Téhéran, Mars 1979, Avec caméra et sans voile, Journal de tournage, published in Les Temps Modernes n°661, in Nov-Dec 2010, narrates how the short documentary film Mouvement de libération des femmes iraniennes, année zéro was filmed in Tehran in March 1979 by a group of the French Women's Liberation Movement and Iranian women; translated and updated in 2023 by the author.  

       After the fall of the Pahlavi regime (Reza Shah leaves Iran on January 16th, 1979, the Imam Khomeini returns on February 1st), Iranian women celebrate their new freedom on March 8th, the International Women’s Day. They invited Kate Millett, the American feminist and author of a fundamental text, Sexual Politics, who has been very active against the dictatorship of the Shah, through CAIFI, the Committee for the Artistic and Intellectual Freedom in Iran. Kate has forwarded the invitation to her many sisters in the Women’s Lib, where I am active since 1970, in California then in France. On the eighth of March, I land at the Mehrabad airport in Tehran. Sylvina Boissonnas, from the same group of the MLF called ‘politique et psychanalyse,’ herself a director and producer of films of the Nouvelle Vague whose generosity funded the group Des Femmes, is to join me the next day. 
	We are aware that the new regime of the ayatollahs has little tolerance for the rights of women in general and for feminists in particular, but Kate Millett, who is openly homosexual and citizen of a country which stood behind the Shah, is even more at risk than us, citizens of a country where the imam Khomeini spent his exile. That’s why her Iranian friends move her and her partner and videographer Sophie Keir, every night to a different location, until they finally stay with us at the Intercontinental Hotel. 
	It is the first time Iranian women celebrate the 8th of March, with a meeting in an indoor stadium at the University. But Khomeini and his mullahs got their own idea about women’s rights: On March 7, Khomeini announces that from now on, “Women must cover themselves.”  This is the first repressive move of the so-called "revolution" which in fact excludes the rights of women. And we meet and talk with many Iranian women and men, who went into exile under the dictatorial regime of the Shah, in the United States or in France, and just returned home, but quickly understand the real nature of that "revolution".  So, on March 8 and the following days, thousands of Iranian women, brave and bare headed, responded fiercely to the new religious order, in Tehran and other cities. And we witnessed and participated in what would be the first public opposition to the ayatollah regime. 

Qom, Wednesday March 7, 1979
In the holy city of Qom, the imam Khomeini makes an official statement, « Muslim women are not dolls, they must cover themselves when they go out and they should not wear make up; they can have social activities, but with the veil », and « Curtains, sofas, and other luxury items must disappear ». On the eve of International Women’s Day, he states, « March 8 is a slogan from the West. »

Tehran, Thursday March 8, 1979 
I do not know where to find Kate, but as soon as I check in at the Intercontinental Hotel, I rush to the University where the women’s rally takes place. And on the campus, under the snow, I run into Kate and Sophie. We know each other and it feels good to meet friends. « And now to find an old friend, a Westerner, a feminist from France, like a comrade from home. We are no longer alone here…», writes Kate Millett in Going to Iran ,  her telling of the March 1979 events, « The whole thing seems easier now: France, or a French women’s group, is sharing whatever curious responsibilities we imagine we hold today, March 8. » 
      The mood on the university campus is effervescent. By decreeing the day before that women must now wear the Islamic veil in public and the workplace, the religious leaders have motivated them even more to celebrate Mars 8th, a day which is supposed to honor women’s rights. So, very spontaneously, women take to the streets, brandishing placards, banderoles and shouting words which have never been head in the streets of Tehran: “Azadi! Azadi!” (Freedom!), “We want equal rights,” “No mandatory veil,” “March 8th is not from the East nor from the West, it is an International day.” It is the first time in modern history that women publicly oppose a religious Islamic order, and they lead the first public criticism of the new regime.
        Everywhere on campus women and men are debating with passion, to me it feels like May 68 in France – if it were not for the cold weather and the snow. The signs read: “At the dawn of the revolution, women are forgotten,” “Without the liberation of women, liberation has no meaning,” and, "Free daycare centers,” “Equal work, equal pay.” The newly formed Committee for the Defense of Women’s Rights hands out leaflets: “It was not acceptable for Reza Shah to force women to remove their chador at gun point. But now trying to reimpose the veil is equally not tolerable. One year of mass movement against the dictatorship told us many things: how to get organized, how to regroup, how to fight. We did not make the revolution to have them many decisions in our place. We want the repeal all sexist laws, of all the laws preventing women from participating in political and social activities, and public office.” 
We witness the political debates inside the various left wing and liberal groups. The Maoists try to discourage women from organizing separately by themselves. The communist party organized its own meeting that day where men spoke eloquently about the role of women in the revolution, while the women listened and were not invited nor allowed to talk. The People’s Mujahideens are hesitant between the precepts of God, and those of the revolution; while the Fedayins, hardcore Marxists, debate the meaning of the revolutionary process. Alas, Iranian women cannot not rely on the support of a coalition of liberal men. 
Roya, a member of the Women’s Rights Defense Committee, tells us about her 8th of March, with a demonstration of high schools girls who marched through Tehran all the way to the University, as their number was swelling, “We were 10.000”, she says, when at the Hafez bridge, a group of religious fanatics attacked them and screamed: “We do not want women to walk naked in the streets.” The fight was violent, the women took blows, their signs were torn apart, and the demonstration had to disperse. 
In Tehran, that week, each protest by women attracts a gang of religious fanatics, only men, their eyes excited, their bodies agitated and menacing, and screaming insults at them. On March 8th, they shout the latest proclamation by the imam Khomeini, “Not wearing the veil is counter revolutionary.”  Sometimes, they even attack women with sticks, tear apart their banderoles, or even fire shots in the air to terrorize them.

University of Tehran, Indoor Stadium, 5 pm
The first International Women’s Day March 8th meeting to take place in Iran gathers 3.000 women in the indoor stadium of the university – and some amongst them wear a scarf. They chant their slogans like a chorus; applaud each new message of solidarity and each woman addressing the crowd. Taraneh Haeri speaks French and kindly translates for me. 
The speakers question the meaning of the “ismalist revolution” for the women of Iran: no right to divorce; no right to contraception nor abortion; adultery being sanctioned (three days before, a woman was whipped in public); access denied to some professions, starting with women barred from being judges; and the repeal of laws protecting women from a strict interpretation of Islam, like the Family Protection Act from 1967. 
All the women attending that meeting are very concerned. One tells how, in Qom, the holy city, men throw stones at women and say: « The veil on the head, or a blow to the head. » The meeting takes place without disruption, as some men, who sympathize with the cause of women, have been quietly keeping guard at the doors. That day, enthusiastic women plan on organizing local committees in high schools, universities, factories, public services, villages…; they are looking for a place, want to publish a bulletin, pamphlets, they already have a poster, and schedule another meeting for the next day.

Friday March 9 
That morning, Sylvina, Kate, Sophie, and me, attend a meeting of women on the university campus. They want to respond to the ban from certain jobs, like judges, and they call for a sit-in to-morrow at the Ministry of Justice:  women will leave their workplace, their home, girls their schools, students their university and will form a huge star gathering finally at the Ministry of Justice.
In my notebook that day, about Khomeini: « Women say: we are going to get rid of that guy. »

Saturday March 10; Ministry of Justice, 9 am 
Five thousand women occupy the spacey atrium of the Ministry of Justice. The first floor, the balconies upstairs are packed with cheerful women, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, singing, brandishing signs, handing out leaflets. Some women address the crowd: a secretary, a nurse, a teacher, a woman working in public television where they are now restricted to children’s programming and only if their faces are not shown on the screen. A woman who is strongly religious admits to us: “If they continue to attack women, I will renounce Islam.” 
A march had been scheduled for March 16, but women respond to the emergency and call for a demonstration on Monday March 12, at 9 am. With this situation developing, we decide a crew will come from Paris to record those historical events, the first open resistance of women to the Islamic laws on modern history.
Persian Restaurant, Hotel Intercontinental, 1 pm
We are meeting our friend Roya, from the Women’s Rights Defense Committee, in the Persian restaurant of our hotel, a serene place (plus we are the only clients!), simple and yet so refined with its walls painted with colorful Persian miniatures, an atmosphere in great contrast with the tension we feel is escalating in the streets of the city. Meats, spicy vegetables, the Iranian food is exquisite, and we down a bottle of Shiraz, a very good wine we “saved” because, a few days after, all the reserves of alcohol at the hotel were destroyed. 
During our lunch, we hear on the radio an appeasing statement by Taleghani, a more liberal imam, which Roya translates live for us: he encourages Iranian women « to go back to their roots, as covering is an Eastern custom », but he concedes that the Islamic veil “is not mandatory.” It looks like Iranian women have scored their first victory. We are very happy.

Sunday March 11
The Sunday papers print the statement by Imam Taleghani, and their headlines read: «Wearing the veil is not mandatory. »

Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 11 am
Women have called for a meeting at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. A woman who is a diplomat tells us: « The Muslim religion never forced women to wear the veil; this was invented 400 years ago and imposed by the dynasty of the Safrit. To ask women to wear the chador is like sending them back home. I never wore the chador nor the veil, but I am wearing this scarf on purpose today, to say that it is not a matter of what we are wearing, what we want is our women’s rights. »
All day long, our Iranian sisters put up posters on the walls of the city and hand out leaflets; many are harassed, or arrested by members of the pro-Khomeini committees, interrogated, and finally released.

Press Conference, Intercontinental Hotel, 3 pm
We hold a press conference at the hotel, to announce our solidarity with the fight of Iranian women and our participation in the march on Monday. We had planned some parity, three Iranian women, and three Westerners, Kate Millett, Sylvina Boissonnas, and me. But only Kateh Vafadari is able to come, late because she has been sticking up posters, but without her comrades who fear, with good reason, to expose their identity in front of the media, and the mullahs. As we are waiting for her to show up, we are bombarded with a barrage of very aggressive questions, accused of about every sin under the Persian sky, like supporting the previous regime by criticizing its replacement, being foreigners interfering with a free state, secretly representing some organization and when we deny, then we are accused of not being representative etc. It feels like a fire squad, but we hold our ground. Sylvina rightfully says that “monotheism is also a pillar of patriarchy in the western world, where the Pope tries to ban the right to abortion.”  
Kate is forced to justify her presence, reminds the reporters – and obviously some representatives of the regime in the room- that “the women’s liberation movement is international” and that, for many years, she took position against the Shah and was very active within Caifi. A journalist from the Los Angeles Times tries, unsuccessfully, to have her pronounce the words “Khomeini” and “phallocrat” in the same sentence, hoping for a juicy headline the next day. 
Courageous Kateh is very affirmative: “We had 4.000 women political prisoners under the Shah. The government of Khomeini has not done anything in favor of women, and that is why we are fighting for. We march to express what we want. If women do not want to wear the chador, no one can force them to do so.”

Monday March 12 - in the streets of Tehran, all the way to Liberty Square 
The demonstration starts from the university campus. A spring sun and fine weather are back, and the atmosphere quite electric, the crowd is huge, fifty thousand women, most of them bare headed, but some with their heads covered, and many men, marching together from the University to the former Shahyad Square, renamed Liberty Square. Women chant: “We are awake, our march is not only about the veil. Our fight is for equal pay, the right of women to all jobs; the freedom of the press; the freedom of expression, the freedom to meet and gather…” All the liberal forces in Iran are present, with many Kurds amongst them, as they about to become the next target of the Islamic regime.
In the telex sent on March 13 by our team, I narrate how, at the onset of the march, I see a row of young teenagers happily hopping in rhythm, like lively and vibrant warriors. I take their pictures, and we talk. Arezou from the French school Jeanne d’Arc does the translation, and then I meet Mojgan, fourteen years old, always laughing, so free, and her sister Mahdokht and Sarah and all their pals; we exchange our names and phone numbers. They skipped school and had to climb the wall as the headmistress did not want them to leave. Later during the march, Mojgan hands out to me her amber medallion with her name in Farsi engraved; I still have it, and often wear it. 
Our crew of cinematographers, Sylviane Rey and Michelle Muller, who had just landed in Tehran, joined the march with a 16mm Beaulieu camera and a heavy Nagra for the sound. Both shot, with Sylvina, the exceptional great visuals of the documentary, filmed from the inside as we experience this march with much intensity. As we walk, we meet and talk with many women and the ones who speak English or French help us communicate. We march past a hospital, and the nurses wave signs of solidarity from the balconies. But things get tougher towards the end of the march, pressure builds and religious fanatics circle around women and prevent them, symbolically, to reach Liberty Square. Later, we learn how other women’s marches have taken place in Isfahan, Tabriz, and Sanandaj in Kurdistan. 
As soon as we are back at the hotel, reporters from the international media call us – me- to get an update on what happened. They did not venture outside – by fear of the danger, or fear of losing their accreditations if they report on the first opposition to the Khomeini regime, or is it because they simply despise or do not comprehend how historically important those protests by women are? As much as we could, we relayed the words of our Iranian sisters to the media and the world. Abroad, some media paid attention to the story, like the Los Angeles Times, with a Page one headline on March 9, « Veiled warning: Modern Iran Women Cool to Holy Edicts », investigating the issues around the Islamic veil; another front-page article on March 11, Women Protest New Iran Regime for Third Day, and on March 12, a photograph of Kate Millett, Sylvina Boissonnas, and myself at our press conference. The French media in general, the left leaning daily Libération particularly, protect the imams and do not understand how important and extraordinary the women’s protest is. 

Tuesday March 13 - Headquarter of Iranian public television, 10 am 
To complain about the censorship of the women’s demonstrations by Iranian television, then headed by Sadegh Ghotbzadeh (who was later fired and executed by the regime), Iranian women call for a sit-in in front of the T.V. headquarters. We know that the situation is getting dangerous for the four of us, very visible in the streets of Tehran with our cinema equipment recording a protest against the regime. Mojgan calls me at the hotel in the morning to tell me that she and her pals are going to the sit-in, and since they are in far greater danger than we are, and our witnessing and recording any incident can eventually protect them, we decide to go to the sit-in, with our gear.
Women are in smaller numbers that morning in front of the T.V. building, a few hundreds, and religious fanatics are standing across from a ditch, and they are… screaming at us. Despite the uproar, the hustling, we do film – and it is the last public event we record, thus very valuable testimonies. We speak with two women who wear the chador, Mahboubeh and Soghra, and they give the best of refutations to the regime of the ayatollahs: “We the women have had martyrs just like men. We fought, with and without the veil, for our freedom. And if Khomeini continues like this, me, a true Muslim, I will quit my religion.” 
In a very strong moment in the documentary, they explain how the chador hampers them every moment of their life: “I have been wearing the chador for years. The chador prevents me from moving, from walking, from holding my child by the hand. But I did not come to the demonstration because I want to stop wearing the chador. I have six daughters, and I came because I do not want them to be forced by men to wear the chador. I came to defend my daughters against the chador.”  
We also film our younger friends, the schoolgirls, Mojgan with her red head band, who says: “I want to be free; I want to speak when I want to, do whatever I want to do, I do not like to receive blows, I want to write what I want to write. My mother agrees with me, she cannot stand to no longer be able to walk freely in the streets.” 
Haydeh, who speaks French fluently, sounds very convincing with her Parisian accent: “On TV and on the radio, it is total censorship, we are not allowed to talk, only the Islamic government! Yesterday, we had a big demonstration, thousands of us were there, but they said nothing, as if we did nothing… But they say: “Women can no longer be judges; women must wear the chador.” We demonstrate to say that the government has no right to say, ‘Do this’ or ‘Do not do that.’ It is up to us to choose and decide for our rights.”
As the sit-in wraps, counterdemonstrators start pursuing women, including the four of us. Kate and Sophie have already left. And the doors to our taxi are locked, the driver absent, as he went to demonstrate with the fanatics! In the rush, we get separated, Michelle, Sylviane et Sylvina running with other women to take refuge in a nearby school yard, and me staying near our taxi, as I was behind anyway and have the 14-pound Nagra on my right shoulder, not ideal to run fast. 
The first guy who approaches looks hysterical and disheveled, I have a close-up on his crazy shiny eyes and think... “Centuries of religion are like opium.” He grabs my right wrist and is shaking my arm, hoping I will drop the Nagra, but he is doing it the way a Muslim touches a woman he is not supposed to touch, a kind of “Muslim Grab,” gentle and inefficient, he is not gonna get my Nagra, no way. Then comes a second guy, looking just as hysterical. I stand straight, composed, and strangely remember I have British blood to explain how cool I feel. Then a third guy, looking neater, shows up and I think that three against one, that’s starting to be a bit unbalanced. 
And this is when the story gets even more interesting. For years, I misinterpreted the scene: two bad guys shake me, another guy shows up, says something in Farsi which I do not understand but the consequence is that the bad guys let go of me. So, I thought the third man must be a good guy, siding for the women. But it does not compute. First, why would the fanatics have listened to someone not from their side? Then, the first time I saw the president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad on television (addressing the United Nations), I had a strange feeling of having met him somewhere, which at first, I dismissed. But I think it very plausible, given his then role with the main pro-Khomeini student body, the Office for Strengthening the Unity between Universities and Theological Seminaries (OSU) and his subsequent, even though disputed, role in the hostage taking at the American Embassy eight months later, than he could have been the one to intervene that day. It was not in the best interest of the young Islamic republic to create any diplomatic incident involving French citizens. Did the “third man” remind the two bad guys of the Islamic code prohibiting any physical contact with unrelated members of the opposite sex, of any type, including simply shaking hands or touching cheeks. Or just said, "Don't worry, we'll take care of them later." Quite an interesting twist anyway: the "savior" was probably Ahmadinejad! 

Wednesday March 14 - Hospital roof, 10 am
We film nurses we met at the march on the roof of their hospital, with the majestic snowy peaks in the background. Elizabet, with her beautiful black hair, took care of the wounded during the “revolution,” and is very articulate and poignant: “Since last Thursday, we have a problem with the religious leaders, and we have taken to the streets to say that we do not want to go under the veil. If this is what they planned all along, they should have told us before the revolution that men and women are not equal! We, as women, want to continue to fight.”  What has become of Elizabet and her friends?

Gardens of the Intercontinental Hotel, afternoon
We record an interview with Kate Millett, who is very impressed by the courage and ardor of Iranian women: « Those are women who have been repressed for a very long time, they participated in the revolution, they took to the streets, they were brave enough to face the army tanks, they know how to confront real danger and many women told me that they are ready to die for their rights, that the fight must go on. »

Thursday March 15
The new regime just expelled the American activist Ralph Schoenman and might be expelling Kate Millett! If that’s the case, the four of us must also be on their list, as we are so visible running around in Tehran with a big camera and must be on their radar since our press conference on Sunday. We noticed that when we leave the hotel, we never get a regular taxi, but always a car called specially for us -- with a driver probably understanding French and spying on “forces hostile to the nation.” We are also aware our rooms are being searched, down to the drawers where we leave sweaters precisely folded, but not so when we come back.
After communicating with our comrades in Paris, we decide to take the reels of film and sound out of Iran immediately, on a plane to anywhere. It is too late for Sylvina and Michelle to catch the Air France flight and they board a Swiss Air flight to Zurich; with everything we shot since March 12. We did beat the censorship of Khomeini, who that week prohibited any pictures to leave Iran, a decision clearly targeting us. But we had already saved our film!

Friday March 16 
It is too risky for us to go out and film the march of women for the veil, set up in reaction to the women’s movement, anyway, this is not what we came to witness. But Sylviane and I, the last ones remaining in Tehran from our team, still meet some women, as discreetly as possible, to not endanger them. We even record, with our black and white video camera, a long interview with our friend Taraneh Haeri. She talks, in fluent French, about her life in Iran, her struggles, her being homosexual, “On Monday, women came because they do not want to wear the veil, but they realized at the end of the day that they were against Khomeini, their political awareness was immediate.” But we know that for Taraneh, we cannot risk having this tape confiscated as we leave. 
In my notebook that day, a meeting called by the Kurds, at 3pm.

Saturday March 17 - Top floor restaurant, Intercontinental Hotel
The night before our departure – or at least we hope so! - we have dinner in the top floor restaurant of our hotel and its stunning view on the snowy peaks of the city, with a reporter from the French press agency AFP. He is mad at us because their rolls of still films have been confiscated that afternoon at the airport, « and it is your fault », or so he says as he is eating that most delicious caviar. We plead guilty to the fact that our promenades, camera in hand, in the streets of Tehran probably drove Khomeini to prohibit any images from leaving Iran! « They are not going to let you out to-morrow that easily », he warns us. Our rushes are already in Paris and the next day, we have just ourselves and all our gear (seven bags of it) to ‘extract,’ but this guy really tries to scare us. I remember his total lack of respect, he was “the” big reporter, and for him we were just four women making a film on a piece of cloth.
That day, I have (finally) called the French Embassy in Tehran, and spoken with Jean-Claude Cousseran, the number two, a very nice man. Of course – he laughs! – they are aware of our presence in town. I tell him that the situation around us is getting tighter, that we have reservations on Air France on Sunday, I give him our names, and he gives me the phone numbers where he can be reached, in case we encounter a problem. 

Sunday March 18 
Everything is fine until we check out and pay our bill in the hotel lobby. Then, guys from a ‘militia’ – as they are neither hotel employees nor police officers in a uniform - demand to check our passports and plane tickets. They accompany us to the taxi, and we understand by their tone of voice that they order the driver to take us straight to the airport. (We learned after arriving in Paris through a UPI agency wire that we had been officially expelled). Except that we have a package, the videotaped interview with Taraneh, that we must drop at some friends so they can send it to Paris trough a clandestine network. 
The taxi drives on and I show the wrapped package to the driver, and I say: « Gift. Friend. » At first, he does not seem to welcome the idea, because he got his instructions to take us straight to the airport, but he changes his mind – hoping he will come back with some information. So, he follows the instructions I read from my notebook, as we had gone there the day before: down on Los Angeles Avenue (now Hejab Street), then Vessal-Chirazi Avenue, right, left… Of course, we cannot put our friends at risk and give him their address, so I have the driver stop at some place, I walk in the opposite direction of where our friends live, I go round, run, they are waiting at the door, they get the tape (which we did receive later). Back in the taxi, I can see in the rear mirror that the driver is furious, because he disobeyed but comes back with no espionage. I just say, « You can go to the airport now. » Sylviane has not been feeling so well, she is pale, so we decide to go through customs and security separately, she has nothing on her that could incriminate her, and I go through with the seven bags of equipment. 
During a mostly sleepless night, I have prepared a speech in broken English: « We know Khomeini say, “No picture.” So, we go home. We have nothing. » And I voluntarily unzip the bags, show the Beaulieu camera, the Nagra, the video recorder, the cans of reels and tapes. I say, “Not used. You can open but prefer not.” Always better to write your own dialogue. The customs guy lets me go, I am clear. I register our luggage and walk into the boarding area. (Clearly, the "committees" had poor coordination between the city and the airport. Crazy but inefficient. And they had never dealt with our brand of women.)
Sylviane is not in the boarding area, and I suspect she is being questioned (she is). So, I tell the Air France hôtesse that we might have a problem, that the plane cannot leave without my friend, and that the French Embassy should be contacted. Then, Sylviane walks into the boarding area, and in one second her pale face turns back to her natural color. We are free. We take off and fly over the Mediterranean Sea, so luminous. In the taxi driving me back to my room on the rue Dauphine, I hear for the first time the wonderful song by Francis Cabrel, Je l’aime à mourir: « Elle a dû faire toutes les guerres, pour être si forte aujourd’hui, toutes les guerres de la vie, et l’amour aussi…» since then recorded by Shakira. (She must have fought many wars to be so strong today/All the wars of life/And made love too).

Paris, Monday March 19 - Editing and mixing of the documentary "mouvement de libération des femmes iraniennes, année zéro"

The film is developed when we come back, and the four of us rush into the editing room, with the help of Iranian women living in Paris, Choucheh and Mandana, who help us with the translations and the voice dubbing (it would be so nice to reconnect with them). I write and record the voice over, with Samirah Arbia. Christine Ockrent, a famous French television journalist comes to screen our pictures and uses some shots in her presentation of her jail interview of Amir Abbas Hoveyda, former Prime minister of the Shah, executed on April 7, 1979, soon after the broadcast by French television FR3.

Thursday March 22 
« Mouvement de Libération des Femmes Iraniennes Année Zéro », (Iranian Women’s Liberation Movement, Year Zero) a 13-minute short documentary, in color, is ready and projected for the first time at a meeting against the Islamist regime taking place at the Mutualité in the 5th district of Paris. 

Wednesday March 28 
We show our film to a TF1 magazine program, but they prefer to broadcast a story on trekking in Nepal. Then we bring it to Paul Nahon and Bernard Benyamin, editors in chief of International News for Antenne 2, who pay attention to the story, and even congratulate us on the quality of the pictures: « Our own cameramen could learn from this. »  Antenne 2 does broadcast four minutes in the main 8pm newscast, graciously presented by Patrick Poivre d’Arvor.

December 1979 - News from Tehran
Faranguis, our correspondent in Tehran, writes: « The Women’s solidarity Committee is still meeting. We plan on organizing a women’s week before the 8th of March. » Mojgan writes a long and insightful letter: « Iran is no longer like it was before. All the progress is gone, and we are not going to see it back before very long. »
Then, alas, we do not hear much from our Iranian friends… Today, the news out of Iran is still as revolting, horrifying as if coming from the middle ages, stoning, executions, or arrests for wearing the “wrong Islamic veil.”

Looking for Mojgan, finding Kateh
To find Mojgan, all I had was her address from 1979, and a strong determination that at whatever age, as soon as the mullahs depart, I would fly to Iran and try and find her. Maybe she lived in Los Angeles – Tehrangeles- not far from me! In 2010, I posted my photo on Facebook wearing her medallion. I would check her name on Google regularly, with no results, but I was encouraged by two facts: married Iranian women keep their own name, and her last name is a rare surname (which I prefer not to reveal). In June 2010, I found someone on Facebook with the same name. I left a prudent message asking if he could be related with a Mojgan I met in Iran in 1979. Late August, he answered that yes, she was his cousin. I became Facebook friends with Mojgan’s two sons, who gave me her number. I called her, she speaks little English, but I recognized her laugh, “I am so happy to find you,” she said. 	I also found Kateh Vafadari, now living in the United States, on Facebook. Her brother, Kasra Vafadari, a specialist of pre-Islamic Persia, teaching at the University of Nanterre, was assassinated in Paris in May 2005. 
Always, I wonder what became of all our Iranian brave friends… Arezou, Azar, Chafai, Chahnaz, Choucheh, Elahe, Elizabet, Fari, Farough, Farzaneh, Faranguis, Fereshteh (« angel» in farsi), Haydeh, Kateh, Mahboubeh, Mahboud, Mandana, Mojgan, Nahid, Nassoudeh, Nassrin, Nassir, Nelufar, Parvine, Rezvan, Roya, Sarah, Shahla, Shahin, Sima, Soghra, Soleyha, Taraneh, Virginia… 

A film saved, then lost, and found thanks to the Internet
Regrettably, despite my requests (starting in 1989), this historical documentary has never been distributed and the precious footage from Tehran, the 16mm rushes have not been properly saved, digitized, archived, and made available. Very valuable also, the taped interview with Taraneh Haeri, who died in Paris in the 1990’s, and the hundred photographs I took.
But in March 2009, the year of the Green movement and thirty years after it was shot, Iranian opponents to the regime digitized a copy of our film and posted it on the web. Since then, this cult video has been everywhere on the Internet, in versions spontaneously subtitled or dubbed in Farsi, in English, (under the title, « Iranian Women March against Hijab and Islamic laws »), in Arabic,  German etc. 
The first countries where our short was most watched on You Tube were Iran, the United States, Germany, and Pakistan and Afghanistan. It is now known as "Year Zero" in the Iranian community.
More recently, a version subtitled in English can be seen on the streaming platform Docunight.


YEAR ZERO 1979: a campaign to save the Tehran pictures
In 2023, after too many unsuccessful requests to the producers of our documentary, from me and so many Iranian activists, filmmakers, writers... I decided to lauch a campaign at www.YearZero1979.org.
In June 2023, the French National library BnF offered to digitize and restore the 16mm footage and the 3/4 tape with Taraneh's interview, but has received not response yet.

Claudine Mulard

©Claudine Mulard 2023 - All rights reserved; no reproduction without permission.
Tehran, March 1979 the making of YEAR ZERO

Tehran, March 1979, a Camera and no Veil

Claudine Mulard

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