Let Googoosh sing

For over two decades, Iran's reigning queen of pop has been strictly forbidden to perform. Now she's got a passport, a string of sold-out U.S. stadiums and an angry government back home.

By Hadani Ditmars

Sep 18, 2000 | Googoosh, the stage name of the pre-revolutionary Persian pop diva Faegheh Atashin, is as famous in her homeland of Iran as Elvis is here. But trying to relate the importance of the singer to an American audience feels like one of those desperate Hollywood movie pitches: It's "The Bodyguard" meets "Not Without My Daughter," or maybe "A Star is Born" meets "The King and I."

Maybe the closest American scenario would be to imagine that a Jerry Falwell-style revolution had taken place in the States, a brutal theocracy had been established and some sort of Barbara Streisand/Madonna hybrid had been banished from the stage on religious grounds. Then, after a decade or two of seclusion the Babs/Material Girl combo is permitted to leave the U.S. and embark on a world tour. Abroad, she's greeted by thousands of cheering American refugees who, in their longing to return home, eat up her nostalgic offerings and beg for more.

There is no real American equivalent to the story of Googoosh. There have been no revolutions here of late, and pop singers have long lost any real political significance.

For thousands of Iranian expats, however, it's big news that Googoosh is kicking off her yearlong world tour in North America (before going to Europe and the Middle East). Having already played to sold-out stadium crowds in Vancouver, British Columbia, Toronto, Los Angeles, New York and Houston, Googoosh has even more momentum for her dates in Oakland, Calif., Dallas, Atlanta, Chicago and Las Vegas. As for the fans who last heard her sing in pre-revolutionary Iran, the possibility of hearing Googoosh live in America hangs like some fantastic dream; in the suspended reality of Iranian politics, it could be a sign of change, or merely the red herring facade of a regime hoping to present a kinder, gentler face to the outside world.

Googoosh's is a story many Iranians have taken to heart, her sufferings resonating with their own. She began her career as a child star, and hit her peak in the '70s Tehran cabaret scene -- condemned as "decadent" by the mullahs -- as a singer, dancer and actress.

She fled Iran on the eve of the revolution, only to return a few months later. Although she escaped the fate of many artists who faced brutality at the hands of the regime, Googoosh did receive a brief jail sentence. But her real punishment came in her banishment from public performance, as the new ruling class declared women's voices to be "demonic," and initially prohibited almost all forms of music but prayers and revolutionary dirges. So when Mohammad Khatami's reformist regime returned Googoosh's passport earlier this year, the end of her 20-year seclusion -- and her return to the concert stage -- surprised and delighted Iranians at home and abroad.

One question hovers over the current tour: Will Googoosh return home to face threats from fundamentalists opposed to her concerts? Or, as is rumored, will she face the regime's wrath and defect to Canada, where her brother has resided for several years, or perhaps to Los Angeles, where her son lives?

Next Page: "Trafficking" of Googoosh remains a crime

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