedom”. I also hope that this story prompts everyone to contact governmental entities and sign petitions to help these people return to their homeland safely or at least find them a wonderful new one of freedom. It is all of our problem.. It is a matter of what is right. The Rohingya refugee crisis is one of the worst forced displacement situations crisis in the world.
It has been seven years since over 742,000 Rohingya people, (half of whom were children), had to flee for their lives from the brutal massacres. Entire villages were burned to the ground, thousands of families were killed or separated and massive human rights violations were reported. The persecution of Rohingya Muslims in Myanmar, also known as (Burma), persisted on a regular basis by the government and Buddhist nationalists. In late 2016, Myanmar’s armed forces and police launched a major crackdown against the people in Rakhine State which is located in the country’s northwestern region.
The Burmese military has been accused of committing ethnic cleansing and genocide. More than one million Rohingya refugees have fled violence in Myanmar, in successive waves of displacement. Rohingya refugees are living in Bangladesh, with a majority settled in and around Kutupalong and Nayapara refugee camps in Bangladesh’s Cox’s Bazar region — some of the largest and most densely populated in the world. The date, August 25, 2017 to be exact, was the exodus that many remember; when they fled in horror as they watched their family members and friends being brutally murdered, raped and run out of their own country.
Now, and for many years, the camps where they exist are over crowded, filled with illness, unacceptable medical care, unclean water, no jobs and kept captive in a what I would call a prison without walls.
On top of the concerns of violence against the people, such as rape, human trafficking gang activity, starvation and losing hope, no jobs, and the cut of monthly allotments for food to 8 dollars a month, they weather the harsh climate of excessive heat, cold, cyclones and monsoons in homes made from whatever materials they can find for shelter. After this many years under these impossible living conditions, many are growing weary to go on. Some of the people living there who I have become close to have said that death would be far more better than going on.
No one in this day and age should have to live like this. Many countries in the past talk of helping them, yet to let them down over and over. Most of the people who were fortunate enough to receive an education or were aloud to go to school have started home schools, which in itself is dangerous for those that attempt to educate the young. It is illegal to do so for the Rohingya children. In a genocide, no one has rights. I give these teachers so much credit for taking the chance. And another thing. The teachers and students are extremely intelligent and so young for knowing so much. They work hard, studying. They soak up and appreciate learning. Without education the future for a thriving generation will not stand a chance.
If someone takes away education, a way to protect themselves, and tries to take away people’s religion and hope, and you have the basic recipe for a genocide. The teachers in the refugee camps get beat up and worse when they stand up to the tyranny. But yes, they keep pushing forward for the sake of the generations to come. If the people fight back, they truly pay for doing so with their lives at times, but I give them so much credit for their service. I am hoping to become a loud and helpful voice for the Rohingya people, because when the brave raise their voice, they are met with beatings, abductions and are in the path of danger for doing so. Now that is bravery. I want to raise awareness so other’s around the world will do the same. In my eyes, the Rohingya people are warriors and survivalists. They survive a inhumane life on a daily basis that no one deserves. I have gotten to know some of the Rohingya People in some of the the refugee camps and have formed bonds and friendships with some of the most wonderful people I have ever met. So many are like family to me.
Education, writing, poetry and photography have become an outlet for the youth of the Rohingya and even a form of healing. Only with awareness and help from other countries will the Rohingya get justice and hopefully a safe passage back to their homeland and a safe environment for them in their own country which they miss so much. These people have changed my life. I love so much deeper and appreciate things so much more. I was humbled by these friends I made. I have benefited greatly by meeting so many wonderful, loving, and extremely determined and forgiving people. The story now turns to one very young and brave man, and my friend, Faisal Justin, who had the drive and determination to change his destiny, and I am very honored to have him tell his story in his own words. I could never tell this story as well as he could. Thank you Faisal, for agreeing to tell your story.
Title: From Discrimination to Freedom: A Journey of Hope and Resilience ~Faisal Justin~
I was born and grew up in Key Nouck Thi village, Arakan state of Myanmar. By age 14, the tantalizing taste of freedom would forever elude my eager grasp. My childhood was a tragic nightmare and a pitiable existence that no soul should ever endure. We were forever confined into 3-4 kilometers encompassed by police checkpoints all around. It necessitated arduous permissions from the authorities to go and stay a night in a relative house in another village. The prospect of venturing into the neighboring city was strictly prohibited for those who, like me, hailed from a Muslim family and owned a title Rohingya. I spent my childhood full of insecurity for the fear of military as there were no choice for them to use as a slave. When I was a child, my parents used to console me by saying “Stop crying, my child, for the police are coming” from a very young age the deep-rooted fear of police placed in my heart.
“School is a place where teachers teach students the difference between flaws and rights” instead we were taught discrimination in school. We had to sit separately in the school benches between Buddhist students and Muslim students as instructed by the teachers. And often faced harassment from the opposite students and the teachers didn’t accept the complaints at all. Unbelievable but bitter truth. The Buddhist students held a privileged status while the Rohingya students were treated as second-class students. It’s totally heartbreaking to articulate the oppressive atmosphere extended beyond our educational institution, with police brutality, forced labor, and unspeakable violence perpetrated against my people. I still remember when I was class six, I returned from the tuition in the evening and then went to play football near my home. Suddenly, a group of military entered the village and collected bamboos from our yards. We were called from the playground and forced to carry those bamboos to the river in their boats. Regardless of the age and status, they used as salves.
My educational dream was vanished in 2017 when I was just a matriculation student. On Friday night in August 25, 2017, the militaries started gun shooting towards our homes, it was like hearing the sound of Christmas fireworks. I frighteningly woke up and wondered if I was in a nightmare but it was in real. Hundreds of thousands of people were killed and homes were burned down to the ground. I had no hope of surviving in this world and I was quite sure that my dead was on that Friday. I already recited the dead Dua and ready to die with that gun bullets as there were no ways to rescue myself. There were also records that the whole families were killed. The 10th day of journey to Bangladesh refugee camps was something that awakens my heart every second. Through muddy roads and slippery high mountains consumed our tears and blood during monsoon, heavy rain and thunderstorms. It was the hardest thing we’ve ever found leaving home and looking back around stepping slowly filled with tears and heartache. My eyes witnessed that hundreds of thousands of our people were killed even during our journey to finding refuge and some of us were fortunate enough to escape the massacre and sought refuge in neighboring Bangladesh.
I’ll remain ever grateful to the welcoming country Bangladesh for giving a place of refuge in their country while we were fighting with our lives.
“Being a refugee was not a choice. By fate I needed to be.”
I can’t describe in words how bad it feels to having a refugee life and having a refugee status. The Bangladesh refugee camp was a place of desperation, with overcrowded tents, curfews, scarcity of food, and rampant criminal activity within. The loss of formal education for children and the constant fear of abduction added further challenges to an already dire situation. $8 per month for a person, can you imagine how a person can survive on 8 US dollars the whole month? Many suffered from starvation and also many lacked basic necessities.
I’ve worked as a humanitarian and social worker for ICR (International Rescue Committee) and ACF (Action Contre la Fame). I was a teacher, sharing what I know with the community was my liability. I listened to everyone’s stories in the camp by monitoring door to door when I worked for NGOs. I was so devastated hearing all the awful and obstacles in the lives of my people. I couldn’t help but feel. I found a new challenge every single day that demotivated me to even give up on life. The perpetrators in the camp abhorred educated people, gave death threats and sometimes some even carried them out. Such a distressing situation forced me to leave the camp by any means possible.
Driven by a desire for freedom and a better life, I discussed with my family and left the camp. I can’t forget the moment I stepped on the little boat and the waves badly shoved and lifted the boat. The boat was more likely to sink in the middle of the sea and that was another moment of my life when I lost hope of my life. With a very narrow mind and relentlessly calling upon God, finally I could get my destination. This treacherous journey took one night and one day across the sea to ultimately find Sittwe, a city in Arakan state. I was playing with my life and took very serious risk while I was going to Yangon the bustling capital of Myanmar from Sittwe after one week with a fake ID by plane.
However, life in Yangon presented its own set of challenges, from language barriers to lack of legal documentations. Forced to rely on the kindness of relatives, I navigated these adversities and eventually obtained a national identity card, which became a turning point in my journey. People who don’t know about me think I had the best life in Yangon. My life in Yangon was the worst of my life so far. I was in constant fear of the police without proper documentation, belonging a Muslim face and staying in someone else’s house. As a very sensitive man, I can’t tolerate sharp words from others but I had to bear according to the situations.
After six months, I went to the passport office to get a passport. Unfortunately, the authorities knew I was a fake guy trying to make a passport. My life was then in their hands, I was threatened a lot. After few hours they agreed to release me with money fine. The day passed and I returned home. I can’t explain by words how bad I felt as my life was at risk even to stay at home and my relatives were also afraid of keeping me. I had nowhere to go and I often decided to give up on my life.
With determination fueling my patience and actions, I sought an opportunity to escape my troubled past and made another attempt to make a passport with an agent after two months. With the help of the agent, I obtained a passport.
I embarked on a heart-stopping journey to leave my fearful country Myanmar. Faced with the constant fear of being discovered due to language barriers and fake documents during immigrating Myanmar airport, my life was in a very serious risk and danger. But along with God’s help I could overcome the fear and could cross all those limits. My resilience and bravery were tested at every step.
I came to Thailand by plane from Myanmar and tried hard for a Netherlands visa, I failed terribly. I couldn’t get a visa. I went to four different countries just to get a Netherlands visa. I got one from a country and I was so excited but when my time came to attend the plane I was inhumanely rejected saying you’re not eligible for the Netherlands. My world was shattered and I almost felt unconscious. However, I did not give up trying to seek asylum in the Netherlands. I made one more attempt from another country then I got approved fortunately. And then I arrived at the Netherlands airport and asked for asylum.
The arrival in the Netherlands marks the beginning of a new chapter in my life. Grateful for the opportunities and support provided by the Dutch government, I find solace and peace in my newfound refuge. The process of seeking asylum may be long, but I express my heartfelt gratitude for the freedom and safety I have found in this welcoming country.
Looking back on my arduous journey, I reflect on the invaluable lessons I have learned throughout this transformative experience. My unwavering determination and resilience have taught me the power of perseverance and the ability to overcome even the most daunting obstacles. I express my eternal gratitude to the Netherlands and share my belief in the importance of embracing diversity and extending a helping hand to those in need.
In concluding my remarkable story, I leave readers with a message of hope and a reminder that, despite the challenges we face, anything is possible with a brave and willing heart. By standing up for one’s dreams and never giving up, individuals can triumph over the darkest of circumstances. My poignant tale may encourage readers to remember the importance of empathy, compassion, and the pursuit of a better world for all.
Update~
After a year in the Netherlands, I see yet another massive massacre in Arakan like I saw in 2017. I’m deeply saddened and distressed by the plight of the Rohingya’s in Arakan, Myanmar. It’s not so easy to be born in Myanmar where religion matters, race matters, face matters, above all being born as a Muslim is a big crime for the brutal government. Since decades, the government has been persecuting the Rohingya people and now again AA (Arakan Army) a terrorist group of Rakhine ethnic who are trying to take over Arakan are persecuting the Rohingya people. Dozens of people are killed every day, houses are burnt down. Thousands of people are now homeless in the town of Bhuthidang since the AA set fire to the entire town in May 2024. People had to leave the homes they loved and thousands died at the same time. Imagine hundreds and thousands of people staying on the ground without a roof in the baking heat with no food and even humanitarian actors with no way to reach them for some livelihood. All the roads are blocked by the AA and they take pleasure in seeing the suffering of these defenseless people.
The horrific acts of violence and brutality by the AA and military are truly heartbreaking. I’m very saddened and angry to see the profound suffering experienced by the innocent Rohingya victims. The pain and anguish felt by young girls being raped, young people being arrested or disappearing, and children losing their parents and then turning into orphans are genuinely heart-wrenching. I’m furious to see both AA and military taking refuge in Rohingya’s villages by the intention of harming innocent Rohingya people. Thousands of people died during the war and conflict between AA and military. Rohingya youths are arrested by the military and then used them as human shield during war against AA. In due time the AA burnt down the houses of Rohingya and brutally tortured. It clearly highlights how the innocent are often caught in the crossfire of political and ideological battles.
Their true intention is to clear all the Rohingya people from Arakan. The brutal killings and targeted violence aimed at wiping out the Rohingya people speak to a larger, more insidious plan to eradicate an entire group of people. The way they are killing now inhumanly, all the people will finish very soon. It’s a gentle reminder of the urgent need for the global community to step in and take decisive action to protect the fundamental rights and dignity of all individuals, regardless of their background or ethnicity or who they are. It is a reminder that the world must unite in solidarity to confront and address these grave injustices before it is too late. – Faisal Justin
A Day in A Refugee Camp
As the sun rises and sets
Baking heat waves on the roof
The tents that are too small
Skins boil under tarpaulins
Family gathering suffocates
A day in refugee camp isn’t easy
With limited head-count rations
The desire to have something died
For they have rations not income
A day is long and very hopeful
And is filled with waiting and fret
A life that goes with full of tears
Children play in the dirt,
With the mud as the toys.
Their education is obscure And the future is uncertain
Parents smile through tears
Trying to make the children happy
With fears, stress and anxiety
A life in refugee camp passes by
Wondering what tomorrow will bring
For a life and future that is unsure
Since they’re displaced from home,
And forced to migrate violently.
The sun will rise again tomorrow
Another day in the camp will begin
With the same hope and fears
Constantly dream of a better life
The outside world is just an illusion
And always yearn to live a peaceful life
In conclusion, I would like to thank Faisal Justin for sharing his story of hope and bravery, with the world. This was truly an amazing journey to not only a new life, but also to many more opportunities. His story will no doubt inspire others to hold tight to their dreams and to never give up.
It is also my hope, Faisal, that your story will also help others around the world understand the Rohingya people, the horrific crimes committed against them that still going on today, the crisis in the refugee camps, and the ongoing suffering of the Rohingya people. I wish for justice for what they have gone through and hope in the future there will be a complete resolution for them, with one day, a safe return to their homeland, Arakan.
Faisal, You are now in a safe and healthy environment, my friend. I hope you will now be able to lead a beautiful and happy new life. It was a pleasure working together on this story, Faisal. Thank you..
-Kristy Raines-
If anyone is interested in donating to help the Rohingya people, there are many Go-Fund-Me campaigns online, collecting funds to help in aiding different needs of the Rohingya people. Some are emergency campaigns, some are for the women, and some are for the education of the children. Just go to Gofundme.com and type in the search, “Rohingya”. Many campaigns will show up and you can choose whose campaign you’d like to donate to. For me, they are the best choice. I feel more comfortable that my money is actually going to the people.
For more information, please visit the Holocaust Museum in Washington D.C to see exhibition in person, or go to the site to see and see it. Here is the link.
Photo of a reddish-brown haired and smiling woman with a necklace and black and white tank top next to a man with brown hair and a collared blue shirt.
TODAY, WITHOUT YOU
Talk to me, as if you don't know anything.
Recognize me, as a woman in a poem
I will go find your music,
Please turn the sound down, it's too loud.
Turn your gaze to mine
A halo of hope would have been enough.
How much winter threatens to freeze your skin,
It would be enough to finish the time
The moment your eyes closed.
Today without you, I only feel cold
Frequent uncertainty
Shadow gaps
Fear that paralyzes
You are no longer...
A thousand voices shout at me and I dissolve in them
You burst like a whip into my wounded side.
I arrived crying...
I look for you in the house,
I hug a sigh.
I look at the horizon that doesn't know
Where I lost the memory,
Your absence embraces me,
The tide of tears does not pause.
And so I fall asleep, while your
Dear husband
Rest in peace
June 20, 2024
GRACIELA NOEMI VILLAVERDE is a writer and poet from Concepción del Uruguay (Entre Rios) Argentina, based in Buenos Aires She graduated in letters and is the author of seven books of poetry, awarded several times worldwide. She works as the World Manager of Educational and Social Projects of the Hispanic World Union of Writers and is the UHE World Honorary President of the same institution Activa de la Sade, Argentine Society of Writers. She is the Commissioner of Honor in the executive cabinet IN THE EDUCATIONAL AND SOCIAL RELATIONS DIVISION, of the UNACCC SOUTH AMERICA ARGENTINA CHAPTER.
Education Unleashed: Unlocking Potential and Creating Opportunities
Introduction:
Education is a powerful force that has the ability to unlock the potential within individuals and create a world of opportunities. It is a transformative journey that empowers individuals to grow, learn, and contribute to society. In this article, we will explore how education, when unleashed, becomes a catalyst for personal and societal growth, enabling individuals to overcome barriers, pursue their passions, and shape a brighter future.
1. Breaking Barriers: Education has the remarkable ability to break down barriers that hinder personal and societal progress. It provides access to knowledge, skills, and opportunities that can bridge the gap between social and economic disparities. By leveling the playing field, education enables individuals from all walks of life to pursue their dreams and aspirations, regardless of their backgrounds or circumstances.
2. Empowering Individuals: When education is unleashed, it empowers individuals to take control of their lives and shape their own destinies. It equips them with the necessary knowledge, critical thinking skills, and confidence to make informed decisions, solve complex problems, and adapt to an ever-changing world. Education nurtures curiosity, creativity, and a thirst for lifelong learning, empowering individuals to explore new horizons and seize opportunities.
3. Fostering Innovation: Education is the breeding ground for innovation and progress. When individuals are equipped with knowledge and skills, they become agents of change, capable of driving innovation in various fields. By encouraging critical thinking, problem-solving, and collaboration, education unleashes the creative potential within individuals, fostering a culture of innovation that leads to breakthrough discoveries, technological advancements, and societal development.
4. Cultivating Global Citizenship: Education goes beyond academic learning; it cultivates global citizenship and nurtures empathy, compassion, and respect for diverse cultures and perspectives. When education is unleashed, it fosters an understanding of global issues, promotes tolerance, and encourages individuals to actively participate in creating a more just and sustainable world. It instills values of social responsibility and equips individuals with the skills to address pressing global challenges.
5. Driving Economic Growth: Education is a key driver of economic growth and prosperity. When individuals are educated, they are better prepared to enter the workforce, contribute to the economy, and drive innovation and productivity. Education unleashes human capital, creating a skilled workforce that fuels economic development, attracts investments, and fosters entrepreneurship. It paves the way for economic mobility, reducing poverty, and creating a more equitable society.
Conclusion:
Education unleashed has the power to transform lives, societies, and the world at large. It breaks barriers, empowers individuals, fosters innovation, cultivates global citizenship, and drives economic growth. As we recognize the immense potential of education, it becomes our collective responsibility to ensure equitable access to quality education for all. By investing in education, we unlock the true potential of individuals and create a future filled with endless possibilities and opportunities for everyone.
Remember, education is not just about acquiring knowledge, but about the journey of self-discovery and personal growth. Embrace education, unleash your potential, and let it be the guiding light in your pursuit of a better tomorrow.
Image of a light skinned young woman with a knit sweater and short blonde hair up in a bun holding a copy of Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis, which has black and white cartoon images of a family up against a black background and green and white text.
Critically examine Marjane Satrapi’s “Persepolis” as a graphic novel. Or
Discuss the significance of the veil in Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis. Or
How are the Islamic fundamentalists represented in the book Persepolis? What suggestions does Satrapi make about the relationship between faith and fanaticism?
Marjane Satrapi’s “Persepolis” is the woven into the new found literary form positing the new found respectability of book length graphic novels—-accessible, vernacular and with mass popular appeal—-historicized memorabilia corresponding to mass murder, massacre, genocide, holocaust, brutality, harassment, execution and bombing amidst Iran-Iraq war. Fragmented, disembodied, and divided between frames suggestive of psychological trauma as connoted in the epiphany of “The Veil”. A visual chronicle of childhood rooted and articulated through momentous, and traumatic and historic events about the verbal and visual practice of never forgetting.
An unsmiling veiled girl sitting with her arms crossed in the center of the frame. She situates the exposition to the reader “This is me when I was 10 years old […] This was in 1980.” A hand, a bent elbow, and chest length veil separates herself from the class photography as spacings within pictorial frame purports disruption of her own characterological presence. An icon of single eye, directly engaging the reader, dangling over the book’s very first gutter, reminding readers at the outset that we are aligned with Satrapi’s penetrating vision and enabling retracing of that vision: “I give myself this duty of witnessing.” A crowd of masses throwing their fists in the air in front of a stark black background represents Islamic Revolution and then the veiling mandate of 1980.
Persepolis narrates the trials and tribulations of precocious Marji and her upperclass leftist parents exasperation with the Iranian political regime; and Marji’s pricked consciousness ; holocausts, homicides and suicides of friend circle and family relations; havoc wreaked by Iraq-Iran geopolitical crises and Marji;s fierce and dangerous outspokenness eventually inspires her parents to deport her abroad at a safer sheltered asylum away from the trepidation and perturbance; her mother becomes comatose state of being as Marji departs Iran.
Satrapi’s text is framed diegetically and externally to the introductory injunctions of “never forgetting” as Uncle Anoosh, the naxalite prisoner advises her niece during executionary wish-fulfillment: “Our family memory must not be lost. Even if it isn’t easy for you, even if you don’t understand it at all.” Satrapi’s multiple autobiographical voices illustrative of the vignettes of selves——-Satrapi’s older and recollective voice registering of overarching narrative text while the younger and directly experiencing voice registering of dialogue and throughout pictorial space——the visual voice.
States of being of memory and matter of factness reinforce Satrapi’s renegotiations between versions of herself showing us the visual and discursive process of never forgetting. Satrapi unfolds the procedure of memory through spatializing form of comics, which visualizes and enmeshes overlapping of selves and their locations. Persepolis’s presentation of pictorial space is discursive. Satrapi displays the political horror of producing and marking ordinary childhood by offering what seems to the reader to be the visual disjuncture in her child’s eye rendition of trauma.
This expressionism weaves the process of memory into the book’s technique of visualization. Satrapi’s stark style is monochromatic—–there is no evident shading technique; she offers black and white. However the visual emptiness of simple, ungraded blackness in frames showcase the depthness of the condition of remembrance as pointed out by Kate Flint’s words: “maybe elicited by the deliberate empty spaces, inviting the projection of that which can be seen only in the mind’s eye to an inviting vacancy.”
Persian miniatures, murals and friezes of public skirmishes appear as stylized and symmetrical bodies, surfeiting mere mimetic representations interlaced with the Persianness of historical avant-garde. “I was born in a country in a certain time, and I was witness to many things. I was a witness to a revolution. I was a witness to war. I was a witness to a huge emigration”——collective ethos of harrowing sense of death casts her imaginative selfhood to a culture pervaded by violence and retribution. Penultimate panel of “The Letter” suggests the Iranian landscapes and the grimly grotesque configuration of horizontally stretched out and abstractly stacked corpses/ mass dead bodies. “We had demons demonstrated on that very day we shouldn’t have: on Black Friday. That day there was so many killed in one neighbourhoods that a rumour spread that Israeli soldiers were responsible for the slaughter.”
“The Cigarette” in “The Persepolis” demonstrates three-tiers of imbrications of the historical routine [execution] and the personal routine [sneaking cigar] depicting blindfolded prisoners about to be executed against a wall, directly above and below frames in which we view Marji in that prosaic, timeless rite of initiation: smoking her first cigar. This retrospective mode of narratorial address to the audience from within the pictorial space of the frame and the body politic of tender hearted Marjai is unusual in the text; blurring of voices and register here works with the blurrings of the historical and the everyday registers that is also part of the narrative suggestion of the page.
Ethical, verbal and visual practice of not forgetting is not merely about exposing and challenging the virulent machinations of historicization but is more specifically about examining and bearing witness to the intertwining of the everyday and the historical. Its polemical resonance lies in the fact that visually virtuosic is required to represent the political trauma that plagues Marji’s childhood. Persepolis is thus the reimagination and reconstruction that retraces the literal growing child body in space, reinscribing that body to generate a framework in which versions of selfsome stripped of agency, in which some are possessed by it——-in productive conversation. Persepolis’ feminist graphic narrative harnesses visibility politics magnified by the lenses of visual ethics aesthetics showcasing the censured and censored through representation and resymbolization.
McCloud pointed out that segmented pictorial illustrations in the form of comic book or graphic novel transforms the temporal relationships into the spatial matrix. Pictorial framing can be related to ideological framing——-the filtering of information, of news, of times, of identities, of nationalities and gender——through templates and through structures of feelings that produce predetermined judgements of values narrativized translations of experience. “We the kids in America” become the epitome of the youth generation’s voice as an ideological frame narrative symbolic of Western cultural imperialism intruding as a lurking anthem in the Marjane Satrapi frame-within-frame fantasy of Western counter cultural identity in the image of Kim Wilde.
Satrapi’s bricolage and appropriation, borrowing, mixture of heterogeneous culture resonates both state societal interpellation as pedagogical and civil societal interpellation as performativity that both function as frames and mirrors of self. Both constructs of fictions of the self. Marjane Satrapi’s grandmother advices the granddaughter: “But there is nothing worse than bitterness and vengeance […] Always keep your dignity and be true to yourself”, while the latter embracing folding cuddling of the former. “I smelled my grandmother’s bosom. It smelled good. I cannot forget that smell” resonates Proustian motif with the advice bestowed upon by the family matriarch about the jerks she is destined to meet throughout her life.
Lacanian terms of prelinguistic and extralinguistic formation of subjectivity—-the contrast in Persepolis is not only between a prelinguistic visual reflection of the self and an adult linguistic reflection, but the non visual bodily and sensory reflection of the self in the matriarch other and the visual and the exilic reflection of the self outside home and nation. The mirrored frames of the panels function in Persepolis as subjective fragmentation, unstability and uncertainty. Satrapi’s exodus life is as diasporic selfhood re establishes the cultural icon of hijab as the symbolic icon of familiarity of national and familial belonging casting off claustrophobic marginalization: “so much for my individual and social liberties […] I need so badly to go home.”
Marjane Satrapi’s contrasting frame of panels demarcating bachelorette virginity and consummated maidenhood by her reflections of brightly smiling long hair, makeup and short wear with trimmed laces, and sitting in front of a window overlooking a garden of birds; and Marjane’s reflection of a girl smoking cigar, wearing black pants and shirts, sitting in front of a dark night. Adulthood and independent agency reciprocate her mother’s amity with the tenderly hugging in the event and divorce of the daughter with the fiance Reza. Iran’s borders/cultures/geopolitics were clandestinely breached by the import of Westernization though the imposition of hegemonic tradition and culture such as Nike Shoes and Michael Jackson Badge smuggled by Satrapi’s parents from Turkey. Shallow consumerism by emulation of Western fashion overthrown to indictment that ultimately enforced diasporic exodus. Marjane’s expedition in pursuance of cassettes entails her knowledgeable and feisty dealings with the male black marketeers. Verily the confession of her affirmative tone justifies her duality of personae looming with the void of claustrophobia and xenophobia : “I was nothing. I was a Westerner in the Iran and an Iranian in the West. I had no identity.”
Patricia Storace critiques the transcendental transformation and brings to light the transmogrified narrative technique to the effect of transvaluation that uses style “which offers a benevolent, trustworthy world, like a fresco in a nursery and the matter of fact breaks our hearts with it, creating confrontation between what is drawn as adorable with the world that does not require its claims to protection, hope or love.” Satrapi is intuitive, inquisitive and precocious and her quest for identity causes a self questioning of gender, class and social status as cultural markers——self-reflection as the narrator of her illustrated past greatly contributes to the value of her memoir. “In a cartoon world she [Marjane Satrapi] creates, the photographs function less as illustrations than as records of actions, a kind of visual journalism. On the other hand, dialogues and descriptions are changing unpredictably in visual style and placement on the page within its balloons, advancing frame by frame like the verbal equivalent of a movie. Each element would be quite useless without the other; like a pair of dancing partners, Satrapi’s text and images comment on each other, enhance each other, challenges, questions and reveal each other.”
Further Reading
Hilary Chute’s The Texture of Retracing in Marjane Satrapi’s ‘Persepolis’, Women’s Studies Quarterly, Spring-Summer 2008, Vol. 36, No. 1 /2, Witness (Spring-Summer 2008), pp. 92-110, The Feminist Press at the City University of New York
Babak Elahi’s [Rochester Institute of Technology] Frames and Mirrors in Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis, symmboke, 2007, Vol. 15, No. 1 / 2, Cinema Without Borders, 2007, pp. 312-325, University of Nebraska Press.
Ann Miller’s [University of Leicester] Marjane Satrapi’s: Eluding the Frames, L’Esprit Createur, Spring 2011, Volume 51, No. 1, Watch This Space: Women’s Conceptualizations of Space in Contemporary French Film and Visual Art [Spring 2011], pp. 38-52.
J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is old enough to know better. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Horror Sleaze Trash, The Asylum Floor, The Rye Whiskey Review, Disturb the Universe Magazine and The Beatnik Cowboy. His new book with Casey Renee Kiser, Altered States of the Unflinching Souls, will be coming out in August of 2024. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights.
