The Lion Women of Tehran

“A bird from the fables. A bird from our ancient Persian Zoroastrian mythology. The homa bird never rests on the ground. They say this bird lives its entire life invisible above us all.”

The homa bird represents the culture and beliefs of ancient Persia, which is a motif throughout the novel, as Persian culture has helped form modern-day Iran. The bird also becomes a symbol for the character of Homa, as they share several qualities.

“From that very first visit, I wanted what Homa had. I wanted her family. Her living father, her kind mother. I wanted her fat, edible baby sister.”

Meeting Homa’s family is an ironic moment because Ellie’s mother has taught her to look down on those of Homa’s class. Instead, Ellie is jealous of Homa’s family and wishes she belonged in their home. This is the beginning of the jealousy that later plays a part in Ellie’s motivation when she unwittingly exposes Homa to the colonel.

“Shir zan. Lionesses. Us. Can’t you just see it, Ellie? Someday, you and me—we’ll do great things. We’ll live life for ourselves. And we will help others. We are cubs now, maybe. But we will grow to be lionesses. Strong women who make things happen.”

This line of dialogue captures Homa’s expressive voice and the energy and ambition of her character. Homa’s ideals and dedication provide a contrast and foil to Ellie’s wary, fearful reserve, while the symbol of the lioness provides the title for the book and the image that will guide Homa’s life.

“I was weak. Empty. I realized with each step back to my own house that I was leaving home. Their home.”

Parting with the family that nurtured and cared for her, as well as the friend she dreamed about, is a wrenching experience for young Ellie. This first break foreshadows both her later estrangement from Homa and future departures from home and family, which Ellie will experience alongside other characters whose lives are unsettled by the changing government in Iran.

“Like the embers of a fire, her words nestled into the crevices of my body. I internalized them and grew to believe that I needed to protect what was rightfully mine. Why shouldn’t I have it all? I deserved the best.”

Ellie’s mother counsels her to put herself and her interests first, and young Ellie takes this advice. This poses a direct opposition to Homa, with her wish to change the world. Homa’s wish to improve the world for all and Ellie’s wish to hold on to her own advantages are the chief character distinction between them. The analogy of the embers illustrates Kamali’s use of figurative language throughout.

“I melted into her all-familiar, unparalleled embrace. […] it was she, Homa. The girl who was always her full self without apology, without explanation, without shame.”

Ellie’s resistance to acknowledging Homa when she first arrives at her high school represents Ellie’s wish to deny that earlier part of her life and self. However, she soon reconciles with Homa and returns to the rhythms of their friendship, even though Homa’s sense of self, and her security in that self, provides a sharp contrast to Ellie, who values herself through the eyes of others.

“Every day in school we were told about the edge on which we sat. The edge of a cultural shift. Girls in a high school created so we could succeed. Girls in a generation with educational resources unprecedented in our country.”

Kamali emphasizes the possibilities and opportunities that Iranian girls and women enjoyed in the 1960s. This sets up a dramatic contrast with the way women’s rights are revoked and suppressed after the shah is toppled and the Islamic Republic forms.

“If any young woman in all of Iran could break the barriers and become a successful judge, it was Homa. She had strength. She had nerve […] she would save us all.”

This passage provides an example of a technique Kamali frequently employs, that of ironic contrast. While she uses foreshadowing throughout the book, in some cases, events turn out much different than predicted. Homa’s fate when she is arrested as a communist is one such example: It is a horrific and tragic subversion of Homa’s ambition to become a woman with the power to enact positive change.

“I sighed and wondered, not for the first time, how it might have been to have a mother […] who did not fuss over herself interminably. One who did not see the world as a place filled with vice and viciousness to be conquered.”

Ellie’s mother presents a contrast and foil to Ellie and often represents a model of womanhood Ellie does not admire. They prove to be similar, however, in their self-focused interest, a quality Ellie’s mother encourages her to cultivate. Self-preservation is of interest to all the novel’s women, but the theme of The Protectiveness of Mothers wanting the best for their children is exhibited by Ellie’s mother, as well as, later, Homa.

“The sound of laughter—youthful merriment from the belief that the world is set up for your amusement, your pleasure, your plans—carried into a new year on a wind so dry it almost crackled.”

This passage presents again the theme of youthful optimism, which is set up as a tragic contrast to the future that results for the characters in the novel. The image of the dry wind crackling, evoking harshness or fire, adds to the sense of dark foreshadowing.

“She is jealous of you! Why wouldn’t she be? You with that handsome Mehrdad on your arm! You with all this wealth. You with the beauty. Did it ever occur to you that she wants what you have?”

In an ironic turn, Ellie’s mother’s warning about Homa’s supposed jealousy echoes Ellie’s childhood jealousy of Homa’s home and family. The further irony is that Homa exhibits nothing but support and encouragement to Ellie, but at this point in the narrative, her mother’s warning sets Ellie up to misinterpret the exchange she sees between Mehrdad and Homa, which leads to a tragic plot point.

“When oh when oh when would I outgrow my worst trait: this insane jealousy? I was twenty years old, for the love of God. I was a third-year student at university. I wished I had better judgment in general. I wished the green-eyed monster didn’t so often get the better of me.”

After feeling hurt when she sees Mehrdad smiling at Homa in Sousan’s kitchen, Ellie realizes she overreacted and reflects on her tendency toward jealousy. This moment of quiet resolve to exert better judgment leads Ellie, ironically, to believe she is being mature by conversing with the colonel when he approaches her—which leads directly to her betrayal of Homa.

“Over and over again, I think: shir zan, shir zan, shir zan. I will be the lioness, I will be lionhearted. From me they will not mine one bit of information.”

Homa uses the image of the lioness to give herself the courage to resist interrogation in jail. Her refrain is an ironic reversal of the colonel’s use of the same term to draw information out of Ellie regarding Homa’s activities.

“At the age of twenty-two, I was the perfect bride, happy, standing next to her intelligent, accomplished, and handsome groom, the man I loved most of all because he was kind.”

At her wedding, Ellie enjoys living up to the image of the fantasy she has in her head, being who she has imagined she should be. At the same time, she recognizes that Mehrdad is a good man and loves him, proving that she is becoming able to appreciate people for their substance.

“We can’t control what fate plans for us. Can’t foresee it, can’t prevent it, cannot mold and alter it no matter how much we may wish.”

Where once the novel touched repeatedly on the optimism the young women had for their future, after Homa’s imprisonment and Ellie’s marriage, Ellie takes on this more fatalistic philosophy. Her personal heartbreak of not being able to bear children foreshadows Ellie’s later grief over the state of Iran after the shah is deposed.

“He destroyed my soul. But the voice tells me to reclaim myself. No one else will do it for me.”

Though Homa experiences trauma after being sexually assaulted in prison, she survives and eventually begins to recover. Her resilience and efforts to reclaim her identity show Homa’s strength of character as a shir zan.

“I am surprised by the force of my own fury, shocked at how the rage inside me, when activated, can cause great harm and also protect me. Protect my daughter.”

Homa feels like a lioness when she is involved in a women’s protest after the revolution and strikes a man who was attacking Bahar. The protectiveness of mothers toward their children is one of the qualities of the lion woman and a theme of the novel.

“I knew no one. I understood the language, yes, but I didn’t understand much else. I missed the familiar routines of home […]. I walked the streets like a ghost.”

Ellie’s loneliness and sense of isolation when she first moves to the United States echo the disconnect that Homa felt when she was first released from prison. Both women are facing a future they never imagined and are challenged to adapt.

“I harbored so much guilt over what I had said to the Colonel and how that had caused Homa to be arrested. I carried the guilt with me like a constant awful companion. But not once could I confide in my mother about this pain.”

When her mother visits her in New York, Ellie grapples with guilt as well as resentment over the mothering she wishes she’d had. The theme of the protectiveness of mothers returns shortly after this passage when Ellie’s mother confesses why she acted as she did.

“I don’t think you know what this country has become. We thought we got rid of one dictatorship, but we only got another.”

Homa’s bitterness in this reflection captures the sharp irony that the revolution in Iran did not achieve what most people had hoped for—a democracy and the removal of a tyrant who was abusing power. In contrast to the optimistic tone of the first half of the novel, the second has a more fatalistic tone as it reflects on recent events in Iran.

“This child—this teenager—who had been sent into my life for a short time had already lodged herself into my heart. No matter what happened, I would protect her.”

Ellie’s feelings toward Bahar are complex, bound up with her guilt, her affection for Homa, and her care for Bahar herself. Having Bahar with her is Ellie’s first experience of motherhood, and she is profoundly moved by the protectiveness she feels, evoking one of the book’s deeper themes.

“It’s the women who do the knotting. It’s women doing the weaving. The art of Iranian women is scattered throughout the world. Their work is everywhere.”

A motif of the book is the beauty and influence of Persian culture, which has persisted in Iran for millennia. Homa’s observation about how many other cultures prize the Persian rug made by Iranian women unites this motif with the theme of women’s independence and collective power.

“I loved my friend and would love her until the end of our days. I was done trying to compete with her, to be her, to forget her, to outdo her, to come to terms with her. She had given me a gift.”

When Ellie is finally able to confess her role in Homa’s arrest and ask forgiveness, the reconciliation is powerful and lances Ellie of the guilt, resentment, and envy that she has carried for years. Instead, she is left contemplating the purity of Homa’s gift and makes peace with the power of Homa’s friendship—a triumphant resolution to Ellie’s character arc and inner conflict throughout the novel.