Nora

Between two worlds
It was as if I was living two lives. One in which I was allowed to discover things and had a little freedom. And one in which everything had already been mapped out for me. Where I had no say. No voice.
I am in my early twenties. I have an Iranian background, grew up in Germany and eventually ended up in The Netherlands. We moved around a lot. Germany, The Netherlands, even Iran at one point. My mother was strict, very strict. And my stepfather too, actually. They held on to those traditional norms and values. Honour, obedience. That kind of thing.

The first time: ‘on holiday’ to Iran
For a while, there seemed to be some leeway. Until I turned sixteen, seventeen. I started working, meeting up with friends. I was outside a lot. Free. And that… they didn’t like that. They thought I was out of control. Then my parents said we were going on holiday to Turkey. But we arrived in Iran. Immediately at the airport, I was given a headscarf to wear. My phone was taken away. The seven of us were put in one room. And I wasn’t allowed to do anything. Nothing at all. Everything was decided for me. I stayed for a month and a half. It was just… yes, confinement. But with your family. A lot of mental pressure. Being sworn at. Suddenly, nothing was allowed anymore.

Immediately at the airport, I was given a headscarf to wear. My phone was taken away. The seven of us were put in one room. And I wasn’t allowed to do anything.

A new attempt
A year later, they said we were going on holiday to Sweden. But we drove towards Iran. Then I knew: I have to stop this. Now. Otherwise, I’ll never get out.
On the way, in Bulgaria, I seized my chance. During the entire trip, I wasn’t allowed to be alone. My mother even had to accompany me to the toilet. But at a shop… I seized my chance. I grabbed my passport and ran away as fast as I could. I ran into a neighbourhood, far away from my parents. Among all the buildings where they couldn’t reach me by car. And suddenly I was at a station. I took a taxi to the airport. My boyfriend had arranged a ticket. He was with me the whole time. Through my phone. Mentally, he was my anchor.

The plane to freedom
At the airport, my mother saw me after all. She screamed and made a scene. But the military police came. I explained everything. And in the end… I was allowed to go.
Back in the Netherlands, my neighbour called the police. She said, ‘You can’t stay here. It’s not safe.’ I was taken to a women’s shelter. I hated it. Really. It felt like being taken away again. But it was safe.

Now
I now live with support and am working on my independence. At least I am free, and that is worth so much. It is much better than a year ago. I still have some contact with my parents. Very superficial. I think they always have something planned. But I no longer feel as afraid as I did before.

For others going through this
I’m participating in this project because I know how important it is for these kinds of stories to be heard. I think there are quite a few girls who can relate to this. Maybe boys too. You really have to learn to talk. To open up. That’s difficult, but it’s the first step. I have a clear message: ‘In the end, you have to choose for yourself. Because you only live once.’ And loyalty… . yes, I felt that too. But your parents don’t know any better, you know? I try to tell myself that too. But I’m not a possession. I’m a person. And I want to live my life my way.