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I Am the Face of Marriage Equality: Aram and Farzad (October 1, 11)

In a country where love between two people of the sames sex is punishable by imprisonment, torture, and death, a story of two men, whose affection for one another is stronger than the hate in their native land, begins. Aram, who is 32, and his partner Farzad, who is 25, have been together now for almost three years.  Their journey of love has had many obstacles, but together they have faced them, and it has made their love strong. Let's go back to Christmas Eve of 2008, when fate brought these two hearts together.  Aram, whose family had abandoned him due to his sexual orientation, and who had now lived alone for several years, wanted to make a new destiny for himself and find someone to share his life with. 

I Did Not Kill My Dad. (May 5, 11)

When my father died, I went only to the first day of the funeral. It was not that I didn’t grieve. No matter how difficult our relationship had been, no matter how many times he yelled at or slapped me, no matter how much I disappointed him because I would never be the son he wanted, he was still my father. I wanted to be there to show my respect, but I could only stomach the dirty looks of my relatives for so long. They didn’t want me to be there. I had known this since the day my father died, discovered laying face down on our living room floor. The day passed by like a blur and I can only remember bits and pieces; my mother trying to wake him; my sister and I calming her down enough to drive to the hospital; the doctor’s cold, direct diagnosis of heart-attack. And I remember when my uncle arrived at our house. “You killed your father,” he muttered to me. “Murderer.”

I am Roya, A Transwoman. (March 14th, 11)

Although Bahram was the name given to me at birth, the name my family and friends called me for the majority of my life, it only ever referred to one part of my mind. When I would play games with the boys in my neighbourhood (I always liked playing with the boys more than the girls!), when I played rough-house, when my father gave me ‘manly’ tasks around the house, I was Bahram. But there was always someone else in there as well. This person was still me, only female. Some days when I woke up, she woke up too. I felt like her when I was doing domestic chores, like washing the dishes or rearranging the furniture in my room. She was this womanly presence that existed sometimes beside, sometimes on top, of my everyday life.

I Love You. Good Bye. (September 14, 10)

“Can I have a few minutes to change my clothes?” I asked the two police officers who stood at my front door. They reluctantly grunted a reply and I slipped back into my house. I moved very quickly. I went to my room and packed a few belongings into a backpack. The mind works in bizarre ways; I remembered to pack a sweater and my toothbrush, but I almost forgot my passport and my diabetes medicine. I didn’t linger too long in my room as I knew the officers would get impatient quickly.

As a gay asylum seeker, I was lucky (May 22, 10)

A while ago, I was granted refugee status in the UK on the basis of my homosexuality and my political activities in Iran. As a person who has shared the same stress of being a gay asylum seeker in the UK with lots of other applicants, I was happy yesterday to hear that the coalition agreement between the Tories and the Lib Dems included a promise to "stop the deportation of asylum seekers who have had to leave particular countries because their sexual orientation or gender identification puts them at proven risk of imprisonment, torture or execution".  

Dull Window and Nurses in their damned white attire (November 3, 08)

Looking at discouraging walls and their cold attitude beside my bed… Why every time that I open my eyes to that dull windows, I have to face a nurse in damn white attire… She is bringing the medicine box again... asking me if I still don’t want to have any visitor.  

Flogged for Throwing a Gay Party (June 20, 07)

I have always wondered if keeping silent about the status quo can lead to peace of mind, or whether a scream in protesting the misery caused by certain events is a more logical response.  Despite the heterogeneity of Iranian society in general and Iranian queer community in particular, sometimes the oppressive events of the day force us to action.