With Western journalists confined to their hotels, the story could only be told by insiders like Tavakolian. A year earlier, she had photographed teen girls climbing a fence, clad in a hijab, sunglasses, and Adidas trainers on their way to a protest and understood the lengths she had to go. She scaled trees and pounded the streets, creating an epic portrait of solidarity in the face of state sanctioned violence. The Western media quickly took notice, propelling Tavakolian on the global stage with representation by Polaris Images, a New York photo agency, while continuing to live and work in Iran.
Over the next two decades, Tavakolian built a singular career covering conflicts across the Middle East. But after her father died prematurely in 2019, she stopped making photographs for nearly two years and returned to her archive in search of where it all began. It is here, in her new monograph And They Laughed at Me (Kehrer Verlag), that Tavakolian maps her path with the hard-won wisdom of one who has lived to tell the tale.
“For many years, I was curious to understand why I have such a melancholic eye, why I see the world the way I do, and why I am often drawn to stories that are complex and have no clear answers,” Tavakolian says. “Going back to the contact sheets helped me understand this. Looking at them frame by frame, I could follow the path my eye was taking as a teenager. What surprised me most was how consistent that gaze was. Even before I knew what kind of photographer I wanted to become, I was already drawn to moments of vulnerability, uncertainty, and quiet emotion. I realised that I was not looking for answers. I was looking for questions.”
