Should I run, or should I surrender to the armed men?
I had no time to ponder the impact that question would have on the rest of my life. My adrenaline kicked in and I made the split-second decision to bolt.
I was sprinting through the streets of Tehran in a miniskirt and high heels, which in Iran in 1998 – and remains the case today – was a criminal act. It would be the equivalent of running through Times Square in the United States screaming, "I have a bomb."
Despite the danger, it was so liberating. At that moment I felt invincible …
"Stop. Or I will shoot!"
It was too late – the armed men had caught up with me and my friends.
I'll never forget that night – or what followed over the next five days, because it changed my life forever. At 16 years old, I was jailed and received 40 lashes of the whip for the "crime" of wearing a miniskirt in the privacy of a home while attending a coed party.
I was born in the United States but grew up in Iran after the 1979 Revolution, where strict regulations were imposed on women's dress code. By law, women had to cover everything but their face and hands.
Before the revolution, Iran was establishing itself as a modern nation. Women could wear what they desired, alcohol was legal and coed parties were the norm. However, on April 1, 1979 when the Shah was overthrown, Ayatollah Khomeini won the popular vote and Iran became an Islamic republic and with that came many changes, especially for women. The Ayatollah became Iran's supreme leader, who single-handedly changed the future of many generations to come. Especially my generation. Alcohol was banned, coed parties were forbidden, listening to Western music became illegal and extreme regulations were imposed on women's dress code.
Most Iranians I know, like everyone else in the world, love to dance, listen to music and socialise. Iranian women in particular are very fashionable and their sense of style had inspired trends around the globe. The young love to party, dress fashionably and live freely. So, after the ban of alcohol and coed parties, a generation of secret rock stars was born, but hidden behind closed doors.
People started building elaborate bars and dance floors in their homes for private parties. The protocol was for the girls to arrive covered, as though they were going out in public, and then take off their hijabs once the party started. These parties often offered a variety of alcohol, music and the latest Western trends.
If people were caught by Iranian officials breaking these laws, they could be subjected to harsh punishments, such as jail time, lashings and hefty charges. The Islamic republic shaped a generation that experienced a substantial almost-overnight change from modernisation to limited liberty.
It resulted in a culture clash between the youth and the government.
Growing up in that milieu was very confusing to me. I couldn't separate our traditional values from the newly created laws. I was exposed to TV shows like Beverly Hills 90210 and Baywatch on illegal satellite and wanted to follow the same trends as those kids. I would see people drinking alcohol in the privacy of a home, listening to Western music, and dancing, but I wasn't allowed to show my individuality through fashion in public or at school.
At school I felt just like every other girl, in a uniform that covered everything except for the face and hands. Every female student wore the same colour uniform, which consisted of pants, a manteau and scarf. Regardless of what the law was, at that age blending in with everyone wasn't appealing to me, nor to many of my friends. I longed to show who I was through how I chose to look. So although we knew we weren't allowed to take off our hijab in the presence of men, and we weren't allowed to party, we put a lot of effort into looking good and fashionable behind closed doors.
But in spite of all that effort to look good in secret, I still experienced the harsh punishment first hand. On my 16th birthday, I was arrested and taken to jail for five days with about 30 of my friends. The girls were given 40 lashes and the guys 50.
After I graduated from high school, my family decided it was time for me to leave Iran for the better opportunities offered in the United States. When I arrived there, I was amazed by the freedom American women had to wear whatever they wanted, but also disappointed by how much they took this freedom for granted. Most people wore flip-flops, shorts and big T-shirts.
I experienced the real meaning of freedom of choice. When I woke up in the morning I realised I didn't have to think about rules, restrictions, judgments, or punishment. I wasn't forced to pretend to be more religious than I was, and I could finally use my clothes to create an individuality for myself. I saw a future where I would be valued more for who I was, whether I chose to cover myself or wear a miniskirt.
Freedom is not about the amount of clothing you put on or take off, but about having the choice to do so. I saw women who wore hijabs, covered from head to toe, walking on the same beaches as women frolicking in their European-cut bikinis. Their freedom of choice empowered me. I found a new respect for women who covered by choice. I also respected those who wore bikinis.
I needed to find a way to celebrate that peaceful coexistence. I dreamed of starting a fashion line that would empower women to follow their dreams and to wear whatever they wanted without fear of judgment. I wanted to create something positive out of my past.
Making my way in the cutthroat world of fashion was not a smooth journey. Over the next decade I had two failed fashion businesses before I found my way to success with my own swimwear label. And when I was made the official swimwear sponsor for the Miss Universe Pageant in 2010, I finally felt I had truly arrived with my mission of "Fashion is Freedom". The Miss Universe pageant showcased some of the most beautiful women in the world, but Iranian women had been banned from participating, so it was a great honour for me to represent my country by having contestants wear my swimwear.
As honoured as I was, I soon realised that there was very little that was empowering or positive about some of the people involved in promoting the pageant. However, the inspiring women restored my faith. As a sponsor I gave a speech about my "Fashion is Freedom" mission and it was wonderful to hear what some contestants took away from that. Miss Australia, Jesinta Campbell, told the audience: "One of the greatest things we have is the freedom of choice. And tonight, we wore our swimsuits, which were designed by Tala, who says, 'fashion is freedom'. I don't think the government should have any say in what we wear because we can all make our own personal choices."
We are all making choices all the time, even when we choose not to choose we have still made a choice.
It is our choices that determine our experiences. We have been given the power to create our experiences through our choices, but if outside forces are responsible for our choices we give away all the power we have. And that is why it's important for all women to have the freedom of choice.
Most people don't need to think twice about what they wear every day, but in some parts of the world this simple freedom is taken away from many by law. We are all different and we celebrate our difference with our choices. You can tell a lot by the way someone dresses – their personality, their mood. It's like speaking without speaking. When these simple freedoms are taken away from women, it takes away their independence and power and they are only defined by the law of that country and not themselves. •
Tala Raassi's memoir, Fashion Is Freedom (Affirm Press, $30), is available now.
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