09/03/2026
What my Iranian student taught me about freedom while I was hiding in a shelter
I think I need to resign from International Women’s Day.
Apparently, my version of “female empowerment” includes arguing with a three-year-old in a bomb shelter about why we cannot bring the entire box of Duplo inside.
While my social feed was full of beautiful quotes about strong women, I was busy being the slightly unhinged mother negotiating snack logistics under sirens.
And somehow, in that strange moment sitting on the floor between toys, phone alerts, and a toddler who had very strong opinions about crackers, I thought about a student I once had.
Five years ago.
I barely remember her face.
But I will never forget her stories.
She was around sixty, and when she spoke about Tehran in 1976, her whole expression changed.
She described a city that doesn’t exist in today’s headlines.
Friends from different backgrounds going to parties together.
Weekends at concerts.
Ski trips in the mountains.
A mother who loved fashion.
A physics teacher who made her fall in love with science.
For her, the future once felt wide open.
Then the revolution came.
Her parents understood something was closing in.
So they did the unthinkable: they sent their teenage daughter alone to the United States.
Not for opportunity.
For freedom.
They wanted her to be able to read what she wanted.
Wear what she wanted.
Become who she wanted.
And as I sat there in my Tel Aviv shelter, something uncomfortable hit me.
I have a ten-minute warning.
I have concrete walls.
I have the Iron Dome.
I even have the luxury of being irritated by my child’s tantrum.
Women in Iran today don’t have any of that.
No Red Alert app.
No shelters.
No system designed to protect them.
Just a regime that polices their bodies, their voices, their existence and a war they never chose.
And suddenly the word freedom felt… different.
Less like a hashtag.
More like oxygen.
I don’t know what happened to that student’s family.
I hope they managed to leave.
I hope they are safe somewhere.
And I hope deeply that one day the women of Iran will again have something their parents once believed was possible:
a future that belongs to them.
I’ve been thinking about this all day. Do you ever stop and think about the freedoms you take for granted?