Marjane Satrapi’s masterpiece Persepolis transformed the world’s understanding of Iran

Marjane Satrapi, best known for her memoir and film Persepolis , has died, aged 56. The death of this much loved Iranian–French artist, graphic novelist, film-maker and activist has been met with widespread celebration of her life – and its dedication to resistance, freedom and humanity. French president Emmanuel Macron paid tribute to “a great artist who transformed an Iranian childhood into a universal fable”. Satrapi was born in Rasht (like my own mother) in 1969, then raised in Tehran. She came of age during the Iranian Revolution and the turbulent years that followed. As political repression intensified, members of her family and wider social circle were arrested, persecuted – and in some cases, executed, like her uncle Anoosh, a former political prisoner and exile, executed by the Islamic Republic. First published in 2000, Persepolis created a transformative shift in comics, memoir and political storytelling. Eventually extended into four volumes, it follows Satrapi’s childhood, her adolescence in Vienna (where her parents sent her to study in 1983) and her later struggle to navigate belonging between Iran and Europe. Satrapi returned to Tehran to attend university in 1989. In 1994, she moved back to Europe. Satrapi finished her studies in France, where she settled, gaining French nationality in 2006. Last year , she refused the France’s prestigious legion d'honneur, over its “hypocrisy” in its dealings with Iran. Satrapi illustrated the dislocations of revolution, migration, adolescence and return in such a way that her memoir travelled far beyond her home country. Through its deceptively simple black-and-white illustrations, Persepolis became globally influential because it offered an intimate account of revolutionary Iran and exile that challenged dominant stereotypes. For many readers, Satrapi is still the woman who explained Iran in the simplest, yet most powerful way. Growing up between worlds with Marjane Today, reading Persepolis with a cup of tea and a candle lit in Satrapi’s memory, I am struck by how little my reaction has changed since first watching the film at a university screening in France in 2019. Like Marjane, I grew up between worlds: the child of returnees in the early days of the revolution, a girl who wore the compulsory hijab, listened to Western music, argued with authority, fell in love, had her heart broken and dreamed of lives beyond the horizon. Later, I welcomed political activism, harassment, migration and multiple exiles into my life. Yet what made Persepolis so powerful was not that it reflected my experiences of repression, but that it captured everything beyond. Satrapi reminded the world that Iranians are not merely subjects of geopolitics or victims of authoritarianism. We have families, friendships, humour, terrible fashion choices, impossible romances and complicated identities. Like all great memoirs, Persepolis made the particular universal. It allowed readers to see themselves in an Iranian girl from Tehran. In doing so, it made it harder to deny our shared humanity. Her art has the kind of charm that allows everyone to see themselves in one corner of it or another. In Satrapi’s hands, exile was neither heroic nor tragic. It was disorienting, lonely, creative and politically productive. Her enduring legacy, however, lies not simply in what she told the world about the country she left behind, but in what she revealed about the experience of living between worlds as a human being. “I was a Westerner in Iran, an Iranian in the West. I had no identity.” Few lines from Persepolis capture the condition of exile more powerfully than this one. Reading Persepolis at different times of one’s life offers a language for contradictions that often feel impossible to explain: loving one’s country while criticising it, belonging to multiple places while feeling fully accepted by none, and carrying memories across borders that others struggle to understand. In telling her own story, Satrapi captured something far larger than herself. In her 56 years of life, she stayed true to herself and never forgot where she came from. Iran: misunderstood and dehumanised After the Islamic Revolution, the hostage crisis in the United States, the wars with Iraq and the emergence of a new world order after 9/11, Iran became a misunderstood country, its population dehumanised. Satrapi’s memoir restored its complexities and nuances to the imaginations of readers from different backgrounds. The power of Persepolis comes precisely from its ordinariness. Readers follow the life of a rebellious teenager. They learn about her family, grandparents, friends, teenage crushes, a failed marriage and the arguments that liven up any dinner table. Marjane’s story – garnished with music, humour and grief – reveals how extraordinary historical events are experienced through the mundane rhythms of everyday life.