Translator: Bob Prottas Reviewer: Leonardo Silva
What are the first images that come to your mind when I say:
"Iranian women"?
Or perhaps: "Iranian women playing sports"?
Most people that I have asked this of
say that they envision women wearing all black from head to toe,
riding camels throughout the desert.
And the idea of women playing sports --
it's something like competitive goat milking.
I consider myself as East meets West.
As I have Iranian a roots, but was born in America.
When I was 5 years old, and living in Oklahoma -
to which ironically I get questioned a lot about, while in Iran,
whether I own a gun,
or if I ride a horse to school -
my father insisted that all his children play a sport,
and he was adamant that I play football,
because it was the only sport that could drain my never-ending energy.
I'll never forget the first time that I kicked my football.
It really was instant gratification.
While most girls were playing with their Barbies,
my football was my Barbie.
And while most girls were playing dress-up,
I was that kid running throughout the neighborhood,
gathering the kids so we could play a game.
During my matches, I had 2 coaches.
One, my official designated coach that I could never hear,
because the other, unofficial coach, my father,
was always yelling on the sideline:
(Farsi)
I did not speak Farsi growing up,
but I surely did understand it.
For me football was freedom.
I love the way it made me feel,
and the excitement running through my veins.
As I was getting older, my vision and my goal were getting bigger.
One day I wanted to play for the Women's National Team.
In the summer of 2005, my father surprised me and my sisters
that we would be traveling to Iran for the first time,
to see my grandparents,
and also to learn about our rich culture and traditions.
I was thrilled, I was excited,
but I was frightened because I thought that I could not train
for football or soccer, as they call it in America, when I was in Iran.
I had no idea if that sport existed outside of America.
And also I had no time
to say goodbye to my friends, my school, or my team.
So we traveled to Iran,
and once I settled in, I started to look for football.
Because for me it is my universal language,
and I thought that I could find it anywhere,
even if it was across the Atlantic.
My first encounter with women's sports
was when I was introduced to go to a woman's gym.
I already had pre-misconceptions that it was going to be a rundown building,
rusted metal dumbbells, and not many women who are active.
But when I opened this door to that gym, and I stepped in,
I was in for the shock of a lifetime.
Pretty much you could say I was slapped by reality.
The women in there were from corner to corner.
There wasn't a single space for me to participate.
The fact that they were there exercising and training
was a significant moment for me because now I realize
where I had inherited my athletic spirit from.
Not long after, I started looking harder for a place to train.
I later found out that football did not exist in Iran,
but a game called "futsal" did.
So imagine football, but played indoors.
Instead of your usual 11 teammates, you have 5,
and you can't be as aggressive, and I loved to tackle.
So play futsal I did, I had no other option.
One day I remember that I unleashed the football spirit inside of me,
and I started tackling the girls, and their like:
(Farsi), which means: "Calm down."
But luckily, my temper became my miracle.
That day, in 2005,
a scout for the women's national football team was there,
and selected me to be a part of the first team.
Again I was excited, thrilled, but I had a decision to make,
whether to go back to America and play University ball,
or stay in the country where I did not speak the language,
and where I didn't grow up,
but it was going to be the chance of a lifetime to make history,
and pave a path for other young girls.
As you can see, I chose the latter.
After a month and a half of training with the Women's National Team,
we were already making headlines.
"Here come the Iranian football ninjas."
(Laughter)
For our first tournament that was set to be in Jordan,
the Football Federation of Iran sent in a few men to "support us".
But you could see from their expression
that they were very insecure about our abilities,
and they would ask: "Can you even kick a ball?"
(Laughter)
We would just put our heads down, and nod:
"Yes, we can kick a ball."
So we knew that this was an uphill battle,
where we had to gain respect with each goal.
Our first game, we ended up scoring 12.
After our initial walking through football,
we decided that we wanted more.
We wanted to prove to the world
that even though we dress slightly differently, we can also play.
So in 2011, the Iranian women's national team
advanced to the second round of Olympic qualifications.
If you were watching the 2012 Olympics,
did you happen to see the Iranian women play?
No?
So, I'll tell you the story.
While we were in the locker room, singing our motivational songs,
giving each other speeches that we fought so hard to come here,
5 minutes before we were about to walk onto the field to make history,
the FIFA official walked in with her head down.
"What's going on?", we asked her.
"I'm sorry girls, you are forced to forfeit."
So, we were disqualified
because we would not take off our hijab,
as FIFA had just made it a new rule and regulation
that women cannot wear the hijab during official matches.
Our dreams were destroyed, vanished into thin air.
I know for a fact that several of my teammates, they gave up so much.
For example, watching their children grow, because we practically lived in the camps,
and most of us, including myself, had daily arguments with our professors,
because we were absent,
and they also threatened us that we would fail,
and a lot of us quit their jobs so they could support their families.
When we came back to Tehran, we came back empty-handed.
But we did not lose our determination to pursue this.
With the help of the international Community, and also the prince of Jordan,
we formed a campaign called "Let us play."
Because it just wasn't us that were disqualified.
Several individual women who were wearing the hijab were also disqualified.
When we came back to Tehran,
we knew that we had to fight,
and fight we did.
Two years later, the ban was lifted.
So I hope this was a lesson for most:
Never say "no" to a woman, and that being an Iranian woman.
(Applause)
As many organizations that use football or sport
as a hook for social change can testify,
sport can bridge the gap between religion and politics,
and it is used as a natural tool for social integration,
so women with different religious and cultural backgrounds
have a safe platform to express themselves.
I'm honored now to be the first woman, an Iranian woman,
to have the FIFA "A" License for coaching.
Now I know when we enter the Olympics we won't be disqualified.
And now as a coach, there's a lot more responsibilities to handle
especially when it comes to the personal issues that my players have to have.
For example, my forward, my number one player,
her father died, and now her mother is suffering from cancer.
Initially, she wasn't able to come to training,
but all her teammates were calling her continuously:
"Please come back, we need you."
It took her some time, but she did end up coming back.
But she came back a lot stronger.
She knows that her mother might not survive for another couple months,
but she has a goal, and an aim in her life,
and that is to be a role model for her country.
Now we're 15 years into the 21st century,
and I hope to be able to push the barriers of international discrimination
while following the laws of my country, because I love it.
With the help of other women
who have initiated change in their respective sport,
we want to prove to the world
that we're just as talented,
and we can compete at an international level.
I imagine a world,
where young girls do not have to ask:
"Why can I not follow my dream?"
You should be able to open up your country's potential
through any path and direction.
I chose football, because it's what I know.
With so many exciting paths, and directions out there,
which one are you going to choose?
Thank you.
(Applause)