Beyond #MeToo in Iran: change through informal feminist educational leadership

ABSTRACT

Women’s bodies in Iran have historically been used as a medium to operationalise social control and power. Since the 1979 Islamic revolution, this social control has tightened, manifesting within a misogynistic regime and patriarchal society where lack of legal protection and the culture of shame and silence suppress conversations on sexual harassment, with lack of sexuality education exacerbating the situation. In this context, those involved in the #MeToo movement stepped into an educational vacuum, providing crucial informal leadership around sexuality education, adding to, and building up to, other movements for women in Iran. In this paper, we discuss how informal leaders have used social media platforms such as Instagram and X (formerly Twitter) to help raise awareness of sexual harassment in Iran, help women find solidarity rather than shame, and create an educational platform for sexuality education. #MeToo was an important stepping stone for #feminism that is continuing to date.

KEYWORDS:

• #Metoo
• #Feminism
• Iran
• sexuality education
• policy
• social media

Introduction

In the complex socio-political context of Iran, women’s bodies have been instrumentalised and constrained as symbols of social control and power; the interplay between politics, religion, and culture have forged a society wherein women often find themselves at the intersection of theocratic governance and patriarchal norms (Mahdavi 2009). Since the drastic shift brought about by the 1979 Islamic reforms, social control in Iran has tightened, creating a suffocating environment for women (Amini and McCormack 2021; Zargarian 2019). Under the misogynistic regime, violence against women is perpetuated, yet often goes under reported due to lack of legal support and the culture of shame and silence (Zargarian 2019). Within this context, conversations about sexual harassment are often suppressed, which is further exacerbated by the absence of comprehensive sexuality education (Ebadijalal and Weisi 2021; Karimi-Malekabadi and Falahatpishe Baboli 2022; Zeighami et al. 2022).

Despite the societal constraints and barriers of fear and repression, the #MeToo movement gained momentum in 2020, breaking through the silence. In this paper, we explore the implications of this movement for informal leaders who have harnessed the power of social media platforms, particularly Instagram and X (formerly Twitter), to address the issue of sexual harassment in Iran. The feminist leaders and activists of women’s rights in and outside Iran have used these online spaces to raise awareness and to provide a platform for women to find solidarity instead of shame. Moreover, they have had a significant role in filling the void caused by the absence of comprehensive sexuality education, in effect, creating an alternative educational platform for women seeking to navigate the complexities of their bodies and relationships.

Over the past decade, social media has evolved into a battleground and sanctuary for women in Iran. The #MeToo movement, originating from a global movement against sexual harassment, has taken a character in Iran that diverges from the Western narrative, reflecting the complex interplay of culture, religion, and politics in this context. Reviewing both formal academic literature and informal social media posts and drawing on the first author’s lived experiences in Iran and engaging with Iranian social media, this paper ventures beyond the more common interpretations of #MeToo and its implications, outlining how social media has been harnessed as a powerful tool within this specific Iranian context. What sets this examination apart is the emphasis on the critical role of informal leadership in Iran where #MeToo lacked legal or social power to exercise pressure on the perpetrators (Rostampour 2023) or policy change. Iran is one of the three countries in the Middle East with the lowest level of legal protection for women (Friedland, Afary, and Hoppen 2023). Therefore, the implications of #MeToo are driven by individuals who passionately advocate for change. These informal leaders have played a vital role in reshaping the discourse surrounding sexual harassment. This paper explores the transformative role of informal leadership within and post #MeToo movement in Iran, shedding light on their pivotal role in challenging societal norms, breaking the chains of silence, and paving the way for a more equitable future for women in Iran.

Methodology

This is a critical review essay informed by our post-structuralist feminist theoretical framework outlined below. After presenting the historical context, we review the formal academic literature with references to informal social media posts, finishing with an argument about the significance of informal leadership spaces provided by online platforms.

The processes shaping this paper involved an exploration of the literature on Iranian #MeToo and online feminism as well as social media search for keywords/hashtags and educational pages. In our search for the main keywords #metoo, #metoo_movement, and #Iranian_metoo_movement # من _هم , we observed a lack of consistent terminology for Iranian #metoo and expanded the search to include more localised keywords:

#tajavoz تجاوز # (rape) چرا _گزارش _ندادم (why did I not report) #خشونت_علیه_زنان(violence against women) خشونت _جنسی# (sexual violence) قربانی _ نکوهی # (victim blaming). Searching was both in English and Farsi.

Following a thorough investigation of the online social media content and the literature, we created our initial themes. This process also helped identify the informal educational leaders and the content they shared on these platforms or content hosted on other platforms that they promoted through Instagram and X (formerly Twitter). The search process was limited to the time period from February 2023 to May 2024. The themes were formed and reformed in an iterative process of comparing the social media content with the literature available at the time of the study. For example, Silencing and Victim Blaming were rampant issues in the shared narratives and comments on social media and this was also a recurrent theme in the literature; therefore, it became a prominent theme in our study.

Throughout the process we drew on the first author’s knowledge and lived experience in the context of the study and the second author’s knowledge and experience as an outsider. The first author has had similar yet unique experiences in the study context, giving her an insider understanding of the experiences. Yet, she also considered herself an outsider as she has experienced living in Australia, a different context to the study. Throughout the process of this paper, both authors ensured that they were aware of their positioning, remaining curious, constantly reflecting and avoiding first impressions.

Theoretical framework

Drawing together insights from Friedland, Afary, and Hoppen (2023), Foucault (2009), Clark-Parsons (2016; 2021), and Blackmore (2006) helps shed light on the complex dynamics of informal feminist leadership within the context of Iran’s authoritarian regime. Friedland et al.’s (2023) discussion of gender-based violence in the Muslim Middle East unveils how Islamism institutionalises patriarchalism in the Iranian context. Foucault’s theories then help us picture how social control and power are operationalised through the regulation of women’s bodies within the socio-political context of Iran. In the Context section, we will discuss in detail how the Islamic regime in Iran has imposed strict laws to regulate women’s bodies as a means to enforce Islamic ideology and maintain control. Foucault’s (2009) ‘bio-power’ and ‘governmentality’ shed light on how the regime engages in disciplinary practices to manage women’s bodies within prescribed norms using legal, cultural, and social mechanisms. Given the legal and social barriers imposed, the informal feminist leaders shoulder the critical role of echoing voices (Hamidi 2023) as well as challenging the dominant discourse.

Clark-Parsons’ (2016; 2021) ideas on digital feminism are pivotal within this theoretical framework as they unveil the means by which women in Iran subvert the oppressive structures using digital platforms. Digital feminism as Clark-Parsons (2016) stipulates could help amplify voices and challenge the dominant discourse to bring positive change in society. Through such feminism, activists are able to make the personal political and bridge the individual experiences with the collective (Clark-Parsons 2021). Capitalising on social media platforms such as Instagram and X (formerly Twitter), informal leaders within the #MeToo movement have helped create a counter-discourse that challenges the control over women’s bodies, offering a space for women to voice their experiences, find solidarity, and engage in critical conversations that would otherwise be suppressed by the culture of shame and silence perpetuated by the government.

This paper explores how these informal feminist leaders have leveraged the digital sphere to educate on and raise awareness of the pervasive but underreported issue of sexual harassment in Iran. The digital sphere has emerged as a vital educational arena in a context where formal sexuality education is lacking. It unveils the transformative potential of digital feminism in dismantling oppressive structures and in amplifying marginalised voices against the mechanisms of social control.

Blackmore’s (2006) feminist perspective on educational leadership practices further enriches this framework by emphasising that leadership is not merely defined by formal job descriptions but is rather a ‘situated social, and political practice’ (195). From this viewpoint, leadership can be understood as a product of accumulated experiences and actions over time, by individuals who are ‘change agents’ (193). Applying Blackmore’s perspective to the Iranian context, it is evident that the informal feminist leaders within the #MeToo movement are the ‘change agents’ who challenge oppressive norms and practices around women and their bodies. These leaders do not conform to the traditional understandings of leadership ‘defined by job description’ and with the ‘leader/follower divide’ (Blackmore 2006, 193) but they embody leadership through advocacy for gender equality and sparking conversations on sexual harassment in Iran. Within this framework, the feminist leaders in digital spaces exemplify leadership as a transformative and situated practice (Blackmore 2006), by actively working to change oppressive structures, offering support, and educating women on gender and sexuality issues through online platforms. This framework forms the basis for a deeper understanding of the transformative potential of these informal feminist leaders in Iran.

The historical context of women’s bodies in Iran

Women’s bodies in Iran have historically been a battleground for social and political discourses. Particularly since the 1900s, a woman’s body has been used as a mechanism of power, to operationalise social control (Mahdavi 2009). As signifiers of national identity (Moghissi 2008), women have been the subject of social transformations for secular and Islamic regimes in the last two centuries. They were the target of modernisation reforms of the Pahlavi regime (1925–1979) for secularisation, modernisation and Westernisation, and the subject of Cultural Revolution of the Islamic regime (since 1979) to impose/establish their version of Islamic ideology (Keddie 2003; Najmabadi 1991; Rezai-Rashti 2015). Undergoing modernisation reforms under the Pahlavi regime in the early 1900s, women in Iran were forced to remove their hijab, and shortly after the Islamic revolution, in 1983, they were forced to wear hijab (Keddie 2003).

Following the establishment of the Islamic Regime in 1979, Iran transitioned into an era of religious and social conservatism that dictated body politics that widened the gender equality gap and relegated women to a subordinate position (Afary 2009; Amini and McCormack 2020). The Islamic regime condemned the pro-women changes from the Pahlavi era and deemed them as moral corruption and Western colonialism (Najmabadi 1991). In order to transform Iran into the Islamic state that the Islamic regime envisioned, women, their bodies, and their public and private presence had to transform (Moghaddam 2019). This shift from the Pahlavi regime’s modernisation to the Islamic regime’s ‘moral purification’ saw a huge regression in women’s status/rights. Women were defined as guardians of morality in society and in relation to their chastity and virginity (Afary 2009; Mahdavi 2009). This reduction of women to sexual commodities (Zargarian 2019), translated into restrictive rules on women’s status in general and appearance and public presence in particular (Keddie 2003; Moghissi 2008).

Hijab was made compulsory and enforced strictly (Najmabadi 1991); family protection law that gave women child custody was eliminated; women were banned from judiciary roles; discriminatory laws were introduced; and gender segregation was established at all levels of schooling and in most public spaces (Hoodfar and Sadr 2010; Najmabadi 1991; Rezai-Rashti 2015). In essence, the nation was divided into two classes, men and women, with women being the second-class citizens, highlighting different role relationships based on Islamic guidelines.

Control over women in contemporary Iran

In the prevalent misogynistic discourses established by the Islamic regime, women are often depicted as inherently deficient, subservient to men, and objectified bodies that are to be controlled and used for childbearing (Mahdavi 2009); the legal marriage age for women, for example, is 13. This inferior status and strict gender roles are reinforced in the regime-governed media (Kermani and Hooman 2022) and other channels.

In contemporary Iran, under the Islamic law, women are deprived of their most fundamental rights (Moghaddam 2019). Mandatory hijab is but one of the deprivations of rights, used as the regime’s ideological strategy to politicise women’s bodies (Kermani and Hooman 2022). Since women’s bodies and sexuality are tied to the national identity and the moral health of society (Amini and McCormack 2021), the state and men’s control over women’s bodies and sexuality is seen to be justified. Such extreme control governs both private and public aspects of women’s lives.

In public, women are responsible for the moral health of society; using bio-power, the regime controls women’s bodies and behaviour in the streets (Friedland, Afary, and Hoppen 2023). Hijab is used as what Foucault (2009) would regard ‘a mechanism of power’, which in this case is a stark breach of the right to bodily autonomy. This law is rooted in inequality, and those who do not meet the dress code are treated as criminals and arrested by the morality police. The tragic incident exemplifying this occurred in 2022 when Mahsa (Jina) Amini was arrested, severely beaten, and died in custody for not having proper hijab (Basmechi 2023). Public spaces are also gender segregated so that women do not ‘pollute’ society (Amini and McCormack 2021; Zargarian 2019). Moreover, women’s physical movement is restricted; for example, women need permission from their father (if single) or their husband (if married), to study, work, own a passport, or leave the country. The law on abortion and contraception also manifests control over women’s bodies, exacting ‘bio-power’ (Foucault 2009); abortion is illegal except for life-threatening medical issues and access to free contraception and protection is difficult (Amini and McCormack 2021; Sheikhansari, Abraham, and Denford 2021).

In private, the promoted misogynistic discourse manifests in honour culture. Women are depicted as the core of the family, often referred to as a sacred entity, and are thus responsible for the moral health of family and society; they are pushed into the margins by mechanisms that control their appearance and behaviour. Qeirat, for example, is promoted as an admirable moral discipline for men in Iran that involves guarding and protecting women (Karimi-Malekabadi and Falahatpishe Baboli 2022). Men showing Qeirat are responsible for, and therefore, control the bodies, actions and sexuality of their wife, sisters, and mother. Should women fail to abide by these expectations, they could face stricter consequences, including increased control, and in more serious cases, even honour killing (Karimi-Malekabadi and Falahatpishe Baboli 2022).

A complement to Qeirat in men is Haya in women. Haya is a collection of religious and cultural values that promote modesty, religiosity, and submissiveness (Tamkin) in women (Babakhani and Miller 2022). Women adhering to Haya codes, shy away from behaviours that might make them visible or draw attention, and in the sexual context, behaviours that could be interpreted as promiscuous. Virginity becomes a control mechanism (Foucault 2009), the physical norm for unmarried women and something to be protected at all costs (Zargarian 2019). Unmarried women’s virginity is directly related to the family honour; hence many women undergo tests to prove their virginity before the wedding. Good women submit (Tamkin) to their husband’s wishes and sexual pleasure (Amini and McCormack 2021). This submissiveness is a legal obligation for women (Babakhani and Miller 2022) even when it is against their will; family rape is not illegal by law.

Silencing of women

The amalgam of controlling law, and honour codes like Qeirat and Haya, have led to a culture of shame dominating the discourse (Amini and McCormack 2021; Zargarian 2019; Zeighami et al. 2022). Violence against women in patriarchal societies such as Iran does not occur in isolation; such violence is fed by the historical and contemporary context and is interwoven into that context. Studies (Kearns, D'Inverno, and Reidy 2020; LeSuer 2022) reveal that in societies with higher levels of gender inequality, there are higher levels of violence against women. Not only is violence against women tolerated in Iran, but aggression against women is also legitimised through gender-based norms, values, media, and laws (Ebadijalal and Weisi 2021; Karimi-Malekabadi and Falahatpishe Baboli 2022). Violent actions by men abusers are condoned – both directly and indirectly. For example, the media tends to promote men’s control over women’s bodies and romanticises violence against women (Forough School 2022).

Added to this condoning of violence is the lack of legal protection for women who experience violence in general, and sexual violence in particular (Mahdavi 2009). The law controls rather than protects women (Zargarian 2019). Sex outside of marriage is criminalised in Iran so concealing it is often a strategy to get away from social and legal consequences (Zargarian 2019); women are unlikely to report sexual violence despite its prevalence (Hamidi 2023; Zeighami et al. 2022).

Men and women are not treated equally in the provision of blame and shame. As discussed above, cultural values such as Qeirat and Haya encourage over-protectiveness in men and modesty in women (Karimi-Malekabadi and Falahatpishe Baboli 2022). Thus, if a man is found to have assaulted a woman, the woman is likely to be blamed for being immodest; the responsibility of the harassment lies with women (Ebadijalal and Weisi 2021; Karimi-Malekabadi and Falahatpishe Baboli 2022). Both men and women, writ large, blame the women victims (Ebadijalal and Weisi 2021; Karimi-Malekabadi and Falahatpishe Baboli 2022); a woman’s family is likely to blame the victim (Zeighami et al. 2022); and a woman is likely to blame herself (Zeighami et al. 2022). Most women have internalised these gender norms of shame, pollution, and stigma, and silence around their bodies and sexuality that discourages them from exercising body autonomy or to share experiences of violence (Foucault 2009). Thus, the fear of this all-encompassing external and internalised shame is enough to silence many women who have been assaulted (Joshan 2024).

Beyond the shame, women victims are also silent because there are few places to go with their stories. If the sexual assault happened at the workplace, Zeighami et al. (2022) names the multiple barriers to reporting: being unaware of the complaint process; lack of institutional support; lack of legal support; potential consequences such as losing their employment. The legal barriers, of course, extend beyond the workplace: there is a lack of supportive legislation and lack of supportive authorities (Kermani and Hooman 2022; Zeighami et al. 2022).

Finally, some women choose to not report sexual assaults as a calculated choice. Some fear that reporting might lead to additional confinements from family members (Zeighami et al. 2022) or that breaking the silence would trigger the Qeirat and bring about more restrictions and control over women (Karimi-Malekabadi and Falahatpishe Baboli 2022; Zeighami et al. 2022). Roudsari et al. (2013) reported that social stigma and fear of negative consequences were among the barriers to using sexual health services among students and their mothers. Another reason for silence and one of the causes of sexual abuse is poor sexual health knowledge.

Sexuality education and construction of Islamic subjects

Despite the importance of sexual health knowledge for stopping abuse and reporting it, studies show that people in Iran have poor sexual knowledge (Amini and McCormack 2021; Jamali et al. 2020; Khalesi, Simbar, and Azin 2017; Mahdavi 2009). This is mainly due to lack of formal education, but also to policy, cultural and religious barriers to sexuality education (Khalesi, Simbar, and Azin 2017). The purpose of education under the Islamic regime is forging Islamic subjects; as a cultural norm, many teachers and parents associate sexuality education with early sexual activity (Roudsari et al. 2013; Tabatabaie 2015; Zarrinnegar 2022); many families also shy away from discussing sexual topics with their children (Khalesi, Simbar, and Azin 2017; Roudsari et al. 2013).

Under the Islamic regime, premarital sex is illegal and sexuality and sexual discourse is stigmatised (Mahdavi 2009; Roudsari et al. 2013). Therefore, educational information on sexual health and the risks involved is hard to access and strictly limited to legally married couples (Mahdavi 2009; Roudsari et al. 2013; Sheikhansari, Abraham, and Denford 2021; Zargarian 2019). Under the premarital training plan, couples attend a short information session before marriage that prepares them for family planning that is limited in content and does not address relationship aspects of sexuality education (Khalesi, Simbar, and Azin 2017).

Sexual health education vs creating Islamic subjects

There is no Comprehensive Sexual Health Education (CSE) in Iran (Khalesi, Simbar, and Azin 2017). According to World Health Organisation (WHO 2023), CSE ‘gives young people accurate, age-appropriate information about sexuality and their sexual and reproductive health’ and includes topics like ‘families and relationships; respect, consent and bodily autonomy; anatomy, puberty and menstruation; contraception and pregnancy; and sexually transmitted infections, including HIV.’ Sexuality education is directly associated with abuse prevention, by providing young people information about their rights and acceptable behaviour and improves their ability to react, stop, and seek help if subject to abuse (WHO 2023).

Comprehensive Sexual Health Education pushes against the established norms and legal constraints in Iran; therefore, educational institutions avoid sexuality education programmes (Sheikhansari, Abraham, and Denford 2021). The purpose of education is constructing Islamic subjects; key messages emphasise abstinence and seek to increase the population (Naeimi and Kjaran 2022). Therefore, there is a lack of policy, advocacy and legal support for sexual health education (Khalesi, Simbar, and Azin 2017; Roudsari et al. 2013). Moreover, following policies aimed at increasing the population, sexual health centres promote having more children, and offer very limited information only to married couples (Sheikhansari, Abraham, and Denford 2021).

Sexuality education at schools and universities

Despite the risks associated with poor sexual knowledge, there is no formal sexuality education at primary and secondary schools in Iran (Jamali et al. 2020; Khalesi, Simbar, and Azin 2017; Sheikhansari, Abraham, and Denford 2021); policy makers associate sexuality education with early sexual activity and ruining childhood innocence (Roudsari et al. 2013; Zarrinnegar 2022); the students at schools should not be ‘sexually awakened as their Western peers’ (Tabatabaie 2015, 213). The assumption is that students are asexual, do not have the capacity to think for themselves (or act with autonomy), and sexuality education would lead to sexual activity (Roudsari et al. 2013; Tabatabaie 2015; Zarrinnegar 2022).

Some schools invite external officials to teach body shaming to women and abstinence as the preferred approach to sex (Amini and McCormack 2021). A few schools have incorporated sexuality education into their programme that is based on the Islamic model whereby the ideal subject remains asexual from birth to puberty, is educated on the Islamic implications of puberty and remains non-sexual until marriage (Tabatabaie 2015). This model does not acknowledge the existence of issues around sex for young people and avoids topics such as sexual abuse (Sheikhansari, Abraham, and Denford 2021; Tabatabaie 2015).

There is also limited sexual health education provided at universities in Iran (Sheikhansari, Abraham, and Denford 2021). Many universities offer a general unit ‘Family Planning and Population’ that runs for 1 h every week for a semester (20 h in total) and is taught by a specialist in religious and spiritual studies (Sheikhansari, Abraham, and Denford 2021). As the name suggests, the aim of this unit is to educate university students about family planning and promote having children. In some universities, there may be information sessions on sexually transmitted diseases that encourage abstinence as the best practice (Najarkolaei et al. 2013).

Informal sources of information

Due to this lack of educational information on sexual health, particularly for unmarried couples (Mahdavi 2009; Roudsari et al. 2013; Sheikhansari, Abraham, and Denford 2021; Zargarian 2019), many youths turn to other informal sources of information (Khalesi, Simbar, and Azin 2017; Sheikhansari, Abraham, and Denford 2021; Tabatabaie 2015). In Iran today, the internet and social media are the main sources of sexual information (Jamali et al. 2020; Roudsari et al. 2013). Studies show that the younger generation have more sexual information compared to the older generation and associate this with access to the internet and social media (Amini and McCormack 2021). Social media as informal sources of sexual health information is vast and protects the users’ privacy which is crucial with taboo topics (Sheikhansari, Abraham, and Denford 2021; Zand 2013). There are numerous sources of information and educational programmes on social media that have been created by activists and feminist educational leaders to promote awareness and sexuality education particularly for women (see for example, Zand 2013). With lack of policy and support from the state, as Sheikhansari et al.’s (2021) participants put it ‘society is helping itself with no official support’ (4).

Social media and cyberfeminism in Iran

As mentioned above, due to the lack of information – and/or the ideologically framed information – available through official sources, many people turn to alternative sources (Jamali et al. 2020; Zand 2013). Yet, it is not only health and sexual information that people – particularly women – are looking for. The internet can also be a source of validation, connection and organisation against the regime's forced agenda.

By providing an alternative space for women, the Internet has been working as an informal emancipatory educational tool for Iranian women. When blogs were first launched in Iran in 2001, young women started using them to express themselves (Gishnizjani 2023). Such modes allowed them to transgress boundaries and talk about taboo topics such as their bodies, sex and sexuality (Amir-Ebrahimi 2008; Zand 2010). Conversations on these weblogs fell outside of the established norms and Islamic law (Zand 2010). Women used technology to access information and knowledge that is otherwise limited, and this then helped women’s voices reach beyond the traditional censored media that depicts women as second class citizens (Amir-Ebrahimi 2008; Foomani 2021; Mohammadi 2007; Zand 2010).

Women in Iran have always found ways to resist the oppressive system and relationships. Online activism is one of the strategies they use to push back against the systemic gender discrimination (Moghaddam 2019; Zargarian 2019). This type of activism is not unique to Iran; internationally, social media platforms, for example, Twitter, have helped women fight gender inequality (Clark-Parsons 2021; Sarrats 2022; Şener 2021). Hashtag feminism (Kermani and Hooman 2022), online activism where the hashtag feature is used to collate and document feminist discourse (Clark-Parsons 2016), has been used to mediate oppressive discourses produced by mainstream sources. Although sometimes referred to as ‘slacktivism’ in countries where women have other options, hashtag feminism, in a non-democratic context like Iran is one of the only ways to resist (Amir-Ebrahimi 2008; Clark-Parsons 2016; Kermani and Hooman 2022).

In Iran, there have been numerous hashtag movements: #mystealthyfreedom (2014); #whitewednesdays (2017); and #girlsofenghelabstreet (2017). With these movements, women documented fights for their body autonomy against the forced wearing of the hijab. These online spaces have equipped women who live in and outside Iran to question the bio-power exerted by the Islamic regime (Foucault 2009) and the patriarchalism that follows Islamism at an institutionalised level (Friedland, Afary, and Hoppen 2023).

Inspired by the international #MeToo movement, thousands of Iranian women used the hashtags #MeToo and #Tajavoz (literally translated as #rape and known as the Iranian #MeToo) to reach a historic turning point in August 2020 (Basmechi 2023; Fassihi 2021; Kermani and Hooman 2022). #Tajavoz (#تجاوز) is a more local version of the #MeToo movement in Iran that is still used alongside #MeToo to speak about sexual assault experiences. The contributors to this movement are everyday activists who shared ‘personal experiences in a mundane environment that is sporadic yet collective’ (Gishnizjani 2023, 108).

Unlike the other online movements that had leaders and a centralised structure, #MeToo and #Tajavoz were collective efforts with an unprecedented scale and reach. #MeToo or #tajavoz took digital activism in Iran to another level, by focusing on not only resistance to one policy, but acknowledgement of the historical and systemic gender inequality and resistance to misogynistic views/culture (Kermani and Hooman 2022). The movement served as a venue that helped to bring these taboo topics to the centre of the discussion (Joshan 2024).

Empowering connections: the transformative role of social media platforms

Social media platforms have helped Iranian women in their online movements over the last two decades. Following the #MeToo (#tajavoz) movement, social media platforms have played a transformative role in empowering women and advancing feminist educational leaders’ causes. They have provided a space for sharing opposing narratives, have helped raise awareness and reconstruct societal norms, have functioned as educational platforms as well as platforms to foster solidarity, and finally have played a crucial role in resisting the oppressive regime and advocating for policy and regime change (Amir-Ebrahimi 2008).

Spaces to break the silence

Social media platforms have provided a safe space for women in Iran to freely share their experiences of sexual assault in a public space free from shame and restrictive law. In a context where saying #MeToo could act against the victim and lead to harsh consequences including a death sentence if married, Iranian activists in online spaces have played a critical role in echoing the victims’ voices, offering them justice or at least protection from consequences of sharing stories (Hamidi 2023). Iranian women had previously used the internet and blogs to share their stories that defied conventional norms of femininity (Zand 2010). Following the #MeToo movement, the stories were shared more openly and on a much larger scale (Basmechi 2023; Kermani and Hooman 2022). The anonymity offered by social media has facilitated breaking of the culture of shame and silence and helped amplify women’s voices to a broader public audience (Hamidi 2023; Zand 2010), with more and more women feeling empowered to share their stories over time.

Platforms for finding solidarity and raising awareness

These online narratives have fostered a sense of solidarity among women; for victims, it has showed them that they were not alone but rather part of a broad social issue; out of the 870 tweets analysed by Rezai and Sedaghat Payam (2023) the biggest category (247 tweets) was ‘support’ or showing solidarity in various ways. For the audience, learning about the experiences has helped break away from the ‘women against women’ narrative promoted by the state (Zargarian 2019) and prevalent in patriarchal contexts. Even though women have not been able to involve men in #MeToo in Iran in a real sense, they have achieved a ‘feminist solidarity’ against the domination of masculine hegemony (Rostampour 2023). The patriarchal culture and the state’s agents still dominate the digital space, and victim blaming remains prevalent (Ebadijalal and Weisi 2021; Rezai and Sedaghat Payam 2023), but society seems increasingly ready to listen to these stories (Basmechi 2023). The increased sharing of these stories has created the opportunity for women to form communities of support based on shared experiences and under a common cause.

With the #MeToo movement gaining momentum on social media, it has functioned as a powerful tool for raising awareness about sexual harassment and the norms that promote violence against women (Basmechi 2023; Rostampour 2023). The sharing of stories has opened up opportunities to question toxic values such as Qeirat and Haya that underlie victim blaming and deem female sexual victims as ‘the other’ (Ebadijalal and Weisi 2021; Karimi-Malekabadi and Falahatpishe Baboli 2022). The self-narration and self-disclosure has shed light on the misogynistic law and patriarchal norms for women (Amir-Ebrahimi 2008) and has encouraged changing stereotypical definitions (Rostampour 2023) and deconstruction of norms. Speaking out about the experiences has also led to a greater understanding of sexual assault and harassment that are often censored in national media (Basmechi 2023). #MeToo on social platforms has promoted extensive public discussions on issues around sexual harassment such as consent and gender equality. #MeToo developed into the new themes #nomeansno and #notorape (Basmechi 2023) indicating the need for CSE and transformation of the systemic misogynistic discourse promoted by the Islamic regime (Kermani and Hooman 2022).

As an educational platform

After the #MeToo movement raised awareness on sexual harassment, numerous Iranian feminist leaders residing overseas seized the opportunity to use social media platforms such as Instagram as informal educational platforms. A remarkable proportion of tweets (around 25%), as noted by Rezai and Sedaghat Payam (2023) was educational content; this includes general topics such as ‘how to talk about sexual assault’ and survivor specific topics such as ‘how to report’. Women’s rights activists have also used these informal platforms to share periodic educational content on various topics related to gender norms such as sexual violence, consent, rights and bodily autonomy (Jamali et al. 2020; Rezai and Sedaghat Payam 2023) as well as topics such as the historical roots of oppression, the patriarchal system and the misogynistic law (Rezai and Sedaghat Payam 2023). Through educational posts, slideshows, stories, and videos on Instagram for example, accounts such as @me_too_movement_Iran and individual activists such as Samaneh Savadi, Najmeh Vahedi, and other feminist leaders, have helped educate people, especially women, on relationship skills that are not addressed in the formal education system, and that is reportedly one of the main barriers to sexual assault prevention and reporting (Joshan 2024).

Several more formal courses and programmes have also been developed by feminist leaders to educate women on workplace sexual harassment (e.g. @Cheragh.academy), teach them about gendered and social violence and bodily autonomy (e.g. @ForoughSchool), as well as addressing gender equality and misogynist norms (e.g. @Sharan.zanan). The educational content of these initiatives covers topics ranging from the vulnerability of ‘good women’ (a cultural concept that restricts women’s appearance, behaviour, and actions) to sexual violence, to empowering women to exercise bodily autonomy, all absent themes in the formal education.

Discussion: informal leadership and informal policy

As can be seen from the discussion on the educative role of social media, education cannot be narrowly equated with schooling. Education involves all manner of formal and informal institutions, sites and practices (Apple et al. 2022). A recent project on how education can help us to live well and create a world worth living in for all (Reimer et al. 2023) draws on the German concept bildung to broaden understandings of education. As Kaukko, Windsor, and Reimer (2023) explain, with bildung, education is viewed as a ‘process in which an individual acquires the needed skills and knowledge for individual growth and character formation (on an individual level) while also learning to be an active and critical member of their community (the social level)’ (5). This process of learning might happen in formal educational settings; however, it is equally likely for such learning to take place in families, on the street, and on X (formerly Twitter). Both formal and informal educational sites have the potential to ‘foster a collective commitment to the common good, to a shared understanding of what it means to live and thrive within communities’ (Aly et al. 2022, 358).

When formal education does not meet the needs of young people – in assisting in their individual formation and helping to create thriving communities – informal education takes on a more prominent role. Henry Giroux acknowledges the need to take seriously multiple educational sites, specifically naming the Internet and social media, as ‘incredible forces in shaping world views, modes of agency, and diverse forms of identification’ (Apple et al. 2022, 255). In the educational vacuum created in Iran around sexuality education, the Internet and social media have become both the main sources of sexuality education and platforms for fighting gender inequality (Jamali et al. 2020; Moghaddam 2019; Zargarian 2019).

As the definition of what is education broadens, so too must definitions of educational leadership and educational policy. It is not helpful to draw on models of formal educational leaders within mainstream schooling systems to understand the concept of informal educational leadership within the #MeToo movement in Iran. More constructive is to turn to Jill Blackmore’s (2006) use of a feminist perspective to explore alternative conceptualisations of educational practices of leading. From a feminist perspective, leadership is ‘a situated social and political practice, a habitus produced over time and not merely equated to position’ (Blackmore 2006, 195). Blackmore (2006) reveals that feminists have rarely viewed leadership as a job description, rather recognising people who are ‘change agents’ (193) as leaders. Blackmore (2006), looking mostly at the feminist movement in North America, the UK and Australia, describes how, in the 1970s, feminists who were working ‘strategically for gender equity in social movements, community organisations and teacher unions’ (192) were the ones who were identified as educational and policy leaders. Such movements were seen as fertile ‘training ground’ for leadership in policy creation (Blackmore 2006, 193). This observation is profound as it is now the feminists in Iran, working strategically for gender equity, that are emerging as the alternative educational and policy leaders.

Clark-Parsons (2021) provides a look at feminist activist and alternative leadership within the online space. She explored networked feminist activism around #MeToo and found that such #hashtag movements allow activists to ‘bridge two levels of visibility – the individual and the collective—in order to make the personal political and advance new interpretations of everyday experiences of oppression’ (368). It is precisely these ‘new interpretations’ of everyday gendered experiences and violence that the networked feminist informal leaders in Iran were influencing and creating.

Importantly, the current and emerging educational leaders in Iran will ‘do’ leadership in a way that is right for their context and their time. Writing about school leadership – but equally true of informal educational leadership – Bogotch (2017) states that ‘leadership is cultural and contextual which is to say local, yet influenced by global forces’ (237). Bogotch (2017) reminds us that every global phenomenon (such as #MeToo) is also a local experience. Opening space for an educational response, as part of #MeToo, will look and feel very different in Iran, than it will in more officially democratic countries.

Resisting the oppressive regime and push for policy/regime change

The image the Islamic regime sends out to the world of Iranian women is that of oppressed women wrapped up in hijab (Amir-Ebrahimi 2008); while the institutionalised Islamism promotes patriarchalism (Friedland, Afary, and Hoppen 2023) and permeates misogynistic Islamic law that disadvantages women in Iran, these women have been resisting the imposed law and patriarchal norms over decades, in different capacities and using various resources of power available to them, such as education, financial independence, and English language (Foomani 2021).

Some sources report that under the Islamic regime, women have achieved considerable attainments in their education and academic performance (Mehran, 2003); these and other reports have been used as another form of attempted disciplinary practice (Foucault 2009) meant to contain and restrain women’s bodies to fit the regime’s notion of success. However, there is no evidence supporting promotion of gender equality under the Islamic regime (Rezai-Rashti 2015). The reality is Iranian women have taken the lead and thrived despite – not because of – the misogynistic law and discourse.

Today, women in Iran enjoy a higher rate of education than men, and are present in all public spaces, in educational settings, workplaces, and cyberspace (Amir-Ebrahimi 2008) and have turned into active agents of change. They are the informal educational leaders working for everyday feminism through the practice of raising knowledge and autonomy among women in society (Zargarian 2019).

Implications and conclusion

The online feminist movements such as #MeToo have offered women a powerful avenue to voice their opposition to misogynistic law and have developed into more feminist movements. The hashtags have helped amplify women’s voices to reach not only local but international audiences, as seen in the feminist revolution unfolding in Iran following the tragic death of Mahsa (Jina) Amini in regime’s custody. Social media such as Instagram and Twitter played a crucial role in raising awareness, mobilising for protests, and organising collective action for ‘woman, life, freedom’, leading to more international visibility for women’s rights in Iran (Basmechi 2023; Clark-Parsons 2016).

Nevertheless, it is important to recognise that social media, while providing a safer space for resistance (Amir-Ebrahimi 2008), are not without challenges. The Iranian regime imposes strict restrictions on internet access and exerts control over the digital space, even hijacking hashtags and sabotaging the content (Kermani and Hooman 2022). As Clark-Parsons (2021) demonstrates in her study, making the personal visible opens activists up to risks. Additionally, sharing stories of harassment can be emotionally and practically draining, especially given the regime’s monitoring of online accounts. As a result, these obstacles have contributed to low rates of participation in digital feminism among Iranian women (Kermani and Hooman 2022).

In spite of the challenges, in the aftermath of #MeToo and the subsequent movements, feminist leaders have continued to educate the public and particularly women about sexual violence and their rights. As reported by Joshan (2024), lack of knowledge and misinformation, that is perpetuated by the regime and is entrenched in the legal and social spheres, is one of the main barriers in preventing and reporting sexual harassment. By promoting the everyday negotiation of societal norms and laws around sexuality as Mahdavi (2009) suggests, feminist leaders have actively opposed the inequitable Islamic laws in Iran.

Women from diverse backgrounds, age groups, and social classes employ a variety of resistance strategies – some prioritise education (Rezai-Rashti 2015), others engage in sports and increase their public visibility, some assert bodily autonomy by taking off their hijab, while some rebel and challenge conventions through taboo sexual behaviour (Mahdavi 2009; Zargarian 2019). Meanwhile, feminist leaders have shouldered the responsibility to facilitate sharing of narratives and educating the public. For survivors of sexual violence, the act of sharing their stories and breaking the silence represents a form of resistance within an ideology that honours shame and silence and places purity and virginity as its foremost values (Amini and McCormack 2021; Joshan 2024).

While in Iran #MeToo fell short of impacting structural or policy changes similar to those in many democratic countries, it created a momentum for Iranian women to find solidarity and strive for publicising the personal (Clark-Parsons 2021). As Zehtabi (2023) writes, before #MeToo movement, ‘it was a long line of Iranian women poets, fiction writers, artists, filmmakers, and activists that brought to light the necessity of fighting for one’s rights and freeing one’s voice.’ (159). In the same sense, after the #MeToo movement, it is the feminist educational leaders on online platforms that have taken some of the responsibility to make the personal political (Clark-Parsons 2021) and as agents of change (Blackmore 2006), challenging the oppressive control mechanisms imposed by the Islamic regime.

Education – that provides crucial information, brings light to people’s situations and connects people to one another – is key to changing the stigmatising culture for both men and women in Iran. Gert Biesta draws on Kant in naming modern education’s first connections to democracy at the end of the eighteenth Century, as people were revolting against monarchies and totalitarian regimes; when it was crucial for citizens ‘to be able to make up their own mind and … also for everyone to have the courage to make up their own mind’ (Apple et al. 2022, 247). Without support from the formal institutions, an increasing number of informal educational leaders and activists in Iran are stepping into the leadership and educational vacuum – to help people of all genders have both the ability and courage to make up their own minds about sexual relationships and equality. In order for the women of Iran to feel solidarity rather than shame.

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Additional information

Notes on contributors

Elham (Ellie) M. Foomani

Ellie (Elham) Foomani is a Lecturer in the Faculty of Education at Monash University, Melbourne, Australia. Ellie teaches in the areas of fostering classroom culture, humanities and social sciences, and in the Monash Access Program. Her research interests lie in Education for Social Justice, Relational Pedagogy, and Citizenship Education. Ellie is the project manager of the international collaboration ‘Education for a World Worth Living In’, a project that looks at how education can fulfil two main purposes: to help us to live well; and to help create a world worth living in for all.

Kristin Elaine Reimer

Kristin Reimer is an Associate Professor of Education, focusing on Positive School Communities, at Cape Breton University (Nova Scotia, Canada), and an Adjunct Associate Professor in Monash University’s School of Education, Culture and Society (Melbourne, Australia). Kristin works to advance the idea of education as a humanising practice. Restorative Justice Education (RJE), the main focus of Kristin’s work, is one such humanising approach in schools. Beyond RJE, other threads of Kristin’s research and practice reinforce education as a connective endeavour: alternative education for justice-involved youth; access to higher education for non-traditional students; experiences of refugee and asylum-seeking university students; global citizenship education; and intergenerational teaching relationships.