The Issue of Women in Early Modern Iran

During the rise of constitutionalism in Iran, women’s issues and education took center stage in many essays and discussions. Nisāyyāt (women’s issues) became the central theme in the works of many constitutionalist poets. Almost all these poets composed numerous poems about women and women’s rights and praised women’s values. Poets such as Muhammad Taqī Bahār, Īraj Mīrzā, Sayyid Ashraf (Nasīm-i Shumāl), ꜥĀrif Qazvīnī, Mīrzādah ꜥIshqī, Abu al-Qāsim Lāhūtī, and later, Parvīn Iꜥtisāmī and Shahriyār wrote the best poems on these themes.

Nisāyyāt starts by addressing the topics of “education” and “school,” gradually encompassing other subjects such as “hijab,” “respecting mothers,” and “praising women.” Not all poets of this era tackle these themes with equal emphasis. It could be argued that the most revolutionary issue among them might have been the removal of the hijab, which went against thousands of years of tradition and rituals. It is important to note that there is no direct link between Islam and the hijab. Even in ancient Iran, women wore something similar to a chador or cloak. There is no historical evidence of the hijab being worn in pre-Islamic Arabia or during the time of the Prophet. However, denying established rituals and traditions that have been in place for centuries was undoubtedly difficult. In this theme, we can find everything from the harshest touches of sarcasm of Īraj Mīrzā, such as:

بر سردر کاروانسرایی / تصویر زنی به گچ کشیدند
On the archway of a caravanserai,
They drew the image of a woman in plaster,¹Īraj Mīrzā, Majmūꜥah-ʾi ashꜥār-i Īraj Mīrzā [Collected poems of Īraj Mīrzā], ed. Muhammad Jaꜥfar Mahjūb (3rd repr. ed., Tehran: Gulshan, 1353/1974), 177–78.

 to the innocent sobs of Parvīn, as in:

زن در ایران پیش از این گویی که ایرانی نبود
Women in Iran, it seems, were once strangers in their own land,²Parvīn Iꜥtisāmī, Dī‎vānDīvān-i ashꜥār-i Parvīn Iꜥtisāmī [Collected poems of Parvīn Iꜥtisāmī], ed. Hasan Ahmadī Gīvī (6th repr. ed., Tehran: Qatrah, 1381/2002), 126–27.

or the allusion of Bahār,

بهار پرده مویین حجاب عفت نیست/ هزار نکته باریک­تر ز مو اینجاست
Bahār, a thin veil, is not a cover of chastity;
there are thousands of subtleties finer than this hair here.³Muhammad Taqī Bahār, Dī‎vān-i ashꜥār-i shādʹravān Muhammad Taqī Bahār Malik al-Shuꜥarā [Collected poems of Muhammad Taqī Bahār, Poet Laureate] (Tehran: Amīr Kabīr, 1336/1957), 2:361–62.

Additionally, there is satirical poetry by Īrāj Mīrzā in “ꜥĀrifʹnāmah” and the responses of some second- and third-rate poets, such as Nādirī, to him.⁴The reference is to Amīr al-Shuꜥarā Nādirī, who wrote a poem criticizing Īrāj Mīrzā. Īraj Mīrzā responded with his poem, “Javāb bih khurdigar” [Reply to the critic]. See Īraj Mīrzā, Majmūꜥah-ʾi ashꜥār, 150 and 271. Īraj Mīrzā represents the sharpest and most confrontational poetic challenge to long-standing social and moral conventions. Moving from his satire to the gentler, reform-oriented voices of Parvīn, Bahār, and Gīlānī reveals how poets addressed women’s education and veiling through markedly different strategies. This contrast underscores that literary dissent was not uniform but adapted to different audiences and aims.

From the simple yet delightful poems of Sayyid Ashraf Gīlānī, such as:

ای دختر من درس بخوان فصل بهار است
بیکار به خانه منشین موقع کار است
یک چادری از عفت و ناموس به سر کن
وانگاه برو مدرسه تحصیل هنر کن
خود را ز کمالات و هنر نور بصر کن
چون دختر بی علم به نزد همه خوار است
ای دختر من درس بخوان فصل بهار است

O my daughter, study well; ‘tis the season of spring
Do not sit idle at home; ‘tis the time for work.
Cover yourself with the veil of honor and modesty,
Then, go to school and pursue the arts.
Enlighten your soul with knowledge and skills,
For a girl without learning is looked down upon by all.
O my daughter, study well; ‘tis the season of spring.⁵Sayyid Ashraf al-Dīn Gīlānī, Kulliyāt-i Sayyid Ashraf al-Dīn Gīlānī, “Nasīm-i shimāl” [Collected works of Sayyid Ashraf al-Dīn Gīlānī, “The northern breeze”)], ed. Ahmad Idārīʹchī Gīlānī (Tehran: Nigāh, 1375/1996), 217–19.

In this poem, Gīlānī skillfully uses “chador” to encourage [or pave the way for] girls to go to school, in contrast to a harsh critique of “chador” by Īraj when he says:

You are the mirror reflecting the beauty of the almighty,
Why, like a turnip, do you hide in a sack?⁶Īraj Mīrzā, Majmūꜥah-ʾi ashꜥār, 83.

تو مرآت جمال ذوالجلالی  
چرا مانند شلغم در جولی

Both of these approaches were influential in enhancing the sociological position of women. In this sense, Constitutionalism brought a new perspective to Persian poetry, which had previously often featured stories and poems that did not favour femininity. This change was exemplified by poets like Gīlānī, who had a broad audience and highlighted Islam’s respectful attitude towards women.

دختران را مصطفی آزاد کرد    جمله زنهای عرب را شاد کرد
ای زنان و دختران شادی کنید    همچو سرو و سوسن آزادی کنید
هست پیغمبر طرفدار شما       در جزا زهرا بُود یار شما

The prophet set girls free,
Bringing joy to all the women of Arabia.
Oh women and girls, be happy and celebrate,
Embrace your freedom like the lily and the cypress.
The prophet is your supporter and guide,
And in the afterlife, Zahrā will be by your side.⁷Gīlānī, Kulliyāt, 368–69.

This comparison highlights the diversity of poetic strategies through which early modern Persian poets addressed women’s visibility, education, and the sensitive issue of hijab.

Parvīn’s Poetry

Due to the sympathetic and intimate nature of this poem, which draws on religious themes, and the sarcastic voices of poets like Īraj, as well as other intellectuals and elites, Iranian women flourished. They illuminated their hidden talents, giving rise to many great artists, poets, writers, scientists, and researchers.

In twentieth-century Iran, the atmosphere of lyric Persian poetry underwent a fundamental transformation in the second half of the century. Women, rarely recognized in lyric poems, began to be portrayed as the humanized and worldly beloved. This led to women being able to compose individual ghazals, with Furūgh’s “Another Birth” being one of the best representations of this transformation.

We are just a few years away from the centenary of Parvīn’s birth, and it has been over half a century since her passing.⁸This chapter of the author’s was published years ago. With the least time and opportunity to compose poetry, she achieved unparalleled success in the history of Persian literature. When considering this fact, none of the great poets of the twentieth century, and even previous centuries, such as those after Hāfiz, can be compared to her.⁹Qarn-i Bistum [Twentieth century] 8, no. 2 (Monday, Rajab 2, 1341/ February 18, 1913): 1, edited by Mīrzādah ꜥIshqī, a leading poet of the era, includes a note about the twelfth issue of Iꜥtisām al-Mulk’s Bahār. It states, “The magazine Bahār is so well known that it needs no commendation… We strongly recommend that the readers of Qarn-i Bistum read it, especially Parvīn’s literature, which is admirable in every way.” At that time, Parvīn was sixteen years old.

Since Parvīn’s first poems were published in Bahār journal, which her father, ꜥItisām al-Mulk Āshtiyānī (1254/1875–1316/1937), used to manage, her artistic character and poetry were gaining daily recognition. In the history of Persian poetry, only great poets such as Firdawsī, Rūmī, Khayyām, Hāfiz, Saꜥdī, and Nizāmī achieved such triumphs. By gaining such popularity, one can say that a miracle happened.

I want to highlight another remarkable aspect of her work in this article. Despite promoting Parvīn’s poetry for the past forty years, new literary theories that have captivated our literary and academic circles have primarily overlooked her. Let us briefly examine the [provincial/narrow-minded] critiques or translated theories. We will see that most of them openly try to undermine her poetry and poetic character, while Parvīn, through her magical art, successfully nullified their efforts.¹⁰Some even refused to believe that a woman authored Parvīn’s poetry collection. See Majmūꜥah-ʾi maqālāt va qittaꜥāt-i ashꜥār kih bi-munāsibat-i darʹguz̲asht va avvalīn sāl-i vafāt-i khānum-i Parvīn Iꜥtisāmī [Collected articles and poems on the occasion of the passing and first anniversary of Ms. Parvīn Iꜥtisāmī] (Tehran: Abū al-Fath Iʿtisāmī, 2035 Pahlavi/1977), 49–62.

According to these approaches, poetry is evaluated primarily through metonymy and metaphor, or more broadly through the use of figurative imagery. Within this framework, the boundary between poetry and non-poetry is defined by the presence or absence of pictorial or metaphorical expression. As a result, even accidental or arbitrary groupings of words—such as “surge,” “storm,” “whirlpool,” salāt, qiblah, “pilgrim,” and “dependence”, might be classified as poetry, while more formally structured and narratively coherent verses, such as the following example, are excluded:

مادر موسی چو موسی را به نیل
درفکند از گفته رب جلیل
خود ز ساحل کرد با حسرت نگاه
گفت: کای فرزند خرد بی گناه
گر فراموشت کند لطف خدای
چون رهی زین کشتی بی ناخدای

When Moses’ mother cast him to the Nile
Obeying the command of the Lord so high,
She stood on the shore, her gaze full of woe,
And sighed for her innocent child below:
If God’s mercy forgets my tender son,
How shall he steer this boat alone with no guide?¹¹Iꜥtisāmī, Dīvān-i ashꜥār, 294–96.

The implication of this view is that randomness can qualify as poetic, whereas intentional composition may disqualify a text from being recognized as poetry. In this logic, a verse retelling an extraordinary story is dismissed as non-poetic precisely because the poet approached it with a preconceived theme; once intentionality enters the process, poetry, according to these theories, is said to disappear. When, according to these thoughts, Firdawsī, Nizāmī, and Saꜥdī cannot be recognized as poets, how can one expect that Parvīn, an less known young woman, would have been called a poet by the new critics? If unqualified translations of Lorca’s poetry into Persian are considered poetry, how can we call Firdawsī a poet, or how can Saꜥdī’s Bustān be named poetry? Therefore, according to this argument, we must accept that Saꜥdī, Nizāmī, Firdawsī, and Nāsir Khusraw are not poets. But those who randomly combine words are great poets!

One captivated by such theories would argue that Parvīn’s works cannot be classified as poetry. These theories have significantly diminished the creative essence of poetry in our time. They have profoundly influenced our literary circles and publications, casting a shadow over Iran’s modern culture. Nevertheless, despite the intense criticism, Parvīn‎’s poetry has withstood the test of time in contemporary Persian literature. The vast number of Parvīn‎’s poetry admirers have proven the victory of this woman poet over all critical views of her opponents, which denies all those theories. This is the miracle of Parvīn‎.

To the best of my knowledge, the poet laureate Bahār wrote the first and still the best review of Parvīn‎’s poetry, which is a significant wonder in Persian literary history.¹²Iꜥtisāmī, Dīvān-i ashꜥār, 41–47. Over sixty years after the first edition of Parvīn‎’s poetry, more than 100 articles and books have probably been published about her works. However, none can match the quality of Bahār’s introduction to her divan. This critique, written by one of the most outstanding litterateurs of Persian literature, is a fair literary assessment that comprehensively examines the artistic aspects of this great poet. When Bahar wrote this introduction, he was of such a literary standing that, even if he exaggerated about Parvīn‎, his high literary status would not be diminished. When Bahār wrote this introduction, he considered himself the greatest poet of Persian literature after Saꜥdī and Hāfiz. Many scholars still agree with this perspective. With his extensive knowledge of poetry, Islamic and ancient history, Bahār was not hesitant to thoroughly appraise Parvīn‎’s entire craft.

Parvīn‎ belongs to a category of Persian poets, including Firdawsī, Nāsir Khusraw, Saꜥdī, and Nizāmī, who exalted wisdom, morality, and dignity as the cornerstone of their poetry. Whenever Iranian culture declines, it becomes detached from this category. When it starts to rebuild and grow, it seeks solace in this lineage of Persian literature. The father of this family is Firdawsī, and the others can be Nāsir Khusraw, Nizāmī, Saꜥdī, Ibn Nadīm, Bahār, and Parvīn‎, the daughter of this great family.

This poetic family is both a rival and a relative of another great family, which includes Sanāʾī, ꜥAttār, and Rūmī. Iran’s esteemed culture has flourished under the influence of these families’ rivalry. Throughout history, the health and wellness of our society can be assessed by the distance and proximity of these poetic families. When our creativity and art move away from one or both of these families, it becomes evident that our society is experiencing psychological distress (the Timurid, Safavid and Qajari eras can be good examples of this). In the era of constitutionalism, being close to these families, especially the first one, can be seen as a positive sign for our society, while drifting away from these artistic families in our time, especially the first one, is a clear indication of declining poetic creativity in our time. We are trapped in this social illness due to blindly imitating Western theories. Our cultural creativity will deteriorate daily unless we can find philosophical solutions to this fatal disease.

Among the many complex elements that comprise literary masterpieces, what should we consider being mesmerized by abstract metaphors other than as an ailment?

A few years ago, a daily newspaper posed the question of whether Furūgh was more of a poet than Parvīn, or vice versa. In response, many poorly informed journalists went so far as to claim that Parvīn could not even be considered a poet. At the same time, some members of the literary establishment—either unfamiliar with Furūgh’s poetry or unable to fully engage with it—echoed the dominant intellectual climate of the moment and insisted that Parvīn could not be compared to Furūgh, arguing that Parvīn had no relevance wherever Furūgh’s poetry was discussed. In a society oscillating between the uncritical embrace of modernism on one day and the pursuit of socialist realism on the next, the question remains: how can Parvīn’s poetry and her literary position be evaluated with any measure of fairness?

Despite all of these, Parvīn‎’s poetry is increasingly gaining recognition and establishing itself in Iran’s cultural landscape due to its embodiment of wisdom, freedom, and human dignity amidst the clamor of journalists and unassimilated literary theories. Literature deviating from these three crucial themes cannot remain relevant even if adorned with glamorous metaphors. We should not overlook the multitude of poets from the Safavid era who utilized numerous abstract, purposeless, and ambiguous metaphors, rendering their collections outdated.

The sudden appearance of Parvīn‎ Iꜥtisāmī following the constitutional movement was a significant literary event. Parvīn‎’s notable influence on numerous poets, including those older than her, is readily apparent. As his dīvān indicates, even an innovative poet like Nīmā, the forerunner of modern Persian poetry and some years older than Parvīn‎, followed Parvīn‎’s style many years after publishing “Afsānah” (Myth) and tried to create poems like her work. Among Nīmā’s poetry, the works composed during 1927–1937/1306–1316, such as “Khurūs-i Sādah” (the simple rooster), “Kirm-i abrisham” (silkworm), “Asbʹdavānī” (horse race), “Kachapī,” “Khurūs va būqalamūn” (the rooster and the turkey), “Parandah-ʾi munzavī” (the lonely bird), and “Dūd” (smoke) were influenced by Parvīn‎’s poetry, and almost all critics have been ignorant of this fact.¹³Nīmā Yūshīj, Majmūꜥah-ʾi kāmil-i ashꜥār-i Nīmā Yūshīj [Complete poetry of Nīmā Yūshīj], compiled, transcribed, and edited by Sīrūs Tāhbāz (3rd repr. ed., Tehran: Nigāh, 1994/1373), 146, 147, 148, 153, 156, 167.

After her sudden death, many poets in the history of Persian literature paid attention to her style when composing their poems. However, no one, including Nīmā, could create a piece of poetry in a style that is close to even her second-rate work.

Parvīn‎’s poetry is the poetry of wisdom and emotion, and it does not need any abstract metaphors and strange similes. This is the poem Parvīn‎ composed for her graduation party, which I first read in my teenage years and by which I was mesmerized. The poem begins with the following verses:

ای نهال آرزو خوش زی که بار آورده ای
غنچه بی باد صبا گل بی بهار آورده ای
باغبان تو را امسال سالی خرم است
زین همایون میوه کز هر شاخسار آورده­ای

O sapling of desire, live well, for you have borne fruit,
A bud without the breeze of dawn, a bloom without the spring
This year is joyous for the gardeners of your care,
For the auspicious fruit that from each branch you bring.¹⁴Iꜥtisāmī, Dīvān-i ashꜥār, 2017–18.

I do not know what is hidden in this poem, which still captivates me after almost half a century. One understanding of metaphors, meters, and rhymes alone does not fully capture the true essence of masterpieces. When the spirit of society, across generations, has recognized a poet’s talent, nitpicking critiques cannot diminish the literary status of a poet like Parvīn‎.