We had just received our class photos for the year. Me and my friends were talking about how it looked. It was the first class photo we have had where we had to wear the veil. Me and my friends talked about how we looked all like each other in the photo. It was due to the Islamic Revolution that happened a year before. All bilingual schools were closed, and we were all separated from out friends, and it was now mandatory to wear the veil at school. Us, the children, really didn’t comprehend why we had to wear it; most of us wouldn’t even wear it, and use it as a jumping rope, or even pretend to suffocate other children with it. We didn’t give it a lot of thought I didn’t really care that much about it, although deep down I was very religious. It was like giving a baby a phone, we didn’t know why it was there or why we had it. There were lots of demonstration both for and against the veil. In one of the demonstrations, my mother was photographed. You could clearly see it was her; her face, her hair, her glasses were all recognizable. I didn’t know why she was upset about it, the picture made it to newspapers in Europe and Iran!I knew from a very young age what I wanted to be when I grew up: a prophet. I wanted to be a prophet to stand up for those who were in pain, and those who weren’t treated fairly. Looking back on it, it was rather unrealistic. How was a six-year-old supposed to forbid the elderly from suffering? I thought I had it all figured out back then.God told me in one of my many dreams that I was ready to be a prophet. When I told my teacher, I got a condescending laugh from almost all of the other children. The teacher even spoke to my parents, who didn’t think it was weird that I wanted to be a prophet, but were surprised when I told them I wanted to be a doctor. They couldn’t know I wanted to be a prophet. Not yet. I wanted to be love, justice and have an iron fist all in one.