Co-Authored Interview
Carlos: Ellen, we’ve taken creative writing classes together for a number of years, so it’s nice to discuss your fascinating new book, Exit Prohibited (Inlandia Institute, 2023), about your family’s escape from revolutionary Iran.
Ellen: Yes, Carlos. I love talking about memoir with another memoir writer.
Carlos: So, let’s start from the beginning. How did you become part of Iran?
Ellen: Thanks for putting it that way, Carlos. I did become part of Iran, and Iran became part of me. My husband, Ali, is Iranian. We met when we were students at the University of California, Davis. When I emigrated to Iran in 1971, my goal was to make it my home. It was my first time outside of the United States, so I immersed myself in the culture, learned Persian, taught English at two universities, got a master’s degree, worked at a museum, learned to cook Iranian food, and made lifelong friends. Both of our daughters were born in Iran. I assumed that Ali and I would grow old there. We would have, had it not been for the Islamic Republic.
Carlos: Then the 1979 Iranian Revolution occurred. What made your family decide to leave?
Ellen: In 1980, as we watched the gradual erosion of personal freedoms, we decided that we would leave if the government mandated hijabs or chadors for women. When that happened, we contacted the American Interests section of the Swiss Embassy, got our paperwork together, and planned to leave.
Carlos: That led to your startling moment at the airport, right?
Ellen: Yes. At the airport, my husband was inexplicably prevented from leaving. Concerned for our safety, Ali immediately insisted that the children and I go on without him while he stayed to figure out what he was being accused of, who had accused him, and when, if ever, he would be allowed to rejoin us.
Carlos: I can hardly imagine how traumatic that must have been.
Ellen: It was the most traumatic moment of our lives. What’s more, it happened on our older daughter’s birthday, so we commemorated it every year, along with presents, cake, and candles. But after a few years we decided it was unfair to her to have this story be even a small part of her celebration.
Carlos: I can certainly understand that.
Ellen: But the story still needed telling. Making sense of our family’s experience became the basic impetus for my memoir. But I also wanted to give Westerners a picture of Iran and Iranians that was more complex and nuanced than what they might find in the media.
Carlos: Let’s start with one nuance, the distinction between the words Iranian and Persian.
Ellen: They are often used interchangeably, but Persian is actually the English word for the national language, Farsi. It’s also used to identify people of Persian ancestry, who make up 61 percent of Iran, unlike Iranians of other ancestries such as Armenian, Kurdish, or Turkish. Since the Revolution and the 1979 hostage crisis, some Iranians in the United States refer to themselves as Persian to dissociate themselves from the Islamic Republic of Iran.
Carlos: Could you share some of your personal challenges in writing about a culture other than your own?
Ellen: Because I wanted to write for both Iranians and Westerners, I had to be really accurate in my descriptions so that Westerners would get a clear picture of the culture and Iranian readers would recognize their own country. For transliterating and translating Persian words, I was fortunate to have a wonderful technical editor, Dr. Bahram Grami, an Iranian scholar who is one of the editors of the Encyclopedia Iranica.
Carlos: Could you give one example of a translation challenge?
Ellen: Sure. Take the word gharbzadegi, which was the title of a 1962 polemic by Iranian novelist and social critic Jalal Al-e Ahmad, who decried the negative influence of the West on Iranian society. Gharbzadegi has been translated various ways: West-struckness, Westomania, Westitis, or West-toxification. It is used as a label for Iranians who have forsaken their traditions and values for those of the industrialized West. What makes the word particularly tricky is that it is so subjective: one person’s accusation of West-toxification is another person’s idea of progress.
Carlos: Ellen, we once participated together on a panel discussion about cultural appropriation. Was that a concern for you?
Ellen: When I began writing this book fifteen years ago, I didn’t feel that I was overstepping any boundaries since this was my own personal, unique story. But I instinctively knew I had to approach an account of Iran with humility, to acknowledge what I didn’t know. I tried to put everything into cultural context, avoid cultural stereotypes, and focus on people as individuals. Likewise, it’s important for immigrants to the United States to write about their own stories to illuminate the human condition and the concepts of otherness and belonging.
Carlos: So, did you write your story from the perspective of an outsider?
Ellen: That’s complicated, Carlos. I was certainly a cultural outsider when I arrived in Iran in 1971. But when I left in 1980, I felt more like an insider. I had embraced living in Iran, even though I sometimes made cultural faux pas. When I left, I felt like a displaced Iranian. Yet I was still viewed as an outsider. I guess that’s a universal phenomenon. Many immigrants to the United States are perceived that way, no matter how hard they try to fit in. Just when you think you’ve transcended that divide, someone reminds you of your otherness.
Carlos: Outside of your family, how have Iranians reacted to your treatment of their nation and culture?
Ellen: The response from Iranians readers has been overwhelmingly positive. Not one of them has questioned my right to tell my story. Many have said that they felt they were traveling along with me on that journey, especially regarding our experiences with the bureaucracy. Most of all, they are happy to be noticed. Years before the book came out, my husband’s niece gave me the greatest compliment. We were talking about my time in Iran and she said, “You really understood us. You got us.” I wanted Iranian readers of this book to feel the same way.
Carlos: What role did your husband, Ali, play in turning your story into a book?
Ellen: Exit Prohibited is Ali’s story as well as mine. Much of the book focuses on his struggles with university politics and the Kafkaesque government bureaucracy. We’ve been married for 53 years. He has been my guide to Iran, past and present, and I was fortunate to have the opportunity to know another culture so intimately, even though our last year in Iran was extremely harrowing. I was incredibly lucky that he encouraged me to write the book. He didn’t try to censor anything. And he spent many long hours answering my questions about that painful, dangerous last year and his efforts to get out of Iran to rejoin us.
Carlos: Do you have any final wisdom you’d like to share with others who want to write about cultures that aren’t their own?
Ellen: Begin with humility. Be honest about what you don’t know. Acknowledge the collective wisdom of your adopted culture. In my case, that wasn’t hard. Iran is more than ten times older than the United States, with a glorious past rich in art, literature, and science. Don’t censor yourself. You are entitled to your own feelings about another culture, as long as you acknowledge that your feelings are filtered through your own cultural sensibilities.
Photo by Gülfer ERGİN on Unsplash
Ellen Estilai has spent much of her career collaborating with artists, writers, and agencies to strengthen communities through the arts. She has served as the executive director of the Riverside (California) Arts Council and the Arts Council for San Bernardino County.In addition to teaching language, literature, and writing at universities in Iran and California, she has published essays, short stories, and poetry, the memoir Exit Prohibited (Inlandia Institute, 2023), and the chapbook, The Museum of Missing Things (Jamii Publishing, 2023).
Glad to have read your article that appears to exhibit genuine care about culture and how political cultural shifts do have massive consequences on the lives of effected people and their families.
Thank you for the very enlightening conversation.