Noushin Ehsan, AIA
Copyright © 2022 Noushin Ehsan. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a review. Printed by Amazon, in the United States of America ISBN 9798402958081
Certificate of Registration, The United States Copyright Office Registration Number #TXu 2-293-267 First printing, 2022
I dedicate this memoir to my father, whose philosophy gave me my inner strength, and my mother, who gave me my drive and ambition. I miss them both dearly.
Contents Preface
EARLY LIFE (1944-1969) 1. My Family 2. Childhood 3. Hamedan 4. Khaniabad 5. Tehran 6. Student Life 7. Preparation for America
1 7 9 11 21 33 40
AMERICA AT LAST (1969-1974) 8. University of Pennsylvania 9. Los Angeles 10. Next Step
45 47 63
IRAN (1974-1979) 11. Return to Iran 12. Bob in Iran 13. Married Life 14. Professional Life 15. BEB Consultant 16. Childbirth 17. Shifting Gears 18. Life in Tehran 19. Revolution 20. Leaving Iran
85 88 95 101 104 113 120 122 129 134
LONDON (1979-1981) 21. Facing Realities 22. Five Days in Tehran 23. Back to London
137 141 150
IV
NEW YORK (1981-1986) 24. A New Life 25. Reconciliation
165 175
SEPARATION & DIVORCE (1986-1994) 26. Splitting Up 27. New Firm 28. Another Reconciliation 29. Custody and Divorce 30. Rejuvenation 31. When It Rains It Pours 32. Sunlight
189 191 201 203 208 215 220
AFTER MY DIVORCE (1994-2001) 33. Paradise 34. More Travels and Graduation 35. Endeavors 36. Government Clients 37. Robbed 38. Travel Teaching 39. Closest to Heaven
225 238 245 248 252 257 262
“RETIREMENT” (2001-Present) 40. Lessons Learned 41. Retreat 42. Lake House 43. Mother’s Passing 44. Another Trip to Iran 45. Traveling Companion 46. Giving Back 47. Beyond Work 48. Love 49. To Be Young
277 281 290 293 296 300 304 314 320 325
About the Author Disclaimer V
Preface
Many years ago I began keeping a journal of my life experiences, not so much with the goal of publishing a book, but because I hoped that one day my son and grandchildren might wish to know about their family. Fully aware that memories fade and that the truth gets distorted with the passage of time, I was determined to write as often as I could and disclose my feelings and encounters as thoroughly as possible. As I wrote, the process of putting my experiences on paper became cathartic. I have lived an unorthodox life and putting words on paper has allowed me to examine why I became the person I am today and how my life has evolved. Going through my journal in recent years has helped me come to terms with some unpleasant and painful memories. While reminiscing and writing, I have given myself permission to relive powerful emotions, and because of this I have been able to rejoice in the good, while cleansing my soul of unpleasant feelings. At some point during this writing process my focus broadened, and it occurred to me that if I made my journal into a book then perhaps friends, and even strangers, could gain something positive from it. After all, when it comes to the modern-day definition of “self-made,” I do seem to tick most of the boxes. With that in mind, I recruited several strangers to read my unedited manuscript and asked for feedback. I received many constructive comments, but one reader’s observation surprised me. She told me she liked the book and thought I was “amazing.” I was taken aback and remained silent so long that she thought we had been disconnected from our phone call. When I assured her that I was still on the line, I said, “That’s really not a word I use when describing myself. I’ve been fortunate to work on many amazing projects, but those projects are only a part of who I am, and my participation surely does not make me amazing. I’m simply Noushin, a person who has lived an atypical life. Now, if you had said I’m headstrong, seemingly fearless, a person who rarely takes no for an answer, I would agree—up to a point. I go after what I want but, like most people, I’m not totally fearless.” I was raised in a good but often dysfunctional family, and I learned at an early age that my success rested entirely on my shoulders. No one had my back. There are many types of success, and I can honestly say I’ve experienced both personal and professional victories as well as failures. This book addresses both. I want my readers, whether family, friends, or strangers, to come away with the message that no one must “settle” at any point in life. No matter what obstacles are thrown in your path, if you remain true to your journey and push forward to achieve your goals, the little failures along the way are really lessons learned,
VII
serving as stepping-stones to success. That old saying life is what you make it is true, and my narrative is proof. In addition to sharing details about my life, I will briefly share my philosophy of architecture and my thoughts as to what makes certain buildings uplifting and timeless. I also want to share why I believe it is so important to give back to our world without expecting recognition or material reward. I have been extremely fortunate during my career and have met some of the most remarkable people who have unselfishly given their time, money, and talent many times over. This is my story. I hope my journey reassures you that, no matter how difficult your path is, obstacles become opportunities, and often twists and turns add valuable experience that help you grow both personally and professionally. Of course, this memoir could not have been undertaken or completed without the assistance of many individuals, including the following: Charli Thoth, who pushed me to start this memoir—something I had not planned to do—and kept encouraging me and reminding me to keep up with it. Alina Jacobs, Jane Handorff, Alexandra Veselovskiy, and Luca Gottardo, who diligently typed my life stories. Qian Xu and Jianing Wang helped with the graphics of the book. Elaine Moore Sioufi shaped the book and shared her pearls of wisdom. Jane Slaiby, Dian Barsa, Alexandra Piol, and Dr. Massoud Eghrari critiqued earlier drafts and gave me valuable feedback. Noushin Ehsan¸ New York City, 2022
VIII
A MEMOIR: THE MAKING OF A WOMAN ARCHITECT
EARLY LIFE (1944-1969) Chapter 1: My Family “It’s complicated.” That’s a term I often hear when people talk about their relationships, whether or not the description applies. In the case of my family, complicated just scratches the surface.
Mother and Her Family
In parts of Iran arranged marriages were common. Children were often married at a young age as a means of preserving wealth and establishing ties among families. My mother was only eight years old when her father, the well-respected Imam Jummah1 died. After his passing, his older brother, Haji2 Ehsan, was awarded custody of my mother, her two sisters, and her brother. Although my grandfather was a wealthy man who left a good fortune for his children and widow’s upkeep, Haji Ehsan devised a way to keep the money within his immediate family. The eldest daughter, Maryam, was married off to his eldest son Yahya, as Islam allows first cousins to marry, and he married my Uncle Ahmad to one of his daughters. He also arranged a marriage between my mother—who was only nine years old—and his youngest son, who was ill with cancer at the time. The only child who was married outside the family was my mother’s youngest sister. My mom’s mother, Farhang, remarried and had three daughters and a son. My mother was only thirteen when she gave birth to my brother, Javad, and he was only six months old when cancer stole his father’s life, leaving my mom a widow before the age of fourteen. Still a child herself, there was nothing she could do but move back with her uncle. She was very pretty and had a great figure, but while living at her uncle’s home she contracted chicken pox and ended up with
1
2
Imam Jummah is the mullah who leads the Friday prayer at the main mosque. Haji is the title given to a Muslim man who has made his pilgrimage and performed the rites. 1
Noushin Ehsan
permanent scars on her face, a source of sadness and embarrassment throughout her life. Six years later, another marriage was arranged, this time to my father, Mashaallah Ehsan. Her new husband was also a cousin, this time once removed, and he was twenty years older than her. My mom and her second husband had three daughters—my eldest sister Homa, my middle sister Shahin, and me. My mother had no formal education, yet she was gifted in many ways. She learned reading and writing by herself, as she was not provided any tutors. Reading, sewing, and crocheting brought great joy to her life. Her crochet work was of such high quality that, during her later years in America, she successfully marketed her pieces. My mother was creative, sociable, and outgoing, and was well loved by her friends and admirers. She was devoted to the Baháʼí Faith3, which she found on her own and to which she converted, even though her family, all of them committed Muslims, disowned her. Throughout her life, Mom helped many people, but there were some responsibilities that seemed not to interest her at all—housekeeping and, unfortunately for her daughters, childcare.
Father and His Family
My father was the youngest of four children, and the only boy. Unfortunately, I never met his siblings. In fact, I don’t even know their names because my father never spoke of them. What I do know is that my father’s father was also a beloved Imam Jummah and a devoted Muslim but at some point gravitated toward the teachings of the Báb, one of the central figures in the Baháʼí Faith, and became a Bábi4. Naturally, with his conversion he stopped going to Friday Mosque to lead the Islamic prayers, and this angered many of his friends and neighbors. He shared his new faith with his wife, but she rejected the religion as she feared for her life and the lives of her children. At that time, the Muslim majority saw the Bábis as a threat, even though they strove to support and encompass all religions. With help from the family doctor, who was brainwashed against the Bábis, my grandmother plotted to poison my grandfather before the entire community could learn of his conversion. She shared her plan with my father, who was very young at the time, and prohibited him from saying goodbye even as he heard his dying father repeatedly calling his name from the adjacent room. How can anyone bear witness to his own father’s murder and remain
The Baháʼí Faith is an independent world religion whose Prophet-Founder is Baháʼu’lláh. For more information, go to www.bahai.org. 4 A Bábi is someone who follows the Báb, who Baháʼís consider to be the forerunner of Baháʼu’lláh. 3
2
A MEMOIR: THE MAKING OF A WOMAN ARCHITECT
unchanged? Despite Islamic prohibitions, my father later in his life became a heavy drinker, a chain smoker, and an opium addict. He also developed a burning desire to end the Bábi Faith by reconverting Bábis to Islam. At a young age, he went to Baghdad to learn about philosophy and theology, thinking that knowledge would help him win his battle against the Bábis. After seven years he returned to Tehran as a “learned man” and became a prominent theologian known throughout Tehran, and students hung onto his every word. They considered him enlightened. My father went to many Baháʼí gatherings, called firesides5, and used his oratorical skills to try to reconvert the Bábis (who by then were Baháʼís) back to Islam. He attended these fireside gatherings for more than twenty years and was gradually converted to the Baháʼí Faith. During many years of investigation, numerous signs, and a great deal of self-reflection, my father had several dreams that convinced him to accept Baháʼu’lláh as a prophet of the Baháʼí Faith. One day he told my mother, “I don’t want any more opium or alcohol, and I will never touch either again.” She just laughed and said, “We’ll see.” But to her amazement, he stuck to his word. My mother, a staunch Muslim, was astonished at the change in my father, and she couldn’t understand the reason behind this transformation. One day, however, she was invited by a Baháʼí lady friend to a fireside, and soon after having her own inspirational experience and speaking with those present, she converted to the Baháʼí Faith. Mom returned home, conflicted about telling my father about her conversion. Despite his public persona, my father was a stern husband who could be cruel behind closed doors. But something wonderful happened. As she entered the house, my mother saw my father praying—and she noticed he was standing at a slightly different angle than is normal for Muslim prayer. Instead, he faced the direction of the Shrine of Baháʼu’lláh in Haifa, Israel. She approached my father and said, “Agha (sir), what are you doing? Are you Baháʼí?” “How do you know I am Baháʼí?” he replied. “Because I am one, too,” she said. They embraced each other and cried. I was about one year old, and mother was still nursing me, giving me the joy of her spirituality. I always marvel that it took my father, an educated man, twenty years to accept the Baháʼí Faith, while my mother, a simple, spiritual woman, accepted the faith within a week.
5
A fireside is a home gathering at which the Baháʼí Faith is presented and discussed. 3
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