Revolution Child

People often ask me from where I draw strength.  The answer is rooted in a simple truth -- I am the daughter of a revolution that my family and people never wanted.

I was born in Iran, a land of extraordinary culture, poetry and resilience. At eight years old and speaking only Farsi, I left everything I knew -- and eventually came to America with little more than hope, determination and a child’s belief that I was coming to a land where I was free to dream.

I didn’t know how my life would unfold in my new home. But I learned something profound: home is not always a place. Sometimes, home is the courage you carry within you or simply the memories you harbor. And often, home is the quiet belief that your story isn’t ending, it is just beginning.

Every challenge I have faced – the displacement, the uncertainty, the longing and transformation as a Western woman – have all found their way into my music. Much of the songs that I write carry fragments of my journey and honors those who have had to leave everything behind, either literally of figuratively, to begin anew.

In a sense, my music is my means to become a storyteller and a bridge between cultures. I very much want my songs to remind people that even in the darkest moments, human beings are capable of rebuilding their lives with grace, hope and courage.

I am proudly Persian. I am proudly American. I am proudly a refugee who was able to achieve inner revolution – the quiet transformation that happens when we face our pain, reclaim our voice and choose to rise again.

Choose to shine again. Own your light.