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By Nazanin Afshin-Jam MY ENTIRE LIFE, I have been searching for ways to speak on behalf of the most vulnerable. I have felt this calling to help alleviate suffering from a young age. I was born in Iran on Easter, in 1979. This was at the start of the revolution that spiraled my country back into the middle ages, and put to shame what our ancestor Cyrus the Great worked so hard to build 2,500 years ago – when he established the first declaration of human rights. Gender apartheid Now, under the rule of a small minority of Islamic fundamentalists, there are state-controlled media, persecution of ethnic and religious minorities, many political prisoners, and a gender apartheid that values women’s lives at half that of a man. People are stoned to death for committing adultery, limbs are cut off for stealing, and people are bound in sacks and thrown from cliffs. My father was imprisoned and tortured at the start of the revolution, because he was allowing alcohol and music at the hotel he managed. In the chaos of the revolution, he had not received any memos telling him otherwise. By luck or fate, the judge in charge of giving the death decree to my father had a car accident. This bought time for my mother to make arrangements to have him temporarily released from prison. When his wounds had healed enough, my father took the first flight out to Spain. My mother, sister and I followed, and a year later we immigrated to Canada. A normal kid Growing up in West Vancouver, I was a normal kid with a normal life – except that I internalized other people’s pain easily. If a kid would skin a knee, or if someone was crying, I could physically feel this pain in the pit of my stomach. I was baptized at age eight at St. Anthony’s Roman Catholic parish, and started to go to Sunday school. One time, our Sunday school teacher took us to hand out packages of food at a soup kitchen on Vancouver’s east side. I had never seen such downtrodden people. I remember feeling a bit nervous; but when they would smile and say thank you, I felt good. On the car ride home, I remember not being able to comprehend the wide gap between the rich and the poor – why some people didn’t have enough to eat, while my neighbours had a huge mansion and several cars parked in the driveway. This sparked many nights when I would cry myself to sleep trying to understand why. In junior high, this hopelessness was replaced with an eagerness to help. In grade 9, Mother Teresa was my role model, and I considered becoming a nun – until my parents convinced me I could make a difference in other ways. By adolescence, I had developed leadership skills through being a squadron leader with the Royal Canadian Air Cadets and through youth conf Global issues By grade 11, I started a Global Issues club with my friends, and invited a diplomat from the Indonesian consulate to debate with a victim of the war in East Timor. After getting a degree in political science and international relations at UBC, I worked with the Red Cross as a youth educator, teaching on land mines and child soldiers. I was reaching pockets of people at time – 30 people here, 30 people there. I realized I had to get my message across to a larger audience, and I asked myself: “How do I do this?” I felt people were listening more to sports stars and celebrities than they were to politicians. So how could I get a title for myself? erences such as a mock United Nations. I learned about the Miss World contest, and their motto: ‘Beauty with a purpose.’ I had already done acting and modeling, so I thought, “Why not give it a shot?” I won Miss Canada, and was runner up to Miss World. It gave me the platform I was looking for. I spent a year travelling, working on humanitarian issues and raising awareness |
When that year came to an end, I wondered: How do I reach more people? I tried my luck in music. My brother-in-law is a music manager; we did an album together, and I was able to share my stories through music. Shocked and paralyzed Midway through creating the album, I learned of a story that completely shocked and paralyzed me. I couldn’t think about anything else. I dropped everything I was doing, and concentrated for over a year to try to help. The story was of a poor Kurdish girl named Nazanin Fatehi. She was 17 and in a park with her 15 year old niece when three men tried to rape them. In self defence, she stabbed one of the men – who later died in hospital. She was tried as a criminal and sentenced to death by hanging. She was a minor, and the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child forbids the execution of those who have committed offenses before the age of 18. Under sharia law, you need four male witnesses to swear that a rape is taking place. But when are you going to have four male witnesses when you are being raped? Had she allowed the rape to take place, she could have been charged with acts against chastity and given 100 lashes; or if she had been married, she could have been sentenced to death by stoning. There was no justice. I led a campaign to help her. Our petition grew to about 350,000 signatures. That was the weight I needed to approach members of Parliament in Canada and around the world, and present the petition to the United Nations. Eventually, I met with Louise Arbour the High Commissioner on Human Rights in Geneva. She assured me action was being taken. Eventually there was so much pressure on the head of the judiciary in Iran that Nazanin was granted a stay of execution and a new trial – at which she was exonerated of murder and eventually released. Stop child executions I was very happy with that story; but it didn’t stop there. After Nazanin was freed, other parents started calling me, asking: “What about my daughter? What about my son?” That is what gave rise to the Stop Child Executions organization. In just a few years, we have became the leading organization dealing with children on death row. We concentrate on all countries – although Iran is the worst offender, with over 140 children facing the death penalty. In Mathew 25, Jesus said: “I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.” I believe that this is our role on this earth. We are called to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world. God wants us to use our blessings to help advance humanity – which, in turn, gives glory to our Father in heaven. When you are one person, you can achieve something. When you are united in a group you can achieve more. But when God is behind you and you have faith, what you can achieve is unimaginable. It is drop by drop that we create oceans of change, and put out fires of injustice in the world. Every drop is an ocean of possibility with God. Adapted from a talk at the B.C. Leadership Prayer Breakfast in April. Contact: nazanin.ca. July 2009 | ||||||
