Dear Readers,

Imagine a woman in 1950s Iran, pen in hand, daring to write what others only whispered. In a society that silenced female voices, Forugh Farrokhzad roared, claiming her voice against suppression.

Born in Tehran in 1935, Forugh became a revolution in human form. While women were expected to write of gardens and gentle love, she dared to pen lines that transformed her from a defiant young poet into one of Persian literature’s most profound voices.

So, what happens when a woman decides her truth is worth more than society's comfort? Forugh's first collection, The Captive (1955), nailed this question. Consider these lines from Sin, where she boldly declared:

I have sinned a rapturous sin
in a warm enflamed embrace,
sinned in a pair of vindictive arms,
arms violent and ablaze.

Don’t these lines sound like declarations of independence? In a culture where women's desires were silenced, Forugh’s bold confessions transformed the personal into cultural rebellion.

Her later work, particularly Another Birth (1963), went even further, grasping universal truths. When she wrote:

My whole being is a dark chant
that will carry you
perpetuating you
to the dawn of eternal growths and blossomings

she envisioned a collective renewal where others—yes, even you and me—could see our own dreams of freedom reflected.

In her most prescient work, I Pity the Garden, Forugh painted a clear picture of a society in change. The dying garden she mourned still feels relevant to today’s Iran:

No one thinks of the flowers.
No one thinks of the fish.
No one wants to believe the garden is dying.

When Forugh died in 1967 at just 32, she left behind a legacy of fire. Her words have found new life in every subsequent Iranian struggle for freedom, from the 1979 Revolution to today's Woman, Life, Freedom movement—a movement calling for justice, equality, and dignity. Her poetry appears on protest signs and social media posts, proving that true art never dies—it evolves to meet each new generation's needs.

Her final collection, Let Us Believe in the Beginning of the Cold Season, reads like a prophecy. In The Wind Will Take Us, she writes:

In my small night, oh, the grief of destruction!
Hear this: life is passing, and I'm yearning for you.
The wind will take us, and we will go...

These words speak to all of us who yearn for freedom in our own "small nights."

Today Forugh's words feel more vital than ever. We see her spirit living on in brave souls like Narges Mohammadi, who writes truth from behind prison walls. We see it in Nasrin Sotoudeh, defending human rights against all odds. We see it in Masih Alinejad, giving voice to the voiceless. Like Forugh before them, these women understand the price of speaking truth to power.

I'd love to hear your thoughts—share them in the comments below.

With strength and solidarity,

S.A. Sterling