Taees Gheirati

PhD Candidate, Ethnomusicology
University of British Columbia

“I’m a singer! No one can stop me [from singing]! When the rain graces the riverbed and unleashes a flood, can anyone halt its relentless course?” (Khaseh Borna, interview, June 2023)

These are the words of Khaseh Borna, one of the most well-known female singers of Eastern Khorasan in Iran. According to the government’s Islamic conventions and regional patriarchy, women may not sing in public,[1] but her powerful analogy made me feel the full force of her determination to sing at all costs. She is now over sixty years old and has been a singer from a young age. No one, including her husband, nor anyone else from her community or the authorities, can tame her passion for singing. 

I always thought obtaining ethical clearance at my university’s ORS (Office of Research Services)—a necessary prerequisite to conducting ethnographic fieldwork—wouldn’t be too hard. As a researcher concerned with protecting my interlocutors, I provided the ORS comprehensive details about my work demonstrating that I am ensuring confidentiality and respecting my informants. In the field, I pay careful attention to the values, standards, and boundaries of the people I work with, and like a family member, I feel responsible to them. Yet, obtaining the ORS’s approval for my research became more challenging than I had originally assumed. 

My study focuses on female musicians of Eastern Khorasan in Iran. They express their feelings of love, loss, longing, and happiness through sung poetry. They sing/play deyreh[2] and dotar[3] at weddings, gatherings, and work, as well as singing lullabies to help their children sleep. However, throughout the history of the country, women have often lived a secluded life under patriarchal and religious conventions, confined to the privacy of their homes or exclusively female gatherings. 

During a preliminary trip to the field during summer 2023, I realized female musicians are actively present in the public music scene of the region, such as performing in festivals, concerts, music videos, and social media, as well as serving as music teachers. After our introductions, and an explanation of my research and plans to produce a documentary, my interlocutors’ faces lit up with excitement over the prospects of having their voices heard internationally. Despite all the social restrictions that these women face, both from the state and their own families, they recontacted me to express their enthusiasm in participating in my research, and without any pressure from me. 

After forging these initial connections, I returned to the University of British Columbia to undertake the necessary preparations for my fieldwork, including obtaining clearance from the Ethics Review Board. Yet my application was returned to me several times with demands for revision because the board insisted that my work was high-risk research. 

My university’s Research Information System categorizes human research along two axes: one axis assesses three levels of research risks (low-medium-high), and the other evaluates three levels of participant vulnerability (low-medium-high). I assessed my research as low risk because I believed it causes no physical or mental harm to my informants. Every step of my research would be conducted with the participants’ full understanding of the study’s objectives. Participants would be aware of its potential public distribution and I would collect their informed consent for any voice/video recording, without pressure. However, the ethics board considered my work as researching “individuals engaged in illegal activities,” despite the fact that it is not explicitly illegal for women to publicly sing in Iran. The board mandated the use of pseudonyms in my dissertation and the anonymization of my informants’ faces in any photographs or video footage, even with their explicit consent. 

As a female Iranian singer myself, having personally experienced suppression and witnessed women’s resilience in fighting the discriminatory rules of the Islamic Republic,[4] I felt that their decision was arbitrary, uninformed, and insensitive to the potential benefits of my work, such as amplifying the voices of women who have rarely had the chance to be heard or seen. I do understand what might have provoked their concerns about the risks such activities might pose, particularly during this time of heightened sensitivity and political unrest in Iran. However, my lifelong firsthand experience is far more nuanced than the ethics board, especially as I understand the regional differences, religious practices, and laws that impact women’s singing in the country. Faced with this clash, I had to settle my emotions and think rationally.

The key question is whether it is ethical to anonymize interlocutors against their will, especially when decisions are made with minimal or misguided familiarity with the situation.

In order to address the question so I could best respond to the ethics board, I researched the recent socio-political history and gender issues in Iran and consulted with an Iranian lawyer and prominent figures in the field of Iranian female musicianship. Here is some of what I learned:

During the past year and a half, news of Iran’s uprising trended on Twitter (now X) several times. The tragic death of Mahsa (Zhina) Amini in the custody of the morality police in Tehran during Fall 2022, due to an “improper hijab,” ignited the most widespread protests in the history of the Islamic regime. Zhina’s name became a token” (as written on her grave) for a women-led uprising where Generation Z, millennials, feminists, queer activists, and people with different religious and ethnic backgrounds stand united and determined to challenge and overcome the oppressive forces that have used the name of Islam to suppress their enthusiasm for life. 

Throughout its forty-five years of governance, the Islamic Republic’s “implementation of serious legal restrictions and discriminatory political practices” has led to the “alienation of people from both the religion and the state” (Haeri 2009, 125-6). Restrictions on women are more severe under its rule, and in general they are considered “second-class citizens.” Regardless of religion, women must wear the hijab in public. Female testimony is considered half as valuable as that of a man. A woman’s compensation in case of injury or death is also half when compared to that of a man. Women are required to obtain written permission from their father or husband to travel abroad, among other activities. “Such essentially controlling and antidemocratic state policies have sharpened women’s sense of injustice, made them aware of their political oppression and their legal subjugations, and exposed the state’s patriarchal double standards and hypocrisies” (ibid, 127). 

Many women have educated themselves about the structural and ideological gender injustice in the history of the country and have boldly challenged these policies. In addition, they have participated as members of parliament during more open political atmospheres during the presidencies of Rafsanjani (1989-1997) and Khatami (1997-2005), working collectively in nongovernmental women’s associations and institutions, publishing feminist magazines and websites, protesting against the government, and engaging in civil disobedience. They know that they must struggle to preserve their inalienable rights, and they continue to fight for them every day, despite facing suppression from the government, society, or their own families. 

In the Islamic regime, music has always been a contentious issue, particularly for female musicians and their solo singing in public. As Iranian ethnomusicologist Ameneh Youssefzadeh remarks, “Members of the government and religious establishment are conscious of and worried about the powers of music on the human mind” (2015, 657). During the early years after the 1979 revolution, musicians were treated very strictly, as some mujtahids[5] recognized music to be haram (forbidden). Musicians could be beaten, or their instruments could be broken. Based on his website, Ruhollah Khomeini—the leader of the 1979 revolution and the first supreme leader of the Islamic Republic—considers music to be a vocal sound that is pleasant and is coupled with joy and debauchery, thus haram (Khomeini 2018). “The real source of the dispute has often been the association of music with worldly pleasures such as wine, drinking, and sensual enjoyment” (Youssefzadeh 2015, 657).

Gradually, Khomeini loosened his beliefs and came to judge music by its aim and content, where it is performed and how it is sponsored, as well as generally based on customs and adult individuals. Thus, some music came to be understood as non-haram. Regarding females singing in public, he sees no obstacles if they sing in a group, with veiling and without acts of corruption such as debauchery. 

According to his website, Ali Khamenei, the second and current supreme leader of the Islamic Republic, focuses on the content of music: debaucherous music is haram; otherwise, it is halal (permissible). He leaves the determination of halal/haram music to individuals and customs as well. Regarding women singing in the presence of na-mahram,[6] Khamenei’s notions are quite interesting: he believes that the female voice is not haram as long as it is not coupled with acts of temptation and corruption, but it is very unlikely for a man to hear the voice of a female and not be seduced! He mentions that temptation is less likely when women sing in groups or along with men. He differentiates hearing the female voice through recording or movies from live performance and considers the former as halal (Khamenei 2024).

Other than controversial and ambiguous fatwas[7] of mujtahids, there is no regulation in the penal code of the Islamic regime and no explicit statement in the Qur’an about women performing music and singing in public. Musicians have used this ambiguity to negotiate opportunities in music productions, concerts, etc. Today, women are very active in the public music scene. Despite challenges, they can be seen performing on stages of concert halls, festivals, on social media such as Facebook, YouTube, and Instagram, underground settings, and teaching in universities, municipal art centers, and music institutes. They have found ways to expand their limited opportunities for singing in public through choral singing, vocalizing without lyrics—which is considered as an instrument—as backup singers for plays, movies and soundtracks, etc. Some have also organized female concerts for female audiences. Most importantly, they are named in each of these settings, and they are not punished for singing.

The series of uprisings against the regime’s corruption and mismanagement over the past four decades both root in and result in knowledge awakening. Professor of Sociology and International Affairs, Valentine Moghaddam, remarks: “Revolutions or domestic transitions (which sometimes occur in clusters) help to transform the gender regime in an egalitarian direction” (2023, 3). However, he also draws attention to the ways that the “capitalist world-system” delays the process of democratization in Iran: “economic, political, and military control at the level of the world-system often creates or exacerbates misguided national level economic decision-making or leads to the reinforcement of patriarchal, authoritarian rule.” In Iran, the bleak economy from the state’s corruption and mismanagement, worsened by punitive financial sanctions, has resulted in increasing economic inequality in family units, reducing women’s economic agency, hence reinforcing private patriarchy. If the nationwide Woman-Life-Freedom demonstrations have waned because of the violent suppression by the government and the ignorance of the world powers, constant micro-efforts from well-informed women are the only weapon they have to stretch their limited spaces at the domestic and national level. Being an active female singer in such an environment is an act of resilience. 

This image of Iranian women might be familiar for many non-Iranians informed through international media and scholarship. In order to better understand the situation of women in Iran, this knowledge is needed, but not enough. Considering “Iranian history as one land, a harmonious entity” (Hamidi 2024, 2), and Iranian women, a single nationwide identity is a generalization that results in ignoring the diverse experiences of different ethnic groups and their norms. The complex layers of Zhina Amini’s identity—her gender, ethnicity (Kurdish), and religion (Sunni)—raise questions such as whether she would be treated the same by the police and authorities if she was not a part of marginalized ethno-religious community (Hamidi 2024, 3).[8] And I add to this, whether she would be arrested for her improper hijab if she was walking in her hometown (Saqqez, Kurdistan, Iran) instead of Tehran, where she was traveling when arrested. 

Clothing and veiling styles are diverse among different ethnicities in Iran and the state is more controlling over the appearance and activities in larger cities like Tehran. This might be due to the fact that larger cities project the image of an Islamic state that the regime desires the world to see, or because larger cities require more stringent control to adhere to the desired conventions of the Islamic Republic. For example, it is common for men to walk in shorts in the northern and southern parts of Iran, but wearing the same outfit in large cities like Tehran, Tabriz, or Mashhad might cause repercussions. Similarly, Kurds, Baluchis, Khorasanis, etc. have their own ethnic clothing that might not be acceptable in Tehran. Despite years of social and political suppression, Iranians from all ethnicities connect to their heritage background to keep their culture alive.

While government officials call female singers of Tehran from time to time to sign a commitment to not sing in public again, female musicians of Eastern Khorasan have a very active presence in the public musical scene of the region. For example, Khaseh Borna, the informant I quoted at the beginning of the article, has starred and sung in several movies. The videos of her songs are available on YouTube,[9] and she sings on stage in private settings. Ala Alborz, another young vocalist, has been singing and playing since childhood while accompanied by her father, uncle, and other male musicians. She posts her mesmerizing voice on her public Instagram account, noting that she is unveiled in some of her posts, courageous like her other Generation Z counterparts.[10] Zeinab Khanoom teaches dotar and singing to young girls in schools of Torbat-e Jam. Many schools in Eastern Khorasan devote a portion of their budget for music classes—which is uncommon throughout Iran─and there are many music festivals and competitions in the main cities like Torbat-e Jam. Despite the strict regional religious and patriarchal rules, music, intertwined with practices of Sufism and mysticism, has a special place in the region. The holiness of music is one of those negotiable opportunities that can relax the strict state-imposed rules towards female musicians and singers. 

The women I met during my trip to Torbat-e Jam are incredibly brave, well-informed about their sociological situation, and have already paved their paths in music careers, even known publicly as singers. Through my research, I intend to contribute to their ongoing effort to be seen and heard, especially as women have been continually silenced and unnamed throughout history. I aspire to amplify their voices by writing about them, recording and preserving their songs, as well as producing a documentary showcasing their journey towards a career they passionately pursue and rightfully deserve. Recognition is among the few things researchers can provide in return for their informants’ cooperation. By anonymizing these women against their will, we would essentially maintain the existing situation without addressing the underlying issues of control and patriarchy. The Research Board’s cautious approach might keep things secure from the university’s perspective, but it comes at these women’s expense and it overlooks the opportunity to initiate real transformation, and support these women in their pursuit of change. I believe it is unethical for me to anonymize them, disregarding their agency and understanding of their own situation. It is unethical to deny them the choice of whether they wish to be seen or named. It is unethical to make that decision on their behalf. 

I think such decisions may be influenced by biased assumptions and standards, resulting in re-silencing women who are already fighting for their voices. Ethical judgments are more valid when trust is placed in the researchers and informants, as strictly adhering to Western institutional regulations may result in overlooking pertinent information.

I provided some of this information to the board in our first meeting, highlighting the explicit permission I have, as a female researcher, to be present with women who are singing, record their singing in the absence of males, and even distribute their voices without restriction. However, the board, deeming their singing as “illegal,” insisted on anonymization and the use of pseudonyms without giving the informants the opportunity to decide. After many back and forth discussions, we reached a potentially hopeful compromise: collecting testimonials from three or more prominent female Iranian academic (ethno)musicologists who support my points and believe that sharing my informants’ names, voices, and faces does not pose a high risk. Whether this will ultimately persuade them, I do not know, but it is the next step towards achieving the rights that my informants and I deserve.

Notes:

References

Haeri, Shahla. 2009. “Women, Religion, and Political Agency in Iran.” In Contemporary Iran: Economy, Society, Politics, edited by Ali Gheissari, 125-149. New York: Oxford University Press.

Hamidi, Yalda N. 2024. “Woman, Life, Freedom, and the Question of Multiculturalism in Iranian Studies.” International Journal of Middle East Studies 55(4): 744-748.

Khamenei, Seyyed Ali. “.غنا، آلات لهو، موسیقی و رقص” Accessed February 27, 2024.

https://farsi.khamenei.ir/news-content?id=27823.

Khomeini, Ruhollah. “نظرات امام خمینی در باب موسیقی.” Last Modified September 4, 2018. http://www.imam-khomeini.ir/fa/n144616/کنکاشی_در_نظرات_امام%20خمینی_درباب_موسیقی.

Moghadam, Valentine M. 2023. “Gender Regimes, Polities, and the World-System: Comparing Iran and Tunisia.” Women’s Studies International Forum 98 (102721): 1-9.

Youssefzadeh, Ameneh. 2015. “Veiled Voices: Music and Censorship in Post-Revolutionary Iran.” In The Oxford Handbook of Music Censorship, edited by Patricia Hall, 657–674. Oxford Handbooks.