Eyes of Resilience: The Look That Saved My Life
Iran is a land of contrasts, to say the least.
From the bustling metropolis of Tehran to the serene mountains of Shiraz, every corner of this country is a visual and cultural feast. But amidst all its beauty, there is also a dark side that often goes unnoticed – the strict societal norms and expectations placed upon women.
Growing up as a young girl in a small Iranian town, life was a complicated mix of strict (sometimes nonsensical) norms and religious doctrines. All the while, I found comfort in my progressive parents, who offered me glimpses into a world beyond these confines.
At school, I was the “rebel.” You might call it “free-spirited” or write it off as childlike curiosity. But back then, it was a label that set me apart.
My yearning to explore, learn, and feel more landed me in some crazy situations. And, retrospectively, it’s why I’ve been able to co-found multiple businesses.
For better or for worse, my friends were quite similar. And…yes. Curiosity did kill the cat (metaphorically, of course).
Here, I’ll share with you one of the most scarring, yet pivotal stories of my childhood.
I was 15 years old, on a school field trip
Our school took us on a field trip to a religious site far out in the Iranian wilderness. The beauty of nature around us was captivating, but I quickly grew restless. I needed to see more.
In a burst of youthful curiosity, I rallied my friends for a secret hike. Of course, their response was a resounding “Yes!”.
With hearts racing, we slipped away, eight of us girls, into the wilderness, our laughter echoing under the canopy.
Amidst our excitement, a sudden, unnerving sensation gripped me. It was as if an inner voice, a whisper of intuition, screamed of impending danger. This feeling, so visceral and commanding, sent chills down my spine.
I urged my friends to return.
“Something’s not right,” I insisted, my voice laced with urgency.
Yet, their laughter drowned my warnings, their eyes alight with the thrill of exploration. In spite of my protests, they ventured further, and I sheepishly trudged along behind them.
My friends chuckled at my sudden caution. “You’re the brave one, let’s go further!” they teased. But a deep-rooted fear gripped me. Palms sweating profusely, I picked up a good-sized stick off the ground. My makeshift shield.
As we moved further and further from our starting point, we stumbled upon a grape farm. Its dense vines and labyrinthine rows grew narrower and narrower. The charming scenery was quickly becoming a cloak for hidden threats.
All of a sudden, a man emerged on our path
He was tall, middle-aged. maybe 40, 45. My alarm bells went off.
Menace emanated from his approach; the air grew thick with threat. Trapped in the vine’s embrace, with nowhere to flee, I gripped my stick with resolve. As our group’s unwitting leader, I faced a split-second choice: confrontation or capitulation.
So, I stepped forward, stick at the ready, bracing for the unknown.
Tension spiked as the man neared, my friends oblivious in their grape-gathering mirth. The path’s narrowness left us no escape without sounding the alarm.
In his presence, I felt the moment’s gravity. An inner voice implored me to hold his gaze, to project the courage I wasn’t sure I had. It was a silent battle of wills, my newfound fortitude locking with his in a silent assessment of strength.
I surrendered to instinct, a calm clarity amidst the surge of adrenaline. As he loomed over us, the standoff seemed endless. Yet, after an intense forty-second gaze, he stepped past and scanned my friends. Seconds later, he seized one of them and disappeared into the vine-laden horizon.
“Nazli, we can’t leave her!” she cried
The weight of responsibility crushed me—I had led us here.
Resolute, I chose valor over a lifetime of regret and wheeled around, flanked by two friends, to confront the abductor.
We discovered them secluded among the grapevines, a sight that nearly broke me.
He was half-clad. She was beneath him, defenseless and fading. She had resisted, now overpowered and unconscious.
I gripped my stick and signaled my friends. With precision, I threw it, hitting him squarely on the head. The strike diverted his wrath to me. As he stood, our eyes locked in a ferocious challenge, and he lunged with unrestrained fury.
The pursuit that ensued was harrowing. The man was on my heels, his reach nearly snagging my clothes. I dared not glance back, running on pure adrenaline that lent me unprecedented speed.
As I tore through the vines and leapt over debris on the rugged ground, I landed straight on my ankle — a pain I couldn’t feel in the moment but which lasted weeks after.
Moments later, I reached the others. My sanctuary.
With so many of us together, he could no longer overpower us. And, more importantly, the others had heroically saved our friend.
I didn’t know how to feel…
Yes, we were physically safe. No, we weren’t unscathed. The grime, the dirt, the fear that gripped me until I went home…
The intense physical pain of my crash landing was catching up to me. And the sight of my friend — safe, but violated — was a wound that seared deep into my soul.
Upon seeing my condition, my parents whisked me to the hospital where a shocking revelation awaited: I had broken my ankle during the cliffside escape. The adrenaline had dulled the pain, its severity only coming to light when my dad noticed the alarming swelling and discoloration. A cast was my new companion for the coming two months.
Lying in that hospital bed, the day’s terror crystallized into a sobering reality, and from this traumatic episode, three life-altering lessons emerged, reshaping my worldview.
1. The power of intuition
There’s a silent, potent force that guides us all. A voice that whispers warnings and nudges towards what’s right. It was this intuition that saved me from harm and gave me the courage to confront danger head-on.
As an entrepreneur, I needed that same force. Gut feelings often precede rational analysis in decision-making, and I’ve learned to trust my instincts when they signal a red flag. That’s how you lead with foresight and confidence.
2. The subtlety of body language
In the aftermath of the incident, I pondered why the man chose the girl he did. Was it coincidence? Or was it something he saw in her that drew him to her?
As humans, we tend to take the path of least resistance. And she’d always been the most delicate among us. She was known for her gentleness and kind-hearted nature, qualities that, in this unfortunate situation, made her an unwitting target.
There’s an interesting study — “Psychopathy and Victim Selection” — that confirms this. Perpetrators can sense vulnerability through subtle cues like posture, gait, and facial expressions.
In business, nobody’s waiting behind grapevines to assault you. But they are reading your body language, both consciously and subconsciously. They know how confident and trustworthy you are. And they know what kind of person you are before you open your mouth.
3. The perception of pain
If you’ve ever broken a bone or suffered a severe injury, you know the pain is nowhere near what you’d expect it to be. In my case, while I was sprinting and tumbling down the cliffside with a broken ankle, I felt very little (in the moment).
“Adrenaline and cortisol” would be the oversimplified answer. But there’s more to it.
Pain is not objective — it’s subjective. It’s a perception, an interpretation by our brains that can vary from person to person, situation to situation.
In reality, the spikes in adrenaline and cortisol are just symptoms. The root cause is your body’s unwavering commitment to survival. That’s why the intensity of pain is malleable, and people can endure seemingly unbearable levels when they have to.
In entrepreneurship, that same perception applies. Challenges and setbacks are inevitable, but it’s how we perceive them that determines their impact on us. If we see them as opportunities for growth rather than insurmountable obstacles, we can push through with resilience and determination. And that can make all the difference in achieving success.
