X
“In Iran They Call Me English and in England They Ask Me Where I’m From”: Navigating Identity and Belonging in Bea Dero’s Bound by Two Homes
What does it mean to belong to two places, yet fully to neither? For many growing up in the diaspora, this sense of in-betweenness—a constant balancing act between identities, languages and cultures—is part of everyday life. “In Iran they call me English and in England they ask me where I’m from,” says British-Iranian artist Bea…
How rage is reshaping Persian rap
What has long set Persian rap apart from other popular music scenes in Iran is not merely its sound or lyrical boldness, but a deeper, more ambitious undercurrent—a shared desire among its artists, producers, fans, and even digital platforms to be part of something far larger than themselves. This is a community with one eye…
AGA BIBI—Today this, tomorrow that
AGA BIBI is a fashion brand driven by the vision of Mehrnoush Shahhosseini—an architect, designer, storyteller and the creative team lead behind AGA BIBI. Born in 1973 in Tehran, she grew up as the youngest of a five-member family, with two older brothers. Her father was a university professor of literature and her mother was…

Nowruz family portraits from pre-70s

Before Instagram grids and family group chats, there were portraits like these. Taken during Norooz in Iran, sometime before the 1970s, this series of family photographs tells a quiet story of closeness, tradition, and joy. One family, many relatives, countless memories—captured in the soft tones of aging film.

The photos feel familiar even if you’ve never seen them before. Gathered around a haft-seen, dressed in freshly ironed clothes, generations stand (or squeeze) together in living rooms and gardens, their smiles caught just as someone counted to three. These weren’t professional shoots. They were rituals. A cousin with a camera. An aunt straightening a collar. A moment to hold onto.

What makes these portraits special is how effortlessly they carry emotion. You can sense the weight of time in each image—children leaning into grandparents, siblings lined up by height, someone always caught mid-laughter. In their quiet symmetry, they speak to a culture where family meant more than blood. It meant showing up, again and again, especially during Norooz.

Looking at these photos now is like time-traveling to a slower world. A world where connection didn’t need captions. Where one photograph could hold the energy of a full house, the scent of sabzi polo, and the buzz of a new year beginning.

In their stillness, these images remind us of something timeless: the beauty of being together. No filters. No edits. Just presence.

Categories: Culture
Tags: Nowruz
TPM Staff:
Related Post