My grandmother, who raised me, worked as a janitor in an elementary school. Each day, she took me along, hiding me in the school library while she cleaned. That quiet library, filled with the distant laughter of children, became my sanctuary. I learned to read there and fell in love with science fiction—especially UFO stories. I often wondered: if aliens existed, how would it feel to be hidden among us?

Books fueled my academic success, and I was accepted into the filmmaking program at Tehran University of Art. My grandmother, denied education due to early forced marriage, saw my admission as a dream fulfilled.

At university, I began making a film about aliens in Iran. But after Mahsa Amini’s death, everything changed. A classmate was arrested and disappeared. I made a collage of her photos and spoke publicly, asking how we could continue as if nothing had happened. That speech marked me.

Labeled a “starred student,” I was expelled under false academic pretexts. Friends withdrew in fear. My grandmother was heartbroken.

In hiding, I reflected—and reignited my purpose. Now, my focus is on real “aliens”: starred students, silenced and erased from academia, their stories hidden like those I once imagined.