As Repression Lifts, More Iranians Change Their Sex
August 2, 2004
By NAZILA FATHI
TEHRAN, Aug. 1 - Everything about Amir appears masculine:
his broad chest, muscled arms, the dark full beard and deep
voice. But, in fact, Amir was a woman until four years ago,
when, at the age of 25, he underwent the first of a series
of operations that would change his life.
Since then he has had 20 surgical procedures and expects
another 4. And Amir, who as a woman was married twice to
men - his second husband helped with the transition and
remains a good friend - is now engaged to marry a woman.
"I love my life and I'm happy, as long as no one knows
about my past identity," said Amir, who asked that his full
name not be published. "No one has been more helpful than
the judge, who was a cleric and issued the permit for my
operation."
After decades of repression, the Islamic government is
recognizing that some people want to change their sex, and
allowing them to have operations and obtain new birth
certificates.
Before the Islamic Revolution in 1979, there was no
particular policy regarding transsexuals. Iranians with the
inclination, means and connections could obtain the
necessary medical treatment and new identity documents. The
new religious government, however, classed transsexuals and
transvestites with gays and lesbians, who were condemned by
Islam and faced the punishment of lashing under Iran's
penal code.
But these days, Iran's Muslim clerics, who dominate the
judiciary, are considerably better informed about
transsexuality. Some clerics now even recommend sex-change
operations to those who are troubled about their gender.
The issue was discussed at a conference in Tehran in June
that drew officials from other Persian Gulf countries.
One cleric, Muhammad Mehdi Kariminia, is writing his thesis
on transsexuality at the religious seminary of Qum.
"All the clerics and researchers at the seminary encouraged
me to work on the subject," he said in an interview. "They
said that my research can help change the social stigma
attached to these people and clarify religious decrees on
the matter."
One early campaigner for transsexual rights is Maryam
Hatoon Molkara, who was formerly a man known as Fereydoon.
Before the revolution, under the shah, he had longed to
become a woman but could not afford surgery. Furthermore,
he wanted religious guidance. In 1978, he wrote to
Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, who was to become the leader
of the revolution but was still in exile, explaining his
situation.
The ayatollah replied that his case was different from that
of a homosexual and therefore he had his blessing.
However, the revolution intervened and men like himself or
those who had already changed their sex were harassed, even
jailed and tortured. "They made me stop wearing women's
clothes, which I had worn for many years and was used to,"
Ms. Molkara recalled. "It was like torture for me. They
even made me take hormones to look like a man.''
It took him eight years after the revolution, in 1986, to
get government permission to proceed with surgery. But he
could not afford the surgery and did not have it until
1997, when he underwent a sex-change operation in Bangkok.
The Iranian government covered the expenses. Four years
ago, Ms. Molkara established an organization to help those
with gender-identity problems. Co-founders include Ali
Razini, head of the Special Court of Clergy, a branch of
the judiciary that only deals with clerics, and Zahra
Shojai, Iran's vice president for women's affairs. An
Islamic philanthropic group known as the Imam Khomeini
Charity Foundation has agreed to provide loans equivalent
to about $1,200 to help pay for sex-change surgery.
To obtain legal permission for sex-change operations and
new birth certificates, applicants must provide medical
proof of gender-identity disorder. The process can take
years.
It also involves considerable expense. In Tehran, the
initial male-to-female surgery runs about $4,000. So far,
Amir has spent $12,000 on medical procedures.
The people who pursue this route come from many different
backgrounds.
Dr. Bahram Mir-djalali, one of Tehran's few
sex-reassignment surgeons, said one of his patients had
been a member of the Revolutionary Guards who served five
years in the war with Iraq. His operation was paid for by a
Muslim cleric he had worked for as a secretary. After the
surgery, the man-turned-woman divorced, and then married
the cleric.
"When she came to see me years later, she was wearing a
chador," the doctor recalled, referring to the black
head-to-toe garb worn by religious women. "She took off the
chador, and there was no sign of the bearded man I had
operated on."
But many who cannot deal with the legal and financial
obstacles to a surgical solution have to deal with
humiliation in their daily lives.
One 27-year-old man said he ran away from home at the age
of 14 because he did not dare tell his family of his urge
to become a woman. He wants to be known as Susan and wears
women's clothes at home but only emerges dressed that way
at night. He says the constant need for secrecy has left
him severely depressed, and he has attempted suicide
several times.
"I have suffered all my life,'' he said, constantly
adjusting his long curly hair to cover his sideburns.
"People treat me as though I have come from Mars. Women
pull my hair and laugh at me on the street. Most men I am
attracted to reject me."
In a society where men enjoy a higher status than women,
the stigma against any man who wants to be a woman is
especially strong.
"They compliment a girl who behaves and dresses like a man
as a strong person, but they look down at us and despise
us," said Assal, who was disowned by her father for having
surgery to become a woman.
Dr. Mir-djalali said he had to fight on many fronts to help
more than 200 patients who had consulted him in the 12
years he had performed sex-change operations. Even if
Iran's Muslim clerics are more understanding now of
transsexuals' needs, others lag behind.
"We have a problem even deciding at which hospital to do
the surgery because society considers these people
deviant," he said. "Hospital officials have reacted
negatively because they say other patients do not like the
looks of my patients."
He said one patient's father pulled a knife on him in his
office, and threatened to kill him if he touched his son.
"What we really need to help these people,'' Dr.
Mir-djalali said, "is a serious cultural campaign."