We had just received our class photos for the year. Me and my friends were talking about how it looked. It was the first class photo we have had where we had to wear the veil. Me and my friends talked about how we looked all like each other in the photo. It was due to the Islamic Revolution that happened a year before. All bilingual schools had to be closed because they were symbols of capitalism, we were all separated from our friends. On top of all this, it was now mandatory to wear the veil at school. Us, the children, really didn’t comprehend why we had to wear it; most of us wouldn’t even wear it, and use it as a jumping rope, or even pretend to suffocate other children with it, while saying things we had seen or heard on the television. We didn’t give it a lot of thought and didn’t bother wearing it. I didn’t really care that much about it, although deep down I was very religious. It was like giving a baby a phone, we didn’t know why it was there or why we had it. There were lots of demonstrations both for and against the veil, while my parents were fiercely against the veil and actively participated in them. In one of the demonstrations, my mother was photographed. You could clearly see it was her; her face, her hair, her glasses were all recognizable. I didn’t know why she was upset about it, the picture made it to newspapers in Europe and Iran! I was proud of her, and would have been delighted if I had been put in newspapers around the world myself, but she wasn’t.I knew from a very young age what I wanted to be when I grew up: a prophet. I wanted to be a prophet to stand up for those who were in pain, and those who weren’t treated fairly. Looking back on it, it was rather unrealistic. How was a ten-year-old supposed to forbid the elderly from suffering? It seemed really impossible, but I thought I had it all figured out back then, and my grandma seemed overly confident that I do it, and get rid of her suffering.God told me in one of my many dreams that I was ready to be a prophet. I personally thought I wasn’t. When I told my teacher about my , I got a condescending laugh from almost all of the other children while I didn’t know what was so weird about wanting to be a prophet. At least my grandmother believed in me, she wanted to be my first disciple. The teacher even spoke to my parents, who didn’t think it was weird that I wanted to be a prophet, but were surprised when I told them I wanted to be a doctor. They couldn’t know I wanted to be a prophet. Not yet. I wanted to be love, justice and have an iron fist all in one.