November 10, 2014 - 17:35
Throughout this section, there were a number of references made that indicate that Marjane comes from a family of financial privilege; more concretely, we can see the role of class in the way the events surrounding her family and her eventual leaving of Tehran play out. For example: when her uncle must leave the country for medical care but isn't granted approval for a passport, they plan to pay for one for him; they . More generally, Marjane and her family's attitudes towards the oppression they face highlights a comparable level of privilege. She continuously defies authority by purchasing luxuries--clothing, posters, jewelry, tapes--to the point that tempting fate starts to seem like a bit of a game, even after she is almost detained (134). She is equally defiant in class, talking back and ignoring regulations, conferring the privilege that regardless of what happens, she'll be able to find somewhere else to go (and again when she is at her boardinghouse in Vienna) (see 143). Moreover, her family is equally resistant, continuing on with parties and storing up contraband (see "The Wine," 103). Their emphasis that she continue getting an education in French is another marker of class, as is their ultimate decision to have her leave the country to continue that education.
Her family's socioeconomic privilege undoubtedly does more than enable them to do more than just live comfortably. In a time of political turmoil, they have the stability to resist the regime that opresses them both by spending money on prohibited goods and by engaging in behaviors that are against the law with little concern for the consequences (beyond with Marji's attitude in school, we also see this when her father pays off an officer to not check his house for contraband). In contrast, I look at their maid's son, who received a "key to heaven" for if they "were lucky enough to die" (99)--a plastic key painted gold to "hypnotize them" with positive and empowering rhetoric--and the promise of a paradise that surpasses any life they might have now. Clearly, these two parties are experiencing the war at opposite ends of a spectrum, and we are primarily seeing it through only the lens of privilege and stability. Though are view is limited, we also see a different set of challenges and tragedies--for example, she goes alone as a teenager to school in a foreign country, where she must navigate her own way as an outsider who comes from a home where war is a reality (see her friend Momo's strange obsession with death). As an autobiography, Marji's story is certainly relevant: it's a true story, after all; moreover, it demonstrates the variety of ways that the many forms of conflict she's experiencing (everything from the veils and religious ideology in Tehran to language and cultural devisions in Vienna). I am reminded of a Washington Post article I've seen floating around from an African American man who thought his financial privilege--manifested through clothing, private school, manners, language, and overall demeanor as well as knowledge about all of the above--would shelter his children from racism. In many ways, I see Marji as a parallel to this. Although her parents likely never thought she would be sheltered from the war altogether, Persepolis shows that even those who are most likely to be able to "live above the law" are still deeply affected, and that, as seen in the Washington Post story, the intersection of one privileged identiy isn't necessarily enough to erase the oppression faced from another.