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the universities. Historically, universities in Iran have served as notorious venues for student resistance. In 1999, students at the University of Tehran rioted in large numbers after conservative hard-liners closed a respected reformist newspaper. In response, the government—predominantly comprised of conservatives who want a more nonsecular and autocratic society—unleashed two of its militant forces—the Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps and Ansar-e Hezbollah—on the student dormitories. The brutality of this notorious crackdown continues to haunt Iranians each time they consider taking to the streets. During the crackdown, some students disappeared, others were injured, and some were killed. Ever since 1999, the regime in Iran has kept a close eye on the university; the intelligence services have even recruited a network of spies within the student body to report on their classmates.
    The gates at the University of Tehran were heavily guarded by armed soldiers and Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps. The Revolutionary Guards, intimidating in appearance, wore dark green uniforms and held their guns firmly. Alongside the conservative clerics, the Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps is one of the most representative features of the Islamic Revolution. Trained in the old American embassy, now called the “Den of Spies,” these soldiers are the very embodiment of the regime’s ruthlessness. They are a fearsome sight; to get past them, I used a trick I’d learned as a freshman in college. In those days before I turned twenty-one, I had learned to maximize the effectiveness of my fake ID by pretending to talk on a cell phone while trying to enter a bar or club. After I was denied entry at the main gate of the University of Tehran, I simply walked to another entrance, started an imaginary conversation on my cell phone, and walked right in.
    The campus didn’t look much different from an American university, with the notable exception of a Friday-prayer venue, several small mosques, and numerous pictures of Ayatollah Khomeini hanging on the sides of buildings. Students sat in scattered circular formations throughout the grass courtyards of the university. Other students crowded onto the stairs of buildings, perfectly situated for optimal people watching. Tired of sightseeing and eager to speak with students, I turned to enter the first building I saw. It was a three-story cement structure decorated with elaborate columns in front and preceded by a large staircase. On the front face of the building hung imposing portraits of both Iran’s spiritual leader, Ali Khamanei, and the hero of the Islamic Revolution, Ayatollah Khomeini. Above all of this waved the flag of the Islamic Republic.
    Inside, students were running wild, dashing in different directions, and forming pockets of loud, chattering social groups in every square inch of the lobby. Others ran to the cafeteria to get a sandwich or muffin before their next class. There were even some who I saw taking a nap on the floor. It reminded me of the period in between classes in an American high school, where students make use of those few minutes of liberation from the classroom.
    As I weaved through the crowd of university students, I looked for one who might seem willing to help me. I had never found it difficult to meet people in another country. Having traveled to Africa about a dozen times, I had become accustomed to traveling alone. It didn’t feel strange to approach random people or even go out in the evenings to a club by myself. It didn’t bother me. Traveling extensively on my own has actually created a sense of curiosity about other people that has filtered into my everyday life. Wherever I am—whether it is New York, Oxford, or Kenya—I am always striking up conversations with strangers. Sometimes they think it is weird and suspicious, but to me it feels normal. Iran was no different. In fact, my initial reasons for going to the University of Tehran were