Black and White and Blurry

In the classroom we watched a very intriguing and revealing video called Persepolis to gain another view of Iran through the youth of the revolution.  We have been reading Children of Jihad as well, which gives a modern perception of the youth and Iranian culture; however, the author's discoveries are not as potent as the direct experiences of an Iranian youth in multi-media form.  Therefore, my own perception of Iran--its government, history, culture, and people--has been monumentally changed by the simple experience of a classroom-projected movie. 
          I feel that I would consider an unreliable government (or at least one that is exceedingly ureliable and dangerous) almost normal if I were the protagonist of Persepolis.  I would have to learn the tricks of dodgeing nonjudicious punishment and the trades of the black market, possessing no scale of innocence often associated with childhood or adolescence in the Western world.  However, the most pungent difference from how my own Western life has been would be the knowledge that I would not have the liberty to protest any abhorrent restrictions in the present or future at the possible risk of my life.  I, already shy and anxious at the very thought of failing expectations, would be completely governed by fear--no need for the revolutionary guard that I know would be there to catch me in any stray move.  Personally, I love rules (for the most part) in my own reality simply because I need something black and white to help base my own guidelines off of.  In Iran just after the revolution (especially during the eighties), my current role of rules would be totally misplaced.  I cannot imagine neither bending over backwards to obey Iranian law nor escaping the law "by the skin of my teeth" to exercise the rights that I believe should be government protected.  Nor could I imagine holding even more pessimistic opinions when it comes to politics :). 
          From chador to segregation, I think I could manage the social restrictions through childhood.  It would only be when I became aware of my miniscule allowances as a woman that I would discover how psychologically crippling the suffocation of freedom can be.