Threads of Belonging, Echoes of Exile

The actions of an unidentified Iranian woman, now known online as the “science and research girl,” have reignited a fierce debate about state control and personal freedoms in Iran. On November 2, 2024, video footage captured her walking in her underwear outside Azad University in Tehran—an act that followed an alleged confrontation with university security over her attire, reportedly deemed “insufficiently Islamic.” Soon after, a second video emerged showing security personnel escorting her to a vehicle, with authorities later stating she was admitted to a psychiatric facility due to “psychological disorders.” This explanation, however, has raised eyebrows, as previous cases suggest that psychiatric confinement has been a tactic used against women who defy the state.^[1]

For many Iranians, she is more than just another dissenter; she’s a symbol of a broader resistance against restrictive dress codes and state intrusion. Since Mahsa (Jina) Amini’s tragic death in 2022, symbolized by the Woman, Life, Freedom movement, the headscarf has once again become a powerful and contested symbol. Today, women who defy these laws face arrest and other punishments, risking their freedom for the simple right to self-expression. This incident highlights the growing divide between the state’s rigid control and the Iranian public’s demand for autonomy.

But the impact of this struggle goes beyond Iran’s borders. In the Iranian diaspora, this woman’s defiance resonates deeply, touching layers of memory, identity, and trauma that have accumulated over generations. The struggles of Iranians at home, including those of ethnic minorities like Mahsa (Jina) Amini, are often reinterpreted in ways that flatten their depth, cast through the lens of white liberal feminism, Islamophobia, or Orientalist narratives that treat Muslim women as symbols rather than individuals. These interpretations—frequently shaped by external agendas—ignore the unique challenges within Iran, simplifying complex realities into talking points that serve larger political narratives.

In the Iranian diaspora, these tensions fuel networks of nostalgia, resentment, and estrangement, creating what the sociologist Pierre Bourdieu might describe as a “spontaneous sociology” of shared understandings.^[2] This collective disposition not only influences emotional and financial support but also drives the diaspora’s advocacy on issues that touch foreign policy. The community, through its solidarity and its fissures, reflects and refracts Iran’s turbulent present—showing us that exile can both preserve and distort what it means to belong.

Beyond Diaspora

Today, it’s easy to toss around words like “diaspora,” but the term has taken on such a broad meaning that it sometimes loses its power. The sociologist Rogers Brubaker describes a “diaspora diaspora,” suggesting that the term has been stretched so far that it may no longer capture what’s unique about the immigrant experience.^[3] The idea is simple: historians and sociologists have long recognized that migration isn’t just a one-way journey of assimilation. Similarly, scholars like Evelyn Hu-DeHart argue that “diaspora” has been used so loosely that it often lacks the precision needed to analyze how immigrant communities actually live, struggle, and shape their identities across borders.^[4]

This expansive use of the word “diaspora” often leads us to see migrant communities as cohesive, homogenous groups. But in reality, communities like the Iranian diaspora in France are anything but monolithic. They are shaped by shifting alliances, generational divides, and a deep-seated tension between the longing to preserve a cultural identity and the push to adapt to new environments. For instance, traditional classifications like “ethno-national diaspora” or “conflict-generated diaspora” assign fixed identities, oversimplifying the nuanced and often fluid ways migrants see themselves and their homeland.

Take Iranian migrants, for instance: they often form what Maarten A. Hajer calls a “discourse coalition”—networks bound not by shared ethnicity or religion but by shared narratives.^[5] When Iranian migrants identify as part of a diaspora, they tap into these narrative coalitions. Even if their reasons for migration differ—whether fleeing political repression or seeking economic opportunity—their stories often intertwine, forming unconventional alliances centered around the struggles and ideals they carry with them.

Nostalgia in these communities, particularly the Iranian diaspora, creates intricate webs of resentment and longing that cross generations. The yearning for a homeland—an Iran that may not even exist in reality—creates powerful collective memories that shape everything from how Iranians abroad allocate emotional support to how they advocate for change. It’s a collective psychology that often shapes perspectives on foreign policy and builds networks of solidarity.

Iranian Identity Beyond Borders

When we talk about the Iranian diaspora, especially in France, it’s tempting to view it as a story of cultural preservation versus assimilation. But that narrative misses the complexities that make these communities unique. Iranian migrants to France didn’t arrive as a cohesive group with a singular purpose; they were students, intellectuals, political dissidents, and everyday people from vastly different backgrounds. Each of these individuals brought their own hopes, their own struggles, and their own versions of “Iran” to France, creating a community that is both united and divided by memory, ideology, and identity.

In France, the Iranian community spans political affiliations and religious beliefs, with some aligning with leftist groups like the Tudeh Party or the Mujahedin-e Khalq, while others support the monarchy. The history of Iranian migration reflects these divides: early migrants were often intellectual “exiles of knowledge,” whereas later waves included politically motivated individuals escaping repression. Over time, these groups created their own networks, each carrying different memories of Iran and visions of what it should be.^[6]

Yet, the longing for “home” doesn’t necessarily translate into a desire to return. Many Iranians in France describe a sense of placelessness that is both familiar and foreign. This sentiment is captured perfectly by the Persian phrase kharej az keshvar, which literally means “out of the country” but resonates as a feeling of being perpetually outside of a homeland that only exists in memory. It’s a sentiment that shapes the Iranian identity abroad, fostering what cultural historian Stuart Hall would call an “evolving process” of representation rather than a fixed cultural identity. In this way, Iranian identity becomes a dynamic story—a process that is constantly rewritten, shaped by both memory and the experiences of life abroad.^[7]

In their efforts to preserve a sense of belonging, many Iranian migrants find themselves creating imagined versions of Iran, drawing from nostalgic memories that may never have been real. This longing shapes everything from cultural production to political engagement. By revisiting Franco-Iranian cultural institutions and the legacy of Iranian activism, we see how Iranians in France have built vibrant networks that not only preserve Iranian culture but also critique it, adapt it, and sometimes even mythologize it.

A Complex Legacy

The story of Iranian migration to France is anything but straightforward. Unlike traditional labor migration, early waves of Iranian migrants to France came from intellectual and middle-class backgrounds. Many were students and professionals, people who saw France as a place where they could grow intellectually while staying connected to their heritage. For these Iranians, migrating wasn’t just about economic opportunity—it was about finding a place where they could engage with ideas, be part of a global conversation, and redefine their identity in a new context.

Throughout the twentieth century, multiple waves of migration created a layered, diverse Iranian community in France. Monarchists, leftists, political exiles, and intellectuals each brought their own values and visions of Iran. With each wave, the community grew more complex. And while they shared the experience of being Iranian in a foreign land, their political beliefs, class backgrounds, and personal histories often set them apart.

Despite these differences, one common thread persisted: a strong sense of cultural pride combined with a desire for integration. Many Iranians in France describe themselves as well-assimilated, successful citizens who have contributed meaningfully to French society. They celebrate their Iranian heritage but also embrace the French ideals of republicanism, liberty, and social responsibility. In doing so, they’ve created a unique identity, one that balances Iranian cultural pride with a commitment to their new home. This nuanced identity challenges the idea that diaspora communities must choose between their heritage and their host country—instead, they can redefine what it means to belong.

From the Past to the Present

For the Iranian diaspora in France, cultural centers have played a crucial role in preserving and sharing Iranian heritage. Organizations like the Aftab and Pouya centers serve as more than just meeting places—they’re vibrant hubs where language, literature, and history come alive for Iranians and for those eager to learn about Iranian culture. In France, where Iranian religious institutions are sparse, these secular cultural centers fill a vital role, providing Iranians with a sense of community and belonging outside of religious or political affiliations.

One standout example is the Centre for Iranian Documentation and Research, which houses records from Arash: A Persian Monthly of Culture and Social Affairs, a long-standing journal that ran from 1991 to 2014. This journal, created by Parviz Qelichkhani and Najmeh Mussavi Peimbari, became a platform for cultural expression and intellectual exchange. For many in the diaspora, publications like Arash represented a bridge between Iran’s past and present, allowing them to stay connected to their roots while exploring new ideas and identities.^[8]

These centers and publications do more than preserve Iranian culture; they also foster dialogue and bridge generational gaps. For younger Iranians who may have never lived in Iran, these cultural hubs offer a way to connect with their heritage, learning about their identity not through rigid definitions but through open, evolving conversations. In doing so, the Iranian community in France demonstrates that culture isn’t static—it grows, adapts, and finds new life in each generation. This approach to heritage not only sustains Iranian identity abroad but also strengthens the community’s resilience and unity.

The Power of Memory

Understanding the full impact of the Iranian diaspora in France is challenging, partly because of the community’s complex and sometimes hidden nature. Estimates on the size of the Iranian population in France vary widely due to limited data and the difficulty in capturing the diversity within this group. By some estimates, there are around 24,000 to 26,000 Iranians in France, though others suggest the numbers could be higher. These figures may seem small, especially compared to other immigrant communities, but the influence of the Iranian diaspora in France has always extended beyond numbers.^[9]

In part, this is because many Iranians in France came not just as immigrants but as intellectuals, artists, and political exiles. They brought with them a wealth of knowledge, skills, and cultural contributions that have made a lasting impact on French society. This community includes high-profile intellectuals and political figures, such as former Iranian President Abolhassan Bani Sadr and leaders of the Mujahedin-e Khalq, who have found a platform in France for their voices and ideas.

Yet, the story of Iranians in France is also one of resilience in the face of challenges. Many have struggled with underemployment, facing barriers that limit their professional opportunities despite high levels of education. Even so, they emphasize their successful integration and contributions to French society, highlighting that being Iranian in France means finding ways to thrive and give back. This story of resilience, often under the radar, speaks to the unique position of the Iranian community in France—small in numbers but rich in cultural and intellectual influence.

A Legacy of Activism

For Iranians who moved to France, especially the students who came after World War II, the country became more than just a place to study—it was a place to imagine a future for Iran. In 1948, Iranian students founded the Association des étudiants iraniens en France (AEIF) in Paris, setting out with a mission to introduce Iranian culture to the French while building connections with each other. Yet, their mission quickly took on a political edge. At a time when both France and Iran were grappling with profound social and political shifts, these students saw France as a partner in their struggle for progress back home.

This organization didn’t last long; it was dissolved in 1952 after French authorities, suspicious of its leftist leanings, expelled one of its leaders. But the spirit of the AEIF endured, capturing the political ambitions of Iranian students in France. Their bulletins, featuring literature, cinema, and Persian poetry, were filled with revolutionary ideals. For them, France wasn’t just a country—it was a symbol of liberation and a model for change.

Ehsan Naraghi, one of these intellectuals, portrayed France as a liberating force in Iranian history, suggesting that revolutionary ideas from France inspired the Iranian Constitutional Revolution of the early twentieth century. His vision traced Iran’s political awakening back to France’s influence, connecting Amir Kabir’s reforms in the nineteenth century and the establishment of Tehran’s Dar ul-Funun to French educational ideals. By linking Iranian history with French revolutionary principles, Naraghi created a powerful narrative of kinship, casting Iran’s political future as inherently intertwined with the values of the French Revolution.^[10]

But Naraghi’s story was more than historical admiration—it was a blueprint for change. Through his writings, he built a vision of Iran that aligned with progressive, emancipatory ideals, imagining an Iranian identity that could thrive outside of Iran yet draw strength from its heritage. For him and his peers, French culture didn’t dilute Iranian identity; it enhanced it, inspiring a new generation of Iranians to believe that democratic reform was not only possible but deeply rooted in their own cultural journey.

Monarchist Nostalgia Abroad

While many Iranian migrants to France found inspiration in progressive ideals, others held tightly to memories of pre-revolutionary Iran, longing for a return to what they saw as a lost golden age. This longing is most visible among monarchists—Iranians who continue to revere the Pahlavi era and its symbols. For these Iranians, places like the bookstore Utopiran Naakojaa, adorned with the Lion and Sun flag, have become nostalgic sanctuaries. Here, the monarchist community publishes Les cahiers d’avant la chute (“Notebooks Before the Fall”), a publication that recalls the era before the 1979 Islamic Revolution as a time of dignity and freedom.

One of its contributors, Hossein Abkenar, speaks to this sentiment directly. In his articles, he highlights human rights abuses by the current Iranian regime, but he frames them within a narrative that idealizes pre-Islamic Persia. His writing draws on imagery that paints Islam as an alien imposition on Iran’s identity, an intrusion that many monarchists blame for Iran’s current struggles. For Abkenar and those who share his views, the Iranian monarchy represents not just a political system but a cultural identity rooted in a time before “Islamic violence,” as he controversially phrases it.^[11]

This type of nostalgia, often idealizing a pre-revolutionary Iran, fuels a sense of community among monarchist Iranians abroad. Sociologist Hamid Naficy describes nostalgia in the Iranian diaspora as both a source of comfort and a source of tension, where the longing for an unattainable past reinforces a sense of loss.^[12] In this way, nostalgia shapes a unique identity that sets monarchists apart even within the broader Iranian community in France. Their vision of Iran is one that exists outside of time, a dream of what they believe Iran could be if it were free from its current constraints.

However, this idealized image of Iran, frozen in time, can also lead to disillusionment. When memories are idealized to this extent, reality often falls short, creating a longing that can never be fully satisfied. This yearning for a lost Iran doesn’t just offer comfort—it also deepens divisions, fostering an identity built more on opposition to the present regime than on any shared vision for the future.

The Psychic Afterlives of Nostalgia

For both progressives and monarchists in the Iranian diaspora, the sense of belonging—and not belonging—is a powerful force. The experience of exile often combines the pain of displacement with a longing for the past, creating a unique kind of nostalgia. Yet this nostalgia is more than just sentiment; it becomes a way of life that shapes the Iranian community’s view of itself, its homeland, and even its politics.

What we see in writings from both left-leaning figures like Ehsan Naraghi and figures sympathetic to the monarchist cause like Hossein Abkenar is a shared, though conflicting, sense of what it means to be Iranian outside of Iran. Naraghi saw liberation in his Marxist vision, where Iran’s future was shaped by progressive ideals drawn from French culture. Abkenar, on the other hand, looks backward, idealizing a pre-Islamic identity and viewing Iran’s challenges through the lens of Islamic oppression. Both perspectives emerge from a shared need to define an identity that feels lost in exile, yet each draws on very different memories and ideologies to achieve it.

This clash of memories creates a spontaneous sociology within the diaspora—a way of understanding the world that is shaped by shared memories, collective grief, and historical grievances. In this case, nostalgia doesn’t just recall the past; it actively shapes how Iranians abroad see their present and future. It affects how they allocate their emotional and financial support and even influences their views on foreign policy.

This shared identity, though often fragmented, is powerful. Even as these groups disagree on Iran’s past and future, they find common ground in their sense of loss, their sense of exile. This spontaneous sociology is not just an academic concept; it’s a reality that guides the community’s collective actions, shaping both its resilience and its divisions. Nostalgia, in this way, serves as both a source of strength and a reminder of the complex ties that bind the Iranian community together—ties that exist across continents, ideologies, and generations.

Redefining Diasporic Identity

For Iranians abroad, particularly those in France, nostalgia is both a personal memory and a shared experience, a thread that ties together their identities across generations. But as much as this longing for the past shapes their present, there’s also a growing awareness that it cannot fully define their future. Scholars have increasingly called for moving beyond the traditional diaspora framework, suggesting that viewing migrant communities solely through the lens of a nostalgic “lost homeland” is limiting. For these scholars, the Iranian diaspora represents more than an attachment to a single country or a single moment in time; it’s a dynamic, evolving community that continuously redefines itself.

The sociologist Thomas Faist argues that while diaspora studies have traditionally focused on distinct cultural practices and identities, transnational studies open up a broader view.^[13] This approach emphasizes the fluidity and interconnectedness of communities, seeing identity as a series of ongoing negotiations rather than a static state. It shifts the focus from roots to routes, emphasizing movement, adaptation, and the networks that form across borders. For the Iranian diaspora, this means acknowledging the memories that bind them while also embracing the new identities they create along the way.

In this redefined view, nostalgia remains, but it becomes just one part of the story. Iranians in France and around the world don’t simply live in the shadow of their memories; they engage with them, reinterpret them, and sometimes challenge them. By connecting to broader, transnational narratives, they find new ways to express their Iranian identity—one that respects the past but is not constrained by it.

Nostalgia and the Future

For many in the Iranian diaspora, especially in places like France, the past is both a source of identity and a wellspring of tension. This nostalgia—a longing for a homeland that may exist only in memory—shapes how Iranians abroad see themselves, each other, and the world around them. For left-leaning activists and conservative monarchists alike, this yearning connects them to an idealized Iran, though their visions often clash.

Yet, this nostalgia isn’t just about looking back. It’s also about the future. As generations grow and change, the Iranian community in France and beyond continues to redefine itself. Younger Iranians, born abroad or who left Iran at a young age, often feel a connection to an Iran they’ve only known through family stories, cultural centers, and community gatherings. For them, Iranian identity is not about a single, static image; it’s about exploring the rich and varied heritage they’ve inherited, finding their own ways to honor it, question it, and evolve it.

In the end, the Iranian diaspora in France stands as a testament to resilience, adaptation, and the power of memory. It’s a community that has weathered political upheavals, economic challenges, and cultural shifts, yet it endures, continually reshaping itself in response to the times. As they look to the future, Iranians in France carry with them a legacy of activism, intellectualism, and cultural pride—a legacy that bridges continents and connects generations. In this way, the Iranian diaspora embodies not just a journey of exile but a story of belonging, reimagined with each new chapter.