Solace of My Eyes: Remembering Táhirih

At the 1848 Conference of Badasht in Iran, Fatimih Baraghani attended as the only woman against 80 Bábí leaders. Standing before the gathered men, she lifted her veil – a symbol of modesty – and removed it. Horror flooded the assembly. This act was so shocking that one man slit his throat and fled in fear (Mottahedeh, 1997, pp. 64-65). At the conference, she delivered a speech which called for radical societal change, by challenging the patriarchal confines that had long suppressed Iranian women who were forced into submission and stripped of their autonomy. 

Today, she is remembered as Táhirih, a Persian name meaning ‘the pure one.’ This was a title given to her by Baháʼu’lláh, the founder of the Baháʼí Faith. Táhirih was born to a family of high-ranking Shi’a Muslim scholars in early 19th-century Qazvin, Iran. She received an exceptional education in literature and theology, a privilege rarely afforded to women in her time. Her intellect, eloquence, and charisma allowed her to engage in theological discourse on an equal footing with her male counterparts. Eventually, her spiritual journey led her away from Islam and toward the teachings of the Bábí faith, a movement that would later evolve into the Bahá’í Faith. After accepting the teachings of the Báb, she regularly delivered Bábí teachings in public, often addressing mixed-gender audiences, much to the dismay of Iranian authorities. Táhirih’s sermons were inspirational to many but also provoked fierce opposition, even from fellow Bábís who considered her behaviour scandalous and unchaste (Maneck, 1989, p. 3). This had undoubtedly established her as one of the most influential and controversial religious figures of her era.

In 1852, the attempted assassination of Nasir al-Din Shah Qajar by a radical group of Bábís issued a government crackdown on the entire Bábí community. Táhirih, already under house arrest, yet uninvolved in the assassination plot, was maliciously implicated. Authorities used the incident to justify the elimination of many Bábí leaders, including Táhirih. Fuelled by their outrage toward her radical behaviour, at the age of thirty-five, she was strangled to death secretly in the night – with her own veil. In her final moments, she remained unwavering in her convictions, declaring: "You can kill me as soon as you like, but you cannot stop the emancipation of women." 

Táhirih accepted her fate as a martyr for women's freedom, believing that sacrificing her life would inspire future generations. She saw her struggle not as an individual plight but as a necessary revolution, one that ensured women could be seen, heard, and participate in society alongside men as equals. 

I grew up carrying her name—or at least, her title: Qurrat al-‘Ayn, Arabic for ‘Solace of the Eyes.’ It was given to her by Siyyid Kázim, a forerunner of the Bábí faith and a mentor to Táhirih, who was fond of her talent and intellect. The name was given to me by my father, a Pakistani revolutionary poet who later immigrated to the UK. He died when I was only three years old. As a result, I felt disconnected not just from my name, but from the history it carries. I always expressed my dislike of my name to my mother, who explained to me that he fought vehemently with her to name me Qurratulain, while she had a simpler name in mind, like Aisha or Halima. Growing up in the West, many people of colour, including myself, have felt the sting of hearing their names mispronounced and feeling pressured to accept a shortened or anglicised nickname instead. 

Táhirih’s legacy found me in my twenties, breaking through years of disconnect and transforming my relationship with my name. Though her life was brutally cut short, her legacy endures, especially as the ongoing struggle for women's rights, religious freedom, and gender equality remains globally significant today. In my eyes, she remains a symbol of courage, faith, and resistance. Through her words and actions, she proved that even in the face of death, the pursuit of truth and justice can never be silenced.

Maneck, S. S. (1989). Tahirih: A Religious Paradigm of Womanhood. The Journal of Bahá’í Studies2(2), 39-54.

Mottahedeh, N. (1997). Ruptured Spaces and Effective Histories: The Unveiling of the Babi Poet Qurrat al-‘Ayn-Tahirih in the Gardens of Badasht. UCLA Historical Journal, 17.

By Qurratulain Javid

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Disbanding the Self: Why Resistance Demands Community