In 1998, Tala Raassi served five days in prison in her homeland of Iran and received 40 lashes for wearing a miniskirt to her Sweet 16 birthday party. The traumatic event inspired Raassi to move to the US in 2000, where she has since become a swimsuit designer and author of “Fashion Is Freedom.” The 33-year-old Washington, DC, resident tells The Post’s TASHARA JONES about the forbidden fashion decision that changed her life for the better.
I fell in love with fashion when I was 8 years old.
I had a Barbie with a bikini, and I wanted to make her a coat. So I took my mother’s mink and cut 8 inches off of the bottom. When my mom came home, I thought she would be proud of me, so I ran downstairs and said, “Look what I did!” She was in shock. She was so upset that I had ruined her fur, she punished me. But still, my Barbie had a great coat.
I was born in the US in 1982 but raised in Fereshteh Shemiran, Tehran. When I was growing up, it was illegal for women to walk in the streets with men who were not their relatives, or to wear revealing clothing — such as bathing suits and skirts — in public. The Basij, a government-sanctioned militia who consider themselves to be defenders of Islam and believe that they have been given permission by God to punish those who commit sins, terrorized citizens.
But still, my love of fashion continued. When people visited my mom from the States, they would bring me fashion magazines; I memorized every single outfit and idolized Marie Claire.
As my 16th birthday approached in 1998, for days I begged my 19-year-old brother to come to a Sweet 16 party my friend was hosting for me. I was put on punishment prior to the party — I hadn’t been out for a month and a half — but I knew that if my brother went with me I would be able to go. Thankfully he agreed to come with me.
For the party, I decided to wear a miniskirt that I bought at a boutique in Iran. Even though they are illegal to wear in public, you are allowed to wear them in the house and around members of the same sex. I just wanted to be a regular teenager and wear what I wanted to wear — but to get to the party without attracting stares, I wore pants under the miniskirt and donned a hijab. When we got to the party, my friends and I took off our pants and hijabs, revealing our party ensembles.
I was at the party for nearly an hour before seven Basij soldiers broke down the door. My friend saw the first cop and yelled, “Run!” I started to sprint through the back door, then down the middle of the street as my heels clacked against the pavement. Three Basij chased after me before they yelled, “Stop, or I will shoot!”
Suddenly, I was hit so hard with the butt of a gun that the button of my skirt flew off, and I had to hold it to stop it from falling. I was searched, and they found a small version of the Quran in my purse. The Basij looked at me with disgust. He asked, “Do you even know the meaning of this book, being dressed the way you are?”
In total, 16 boys and girls were arrested that night, including my brother. We were taken to the Vozara Detention Center in Tehran, where I had to fill out a form that explained how much makeup I had on, a description of my outfit, the color of my nail polish and my nickname, as if I were a prostitute with a street name. I later learned the ex-boyfriend of the girl who threw the bash had revealed the party to the police as revenge.
There were around 100 women in the prison, including a woman with an infant, a bride and a 10-year-old girl. The jail was filthy. There were five toilets where rats, roaches and ants ran around.
A judge told us that the guys would receive 50 lashes and the girls 40. I thought, ‘Oh my God, this is really happening.’
- Tala Raassi
The only thing that gave me some sort of comfort was being chained to my friends. We were put in the hallway, where the trash was kept. At first, we kept busy by playing board games; by the end, we were in such fear that we didn’t even speak to each other.
After five days, my friends and I were led out of the jail and into a courtroom, where a judge told us that the guys would receive 50 lashes and the girls 40. I thought, “Oh my God, this is really happening.” I had never been in trouble before, but all of the stories I had been warned of were about to come true.
When they finally took the handcuffs off, I was forced to lie on a bed.
At that moment the female punisher whispered in my ear, “You need to scream as loud as you can, so we can pretend that I am hitting you as hard as I am hitting everybody else.”
The lashes were very painful, and after receiving 40 I was released to my parents. I was in so much pain on the car ride home I could not even sit back. The marks were red at first, but after a week they turned yellow, and then blue. It took me four weeks to heal, but for months my back bared swollen stripes.
I graduated high school a few weeks later, then moved back to the US with a relative after spending some brief time in Dubai. It was there my love of fashion re-emerged — I saw women in European-cut bathing suits, and others covered from head-to-toe on the same beach. But they were all doing it on their terms, not because a government was telling them to. They co-existed on the same beach peacefully, and that’s when the motto “fashion is freedom” popped into my head.
I soon began working in a boutique in the US. In 2009, after three failed attempts at starting my own fashion line, I successfully launched Tala Raassi swimsuit designs. The next year, my label was chosen as the official swimsuit sponsor for the Miss Universe pageant. I was so happy that my work was making a mark, and my family was proud to celebrate my achievements.
Since then, my swimwear line has been featured in international fashion magazines and worn by celebrities such as Kristen Stewart and “Glee” actress Jenna Ushkowitz.
As painful as that punishment was, it made me who I am today. If I had not gone to the party, I may never have realized the connection that fashion has with one’s identity, and may not have pursued it as passionately. Because for me, fashion really is freedom — it’s not about the amount of clothing you take off or put on, it’s just about having the choice to do so.