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Experimental Futures
Professing Selves: Transsexuality and Same-Sex Desire in Contemporary Iran
Since the mid-1980s, the Islamic Republic of Iran has permitted and partially subsidized sex reassignment surgery. In Professing Selves, Afsaneh Najmabadi explores the meaning of transsexuality in contemporary Iran. Combining historical and ethnographic research, she describes how, in the postrevolutionary era, the domains of law, psychology and psychiatry, Islamic jurisprudence, and biomedicine became invested in distinguishing between the acceptable "true" transsexual and other categories of identification, notably the "true" homosexual, an unacceptable category of existence in Iran.
Najmabadi argues that this collaboration among medical authorities, specialized clerics, and state officials--which made transsexuality a legally tolerated, if not exactly celebrated, category of being--grew out of Iran's particular experience of Islamicized modernity. Paradoxically, state regulation has produced new spaces for non-normative living in Iran, since determining who is genuinely "trans" depends largely on the stories that people choose to tell, on the selves that they profess.
Najmabadi argues that this collaboration among medical authorities, specialized clerics, and state officials--which made transsexuality a legally tolerated, if not exactly celebrated, category of being--grew out of Iran's particular experience of Islamicized modernity. Paradoxically, state regulation has produced new spaces for non-normative living in Iran, since determining who is genuinely "trans" depends largely on the stories that people choose to tell, on the selves that they profess.
432 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2013
12 people are currently reading
616 people want to read
About the author
Afsaneh Najmabadi
15 books141 followersAfsāneh Najmābādi (Persian: افسانه نجم آبادی) (born 1946) is an Iranian-American historian and gender theorist. She is professor of History and of Studies of Women, Gender, and Sexuality at Harvard University. At present she chairs the Committee on Degrees in Studies of Women, Gender, and Sexuality. She is further Associate Editor of Encyclopaedia of Women and Islamic Cultures, in six volumes.
Afsaneh Najmabadi moved as student from University of Tehran to Radcliffe College in 1966. She obtained her BA in physics in 1968 from Radcliffe College, Harvard University, and her MA in physics in 1970 from Harvard University. Following this, she pursued social studies, combining academic interests with engagement in social activism, first in the United States of America and later in Iran. She obtained her PhD in sociology in 1984 from University of Manchester, United Kingdom.
Professor Najmabadi has been Nemazee Fellow at the Center for Middle Eastern Studies, Harvard University (1984–1985), Fellow at Pembroke Center for Teaching and Research on Women, Brown University (1988–1989), at Harvard Divinity School (Women's Studies in Religion Program) (1988–1989), at Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton University (1994–1995), and at the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, Harvard University (2000–2001). After nine years of teaching and research at the Department of Women's Studies of Barnard College, in July 2001 she joined Harvard University as Professor of History and of Women's Studies. Under her tenure as chair, the Committee on Degrees in Women's Studies changed its name to the Committee on Degrees in Studies of Women, Gender, and Sexuality.
Professor Najmabadi's most recent researches have been concerned with the study of the ways in which concepts and practices of sex and sexuality have transformed in Iran, from the late-nineteenth-century to the present-day Iran.
(from Wikipedia)
Afsaneh Najmabadi moved as student from University of Tehran to Radcliffe College in 1966. She obtained her BA in physics in 1968 from Radcliffe College, Harvard University, and her MA in physics in 1970 from Harvard University. Following this, she pursued social studies, combining academic interests with engagement in social activism, first in the United States of America and later in Iran. She obtained her PhD in sociology in 1984 from University of Manchester, United Kingdom.
Professor Najmabadi has been Nemazee Fellow at the Center for Middle Eastern Studies, Harvard University (1984–1985), Fellow at Pembroke Center for Teaching and Research on Women, Brown University (1988–1989), at Harvard Divinity School (Women's Studies in Religion Program) (1988–1989), at Institute for Advanced Study, Princeton University (1994–1995), and at the Radcliffe Institute for Advanced Study, Harvard University (2000–2001). After nine years of teaching and research at the Department of Women's Studies of Barnard College, in July 2001 she joined Harvard University as Professor of History and of Women's Studies. Under her tenure as chair, the Committee on Degrees in Women's Studies changed its name to the Committee on Degrees in Studies of Women, Gender, and Sexuality.
Professor Najmabadi's most recent researches have been concerned with the study of the ways in which concepts and practices of sex and sexuality have transformed in Iran, from the late-nineteenth-century to the present-day Iran.
(from Wikipedia)
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Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews
December 7, 2017
I cherish everything about this book. It's been written in a very interesting way and it mentions so many facts and documents. I highly recommend this book to anyone who is interested in LGBTQI situations in the Middle East and especially Iran.
January 15, 2021
A real and comprehensive report of issues and form of transsexuality in iran with appropriate opening by refering to Khomeinism!
March 12, 2025
This book is a must read for every queer person interested in history and most importantly, for every Iranian queer person. It begins by the history of queer people in Iran in the 19th and 20th century, lives of transgender and queer people in the pre-revolution era and it progresses to the modern era in the early 2000s. The book very beautifully shows how trans people went from being seen as "one of god's wonderful creations" to freaks after being interconnected with homosexuality due to religious reasons and how not having a safe space has changed the trajectory of life for many lgbtq people in Iran... years have passed from some of the narratives in this book. The new Iranian queer generation mostly has the acceptance of their peers from the same age group and can enjoy wlw edit pages, yet not even 10 years ago people barely even talked about queer rights in Iran and didn't even acknowledge their existence. We are not a "western invention" and we have existed since the beginning of time. Time for Iranian queers to be loud and proud
December 31, 2019
Afsaneh Najmabadi’s book, Professing Selves: Transsexuality and Same-Sex Desire in Contemporary Iran, explores transsexuality and non-heteronormativity in post-1979 Iran. Najmabadi bases her analyses and conclusions off of meticulous research in historical archives, legal and medical documents, magazines and newspapers, as well as participant observation and interviews with people associated to and within the trans community in Iran. Such comprehensive research and careful analysis has resulted in a marvelously insightful text that demonstrates the ability for needs to be achieved through a variety of means, be it secular or religious. Moreover, this book unsettles pervasive western notions of the supposed inherent and inseparable links between modernity, secularism and progress.
Professing Selves opens with the technicalities of how one can undergo a process, through medical and state institutions, of “filtering” in order to establish if one is “really trans” “really homosexual” or “suffers” from some other “psychological disorder” (3). It is only through this process that one can be certified to receive hormonal treatment, be exempted from the military, undergo SRS, officially change one’s gender on all identification papers, as well as other areas of financial assistance (including but not limited to housing aid and further health insurance) (20). It is at this early point in the book that a western reader may feel uncomfortable with the association of transsexuality with the word “disorder” (3). However, as this book will show, the ethics of such a distinction are beside the point. What is crucial to note is that this label carries with it creative possibilities to “live more livable lives in Iran” (12).
As a trained historian, Najmabadi proceeds into Chapter 2, 3, and 4, detailing the historical context that came to make “transsexuality a thinkable category in today’s Iran” (37). Throughout these chapters, Najmabadi highlights that transsexuality is nothing new to Iran and has, like in many societies, existed as long as there have been people in Iran. In recent history there have also been extensive debates about the differences between transsexuality and homosexuality among biomedical and psychiatric authorities, who generally tend to sharply distinguish the two. She goes on to give us a history of decades worth of newspapers, magazines and other forms of media that have extensively covered trans issues in Iran. Finally, she shows us the “relative acceptance” that “woman-presenting-males” had in 1970s Iran (6). In doing so, Najmbadi underscores the unique history of transsexuality in Iran.
In Chapter 5, we are introduced to the vast network of ways in which trans lives need to be articulated, justified and legitimized through legal, biomedical and psychiatric authorities. It is at this point where we learn about the “imbrication” of Islam, the State, and the biomedical complex in relation to certifying and legitimizing trans lives (171). It is understood by many practitioners that “transsexuals have a disparity between their body and soul.” In Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh), as many in Iran understand it, the body and soul must have the same gender. Though the soul cannot be changed, the gender of the body can. After establishing and certifying this disparity, one can undergo SRS in order to bring one’s body “in line with their soul” (182). The imbrications of “bio-psycho-medical discourse of sexuality [along] with legal-fiqhi requirements” sanction transsexuality to be legitimate (171). This, however, is sharply distinguished from homosexuality which remains deviant and unsanctioned by the state. It is also understood that one cannot profess this disparity or transsexuality alone. On the contrary, one can only seek legitimacy and recognition by working in concert with the state and all of its bureaucratic mechanisms. Indeed, it is dangerous to dress as a member of the “opposite sex” (191) without proper documentation—it could lead to arrest and humiliation. As Najmabadi states, “[o]ne cannot simply pronounce oneself trans; the truth of that designation depends on documented affirmation by some other-than-self authority” (166).
All of this documentation and legitimacy of transsexuality rests on an incredible fatwa issued by Ayatollah Khomeini in the mid-1980s. In it, Khomeini states “that changing sex with a doctor’s approval is not prohibited” (165). This fatwa has provided the trans community in Iran the most powerful level of support to seek benefits. A fatwa from someone as powerful and revered as Ayatollah Khomeini is something “that no doctor, and no lawmaker, would challenge” (29). Moreover, Najmabadi is sure to emphasize that this fatwa was not just issued out of nowhere or through philosophical ruminations in some “student-teacher exercise. … It was obtained by trans persons’ demand put on Iran’s supreme politico-religious authority” (166). In outlining this point, Najmabadi is showing the critical role that trans people have played in gaining their recognition. Additionally, it indicates a degree of openness in public discourse and accessibility to the highest echelons of power by those that are marginalized in society—something that one may not expect from a country like Iran.
This smoothly leads us into chapter 6 where we begin to see more of the ethnographic side of this book. Specifically, we follow a group of trans activists’ daily interactions with the state. Najmabadi airs her own uncertainties and discomfort with how easily these activists enter some of the highest offices in the government “—including the Office of the President and the Office of the Supreme Leader—to plead their case” (213). With “Ayatollah Khomeini’s fatwa on their side,” these activists feel a tremendous amount of confidence and safety in dealing with authorities to work out and fine tune how to make trans lives more livable (29). Fundamental to these interactions with the state is the framing of trans needs around “entitlements” rather than “rights” (213). This distinction makes up the core of chapter 6. These activists are adamant in ensuring that their work is not “politicized.” They emphasize that going to parliament or demanding rights on the street is a volatile process, “often with dubious results” (213). They already have Khomeini “on their side,” so their objective instead is to keep their dialogue and their goals sustainable by meeting with officials in order to dispel stereotypes about the trans community and normalize their lives. They are simply trying to make the process of certification more trans-friendly and seek solutions to their everyday problems. This, to them, is what it means to keep their work non-politicized. Ultimately, as Najmabadi shows, the ideal is to get enough entitlements and needs met so as to “disappear,” and become “indistinguishable” from cisgender males and females (225).
Indeed, as we see in chapter 7, to say cisgender or transsexual may be problematic in itself. For these words do not seem to fit with the language in which Najmabadi’s interlocutors are trying to articulate themselves. Najmabadi details this in two ways. First, many of those interviewed in this chapter explicitly state that they were born into the wrong body and are “really,” in fact, of the “opposite gender.” It is a fine distinction worth stating clearly. Many do not consider themselves to be transsexual male or a transsexual female; they just consider themselves to be either male or female (270).
Second, and most intriguingly, such terms are complicated further when we learn that gender identity and sexuality are performed by many in various divergent ways depending on the context. We are given the thought-provoking story of Leila and her girlfriend Minu. At times Leila dresses as a man, at other times she dresses as a woman (260). Occasionally she labels herself trans, occasionally she labels herself lesbian. When pressed by Najmabadi—who at this point is beginning to realize flaws in her methodology by asking people to strictly define their sexuality—Leila responds by saying that she is “perhaps 70 percent lesbian and 30 percent trans.” Najmabadi is stunned. Leila states that “this transsexuality business… is socially very useful” (264). She goes on to detail the tense relationship she has had with her mother over this. Frustrated with their fraught relationship, Leila eventually decided to “try a new tack” with her mother and tell her that she was transsexual. This made a significant difference for her mother, as Leila reflects: “[my mother] seems to have made her peace with it; maybe telling her I was transsexual was helpful” (264).
This point about a certain fluidity in identity is interrogated in chapter 8. Specifically, Najmabadi explores the various narratives that people hold and carve out for themselves. Through deep theoretical explorations, Najmabadi suggests that the self “does not lie in some inner deep, inaccessible place within one’s psyche,” but is enacted through bodily movements (to act as a man or a woman) at different times, in different social settings, that constitute the “self-in-conduct” (298). As one may have drawn from previous chapters, one adjusts and indexes their various modes of identification in order to live an “optimally livable life” (288). Certain identities are helpful depending on who you are interacting with. To relate it back to the text, one may say they are lesbian in one instance, while in other instances they may say that they are trans. And crucially, these narratives about one’s self are not produced after the fact, in reflection, but in “the present moment.” Najmabadi urges us to “move beyond thinking of narrativization as an act of making sense of lives already lived to what makes living lives possible” (280).
One is left feeling that this final analysis may have come a little too late in the book. We are led through seven chapters of the book unsure of what the appropriate labels are for some of Najmabadi’s interlocutors. Najmabadi herself, for instance, jumps between “trans people,” “transes,” “a trans,” “the trans community,” “MtF,” “FtM,’ as well as “trans and other nonheteronormative identified persons” (236). Yet, rarely does Najmabadi say “man” or “woman” as some of her interlocutors see themselves as being. Perhaps an earlier intervention by Najmabadi would have been helpful to frame how we approach this ethnography. Instead, we find ourselves attempting to recall everything we read before chapter 8 and reassessing it on this new theoretical framework.
Aside from this minor detail of organization, Najmabadi offers up a wonderfully rich book that provides important insights into the lives and modes of identification and becoming among a group of nonheteronormative people living in contemporary Iran. The broader merits of this text lie in its ability to signal to us how activism can take multiple forms, in addition to a humbling understanding of the violence done when one attempts to render an individual or a group’s identity as coherent. In doing so, Najmabadi has contributed to the chiseling away of sacred, largely western, notions of the true self that supposedly exists within us all in one coherent form.
Professing Selves opens with the technicalities of how one can undergo a process, through medical and state institutions, of “filtering” in order to establish if one is “really trans” “really homosexual” or “suffers” from some other “psychological disorder” (3). It is only through this process that one can be certified to receive hormonal treatment, be exempted from the military, undergo SRS, officially change one’s gender on all identification papers, as well as other areas of financial assistance (including but not limited to housing aid and further health insurance) (20). It is at this early point in the book that a western reader may feel uncomfortable with the association of transsexuality with the word “disorder” (3). However, as this book will show, the ethics of such a distinction are beside the point. What is crucial to note is that this label carries with it creative possibilities to “live more livable lives in Iran” (12).
As a trained historian, Najmabadi proceeds into Chapter 2, 3, and 4, detailing the historical context that came to make “transsexuality a thinkable category in today’s Iran” (37). Throughout these chapters, Najmabadi highlights that transsexuality is nothing new to Iran and has, like in many societies, existed as long as there have been people in Iran. In recent history there have also been extensive debates about the differences between transsexuality and homosexuality among biomedical and psychiatric authorities, who generally tend to sharply distinguish the two. She goes on to give us a history of decades worth of newspapers, magazines and other forms of media that have extensively covered trans issues in Iran. Finally, she shows us the “relative acceptance” that “woman-presenting-males” had in 1970s Iran (6). In doing so, Najmbadi underscores the unique history of transsexuality in Iran.
In Chapter 5, we are introduced to the vast network of ways in which trans lives need to be articulated, justified and legitimized through legal, biomedical and psychiatric authorities. It is at this point where we learn about the “imbrication” of Islam, the State, and the biomedical complex in relation to certifying and legitimizing trans lives (171). It is understood by many practitioners that “transsexuals have a disparity between their body and soul.” In Islamic jurisprudence (fiqh), as many in Iran understand it, the body and soul must have the same gender. Though the soul cannot be changed, the gender of the body can. After establishing and certifying this disparity, one can undergo SRS in order to bring one’s body “in line with their soul” (182). The imbrications of “bio-psycho-medical discourse of sexuality [along] with legal-fiqhi requirements” sanction transsexuality to be legitimate (171). This, however, is sharply distinguished from homosexuality which remains deviant and unsanctioned by the state. It is also understood that one cannot profess this disparity or transsexuality alone. On the contrary, one can only seek legitimacy and recognition by working in concert with the state and all of its bureaucratic mechanisms. Indeed, it is dangerous to dress as a member of the “opposite sex” (191) without proper documentation—it could lead to arrest and humiliation. As Najmabadi states, “[o]ne cannot simply pronounce oneself trans; the truth of that designation depends on documented affirmation by some other-than-self authority” (166).
All of this documentation and legitimacy of transsexuality rests on an incredible fatwa issued by Ayatollah Khomeini in the mid-1980s. In it, Khomeini states “that changing sex with a doctor’s approval is not prohibited” (165). This fatwa has provided the trans community in Iran the most powerful level of support to seek benefits. A fatwa from someone as powerful and revered as Ayatollah Khomeini is something “that no doctor, and no lawmaker, would challenge” (29). Moreover, Najmabadi is sure to emphasize that this fatwa was not just issued out of nowhere or through philosophical ruminations in some “student-teacher exercise. … It was obtained by trans persons’ demand put on Iran’s supreme politico-religious authority” (166). In outlining this point, Najmabadi is showing the critical role that trans people have played in gaining their recognition. Additionally, it indicates a degree of openness in public discourse and accessibility to the highest echelons of power by those that are marginalized in society—something that one may not expect from a country like Iran.
This smoothly leads us into chapter 6 where we begin to see more of the ethnographic side of this book. Specifically, we follow a group of trans activists’ daily interactions with the state. Najmabadi airs her own uncertainties and discomfort with how easily these activists enter some of the highest offices in the government “—including the Office of the President and the Office of the Supreme Leader—to plead their case” (213). With “Ayatollah Khomeini’s fatwa on their side,” these activists feel a tremendous amount of confidence and safety in dealing with authorities to work out and fine tune how to make trans lives more livable (29). Fundamental to these interactions with the state is the framing of trans needs around “entitlements” rather than “rights” (213). This distinction makes up the core of chapter 6. These activists are adamant in ensuring that their work is not “politicized.” They emphasize that going to parliament or demanding rights on the street is a volatile process, “often with dubious results” (213). They already have Khomeini “on their side,” so their objective instead is to keep their dialogue and their goals sustainable by meeting with officials in order to dispel stereotypes about the trans community and normalize their lives. They are simply trying to make the process of certification more trans-friendly and seek solutions to their everyday problems. This, to them, is what it means to keep their work non-politicized. Ultimately, as Najmabadi shows, the ideal is to get enough entitlements and needs met so as to “disappear,” and become “indistinguishable” from cisgender males and females (225).
Indeed, as we see in chapter 7, to say cisgender or transsexual may be problematic in itself. For these words do not seem to fit with the language in which Najmabadi’s interlocutors are trying to articulate themselves. Najmabadi details this in two ways. First, many of those interviewed in this chapter explicitly state that they were born into the wrong body and are “really,” in fact, of the “opposite gender.” It is a fine distinction worth stating clearly. Many do not consider themselves to be transsexual male or a transsexual female; they just consider themselves to be either male or female (270).
Second, and most intriguingly, such terms are complicated further when we learn that gender identity and sexuality are performed by many in various divergent ways depending on the context. We are given the thought-provoking story of Leila and her girlfriend Minu. At times Leila dresses as a man, at other times she dresses as a woman (260). Occasionally she labels herself trans, occasionally she labels herself lesbian. When pressed by Najmabadi—who at this point is beginning to realize flaws in her methodology by asking people to strictly define their sexuality—Leila responds by saying that she is “perhaps 70 percent lesbian and 30 percent trans.” Najmabadi is stunned. Leila states that “this transsexuality business… is socially very useful” (264). She goes on to detail the tense relationship she has had with her mother over this. Frustrated with their fraught relationship, Leila eventually decided to “try a new tack” with her mother and tell her that she was transsexual. This made a significant difference for her mother, as Leila reflects: “[my mother] seems to have made her peace with it; maybe telling her I was transsexual was helpful” (264).
This point about a certain fluidity in identity is interrogated in chapter 8. Specifically, Najmabadi explores the various narratives that people hold and carve out for themselves. Through deep theoretical explorations, Najmabadi suggests that the self “does not lie in some inner deep, inaccessible place within one’s psyche,” but is enacted through bodily movements (to act as a man or a woman) at different times, in different social settings, that constitute the “self-in-conduct” (298). As one may have drawn from previous chapters, one adjusts and indexes their various modes of identification in order to live an “optimally livable life” (288). Certain identities are helpful depending on who you are interacting with. To relate it back to the text, one may say they are lesbian in one instance, while in other instances they may say that they are trans. And crucially, these narratives about one’s self are not produced after the fact, in reflection, but in “the present moment.” Najmabadi urges us to “move beyond thinking of narrativization as an act of making sense of lives already lived to what makes living lives possible” (280).
One is left feeling that this final analysis may have come a little too late in the book. We are led through seven chapters of the book unsure of what the appropriate labels are for some of Najmabadi’s interlocutors. Najmabadi herself, for instance, jumps between “trans people,” “transes,” “a trans,” “the trans community,” “MtF,” “FtM,’ as well as “trans and other nonheteronormative identified persons” (236). Yet, rarely does Najmabadi say “man” or “woman” as some of her interlocutors see themselves as being. Perhaps an earlier intervention by Najmabadi would have been helpful to frame how we approach this ethnography. Instead, we find ourselves attempting to recall everything we read before chapter 8 and reassessing it on this new theoretical framework.
Aside from this minor detail of organization, Najmabadi offers up a wonderfully rich book that provides important insights into the lives and modes of identification and becoming among a group of nonheteronormative people living in contemporary Iran. The broader merits of this text lie in its ability to signal to us how activism can take multiple forms, in addition to a humbling understanding of the violence done when one attempts to render an individual or a group’s identity as coherent. In doing so, Najmabadi has contributed to the chiseling away of sacred, largely western, notions of the true self that supposedly exists within us all in one coherent form.
November 24, 2020
This is a great source to learn about the transgendered individuals' lives in iran. In term of methodology, the author did a great job in using variety sources, including, religious texts, medical and legal records, radio talks, newspapers, interviews, and personal notes. NajmAbadi defines the reality of living a trans life in Iran considering the political and cultural circumstances.
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June 28, 2021Very innovative topic, though I am curious who is the intended audience of this book. There are still many issues about the definitions that confuse to me; but I do not think I am that interested anyways... The obsession with a certain standard is very new and has not been the case before the rise of so-called biotech.
November 22, 2023
Excellent book that deploys a nice hybrid of archival and ethnographic methodologies to reconstruct queerness and transness in Iran. At times the book feels a bit disorganized, particularly in that it comes to some of its most important points a bit too late in the book, and the discussions of vernacular psychology feel a bit awkwardly placed. An excellent read nonetheless.
November 15, 2016
Najmabadi’s work provides an important voice to the discourse surrounding the lives and bodies of trans people. More importantly, Professing Selves points to the evolving modern subjectivity of the human experience. Rather than fitting nicely into the patriarchal, heteronormative matrix and experience of prevailing cultures, it provides evidence to an ever-changing world where the full expression of people cannot neatly fit into categories or sub-categories. Rather, the work of a scholar requires the close examination of the personal experience of marginalized persons to encounter an authentic glimpse into subjectivity. Such close examination reveals that classifying sexualities and gender identities in a structured binary matrix acts in opposition and limits social liberation and understanding. The work is an essential contribution to not only gender and sexuality studies in the Middle East and Islam, but also for any academic working within the sphere of queer and feminist theory, queer theology, religious studies, and anthropology.
June 25, 2014
gives a historiographic and ethnographic analysis to the formation of trans and homosexual subjectivities in contemporary Iran. Like usual Najmabadi weaves theory and narrative to captivate her readers
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October 5, 2015306.76809 N162 2014
March 27, 2017
Some of the language (surrounding the queer/trans communities) in this work is outdated, but that is to be expected due to the age of the research and date of publication. It is a really insightful ethnography driven by raw curiosity and a want for answers.
Displaying 1 - 11 of 11 reviews