INTERVIEW
Roxana Shirazi
Alice Gee | 16/10/2025
Roxana Shirazi story is one of survival, resilience, and reinvention. Growing up in Iran during the revolution, she experienced both beauty and chaos, a childhood filled with love, family, and community despite the turmoil outside. When she moved to England as a child, the dream of a better life quickly collided with isolation, racism, and loss of belonging. These early experiences would later shape her voice as a writer and journalist, and her fearless determination to explore taboo subjects and challenge stereotypes about Middle Eastern women.
Roxana speaks with Alice about identity, trauma, and the freedom of writing, from documenting real-life encounters with the mafia and white supremacists to finding peace in nature, children, and animals. It’s a story about reclaiming power, redefining self, and finding joy in the simplest, most human moments.
Alice
What was life like for you as a 10-year-old girl, living in Iran?
Roxana
It's really magical in Iran. Neighbours all looking after one another and leaving the door open, as well as going into each other's homes for big dinners. We have hundreds of cousins who know each other, so it’s like one big mass unit of loving, love and support. That's Persian culture, similar to Italian or Greek culture.
Also, Iran is beautiful with colourful and beautiful scenery. There are fruit trees and mountains everywhere. It’s such a happy place. And although we were always surrounded by the Shah, Secret Police and gunfire, I still felt nestled in a safe, happy place.
Alice
I think so many of our formative years and core memories come from childhood. In your book, you write so beautifully about fleeing and starting over. I’m curious, how did that shift your childhood in many ways to experiencing such a major change?
Roxana
That's why I named the book Dead Iranian Girl, because I died on 10th of August. The shock entered my body to the brain, and it leaves scars forever. I always imagined England as something out of Mary Poppins or Jane Austen, a world of delicate, beautiful people, piano lessons and ballet classes in grand Georgian houses. The West was painted to me as completely utopian.
When my mum said I was going on holiday, a place to study and get a good education, I thought, This is going to be even better. I imagined great schools, great clothes, this glamorous new life. Honestly, I already had a wonderful life in Iran. I went to an amazing school, I was top of my class, had loads of friends, birthday parties. I was genuinely happy, even with the war and the Islamic Revolution happening around us.
Then, one day, it was just ‘goodbye,’ and I found myself in a completely different reality, this grey, isolated council estate in Moss Side, Manchester. It was nothing like what I’d imagined. I felt cut off, alone, sometimes even hungry. School was hard, and I faced racism for the first time. It was such a shock, a real trauma to the body.
Alice
How did you cope with the move and adjust to an unfamiliar place, it must have been difficult to deal with racism, judgment and stigma?
Roxana
Racism didn’t impact me that much. It was the sense of being away from love, family and safety. I felt less safe and more dangerous in England than I did in Iran. I was being called names which I didn’t understand what they meant. I was also bookish so I read a lot, but I’ve learned that actually was a disservice to me, as I wasn't supposed to be nerdy.
So I started to go the opposite way, wearing short skirts and make up, even bleaching my skin lighter to fit in. I went from looking like a nerdy knowing that it would get me bullied more, to not doing it. Even though I loved learning, I realised that won't get me any friends. It was actually the opposite of what my mom thought it was going to be in England, I was less educated and more isolated. I would have been better off with me being in Iran, with my family, being in a great school.
Alice
It’s interesting how kids learn to mask things. How did it impact you?
Roxana
It leaves its mark and I wrote that in my first book. I tried to write about my experiences and adventures in my second book, in order to feel escapism or alive. So the mafia boss, the rock legends, were all adventures to fill a void that I'd lost as a child. The book obviously talks about all those and racism, as well as being told I'm not the right category of Iranian women as I write about sex and white supremacists.
I’ve experienced racism more now than I did as a child, not being given a platform by the media, as I'm not brand safe or the correct category of Iranian woman.
Alice
Were there moments where you felt uneasy in writing about these, and nervous about how they'd be perceived, taken or read?
Roxana
I guess I always thought, I’m a human being. I should be able to write about my human experiences. I didn’t realise that different rules would apply to me just because I’m Iranian. White girls can write about being escorts, like Belle de Jour and it’s seen as normal. They go on This Morning or Loose Women and everyone treats it like just another story.
Yet, if I write about something similar, it’s immediately politicised. I become the other. I can’t exist under the same rules as English girls, even though I should be able to. My experiences should be treated as human experiences, not political statements.
It’s been the same with my new book. I’ve written about how hard it’s been to find work. The amount of times I’ve been told, ‘We Googled you, you’re not brand safe.’ Or, ‘You’ve written about sex, and you’re Iranian.’ Why can’t I just be? Why can’t I exist as a full, complex person?
People don’t always do it deliberately, but there’s so much unconscious bias. It’s like they want me to fit a stereotype, something digestible, easy to process. If I were the oppressed Iranian woman fleeing a regime, telling people how wonderful it is to be in the West, that would sit comfortably with them. But if I say, I used to be a mafia boss’s girlfriend, I’ve had relationships with rock stars, and I’ve done investigative journalism because I couldn’t get a job that challenges them. It doesn’t fit their idea of who I’m supposed to be, and that makes people uncomfortable.
Alice
It’s so much about what people find palatable, isn’t it? There’s this invisible line of what’s acceptable when it comes to making people uncomfortable.
Roxana
I don’t think people are racist on purpose. It’s more that the mainstream media has spent decades painting the Middle East as this problematic, villainous place, the ‘bad guy’. When it comes to Middle Eastern women, the image that gets circulated is always the same: veiled, oppressed, victims. But that’s just not the full picture. I know Middle Eastern women who’ve joined Hell’s Angels, who want to write books about their lives and yet, they stop themselves because they feel people wouldn’t accept it. That prejudice still lingers in ways people don’t even realise.
It’s something I’ve experienced myself. I couldn’t get work for so long and ended up doing manual jobs just to get by. In the book, I talk about that feeling of being shut out, and how that partly led me to go back to Iran and being smuggled in. I’d lost everything, my home, my community, which was the rock and roll world, and that world wasn’t what I thought it was either. It was misogynistic, and I didn’t fit in. So I reached a point where I thought, I’ve got nothing to lose. I just wanted to return to a place where, somehow, I thought I might belong.
Alice
Has writing changed how you perceive or look at yourself and your experiences?
Roxana
I’ve been writing since I was 14. I’ve always been so aware of the world around me. It’s like I have invisible tentacles picking up on everything: people, dynamics, society. Whatever situation I find myself in, I take it all in and eventually write about it, especially when it comes to the rock and roll world. Even when I travel somewhere, I can’t just switch that off. I’ll think, What’s here that I can write about? I don’t want to just visit and have fun; I want to understand the place, its stories, its layers.
That’s actually what happened when I was seeing that rock legend who lived in Alabama. I remember thinking, What’s in Alabama? and discovering there were white supremacist groups. So I decided, okay, I’m going to go there and write about them. I’m always on, 24/7, observing, learning, writing things down. It’s just how I make sense of everything.
Alice
What did you connect to when writing The Dead Ringer Girl?
Roxana
Dead Ringer Girl is more like a Pulp Fiction type of story, full of dark, self-deprecating English humour.
As I was writing it, I realised how important it is to be able to laugh at life, no matter how dark or difficult things get. You can’t take it too seriously, even when you’re lonely or out of work, you have to find that spark that keeps you going. That’s something I’ve always carried with me since moving here.
In that sense, maybe it did connect me to my past. Being a foreigner, an outsider, there’s always been that feeling of not quite belonging. After thousands of job applications and being told over and over again that I couldn’t get a job because of who I am or what I’ve written. It hits you hard. I ended up doing sex work and cleaning just to survive, even though I’ve got two MAs. So in a way, that mirrored my childhood too, that same sense of isolation, of being on the outside looking in.
Alice
How have you learned to manage and connect with your mental health, to cope and find balance through it all?
Roxana
I’m not going to say it's easy, because it has an effect on the body. I can't do yoga or massages because when the trauma is released, I end up anxious and panicked. I'm still in that space, trying to find a way to cope. I try to numb myself. I could get really overwhelmed if I think of the reality.
I just try to take each day as it comes and eat healthy, not look too much at the news or negative things on social media, or I will get more upset. I'm very sensitive to animal cruelty. I prefer to be around nature, animals and children, with good happy vibes.
Alice
I always find it fascinating hearing how other people’s bodies and minds respond to stress or trauma, especially when people say, “Oh, this is calming,” and for someone else, that same thing might not be. It really shows how individual our paths to healing are.
Roxana
I completely agree. I’ve learned what actually helps me. I’ve reached the age where I know there’s no one-size-fits-all approach. Even if it’s something silly, like watching a trashy movie, if it lifts my mood and gives me a little dopamine hit, I’ll watch it. It doesn’t matter what it is. It makes me feel good, and that’s what counts.
Like I said, the body keeps the score. We hold so much inside us. For example, if I go for a really deep tissue massage, it’s too much. I end up feeling unwell afterwards. I’ve learned to respect that my body has stored trauma, and healing isn’t about forcing it out. The only way I could truly “fix” everything would be to disappear somewhere for ages and have endless therapy, and who can afford that? So instead, I focus on what is possible: surrounding myself with good people, spending time with children, animals, and nature.
Alice
What have you enjoyed about the difference in writing styles? Do you have a favourite between fiction and non-fiction, or does it depend on where you are in life and what you want to express at that time?
Roxana
I think I’ll always have a soft spot for non-fiction. I’m a journalist at heart. I did my NCTJ and absolutely loved it, from media law to shorthand. I’ve always been observant, curious, and fascinated by people. Real life is so much stranger and more interesting than fiction. I mean, I recently met a 90-year-old porn star and thought, Okay, I have to interview you. What’s your life like? What do you do? People like that, those incredible, unexpected lives, that’s what keeps me inspired.
That said, I’ve recently started writing fiction for children, which has been such a joy. I tell my nieces and nephews stories, and they always say, “You’ve got to write this down!” So I’ve started writing a children’s book. It’s not scary, but it’s got a creepy edge to it, just the right amount. I test it on them all the time. I’ll say, “Is this too scary?” and they’re like, “No, no, keep going!” So I’m learning from them.
Alice
I know I constantly battle imposter syndrome. I worry how things will be received, or if people will misunderstand me. It’s exhausting sometimes. How do you deal with that, mentally?
Roxana
Oh, I completely relate. I’ve always struggled with imposter syndrome. I actually find compliments really uncomfortable. Even when I won the runner-up prize for The Dead Iranian Girl, I didn’t feel proud. I just felt cringy and shy about it. I think deep down I still have that child in me who was told she wasn’t worth listening to. That voice doesn’t just disappear.
So yes, there’s a part of me that’s shy and full of self-doubt, but there’s another side that’s bold and fearless, the one that wants to expose things, talk about taboo subjects, and tell the stories that others might avoid. That side of me takes over when I write.
But in my day-to-day life? Compliments still make me squirm. I remember this really famous rock musician I was seeing, and he’d say these lovely things about me, and I’d be like, “Stop! No! I look like a potato and live in a council flat. You could be dating models!” And he’d just laugh and say, “You’re amazing.” I couldn’t handle it. I’m still learning to accept the good things as easily as I accept the bad.
Alice
What’s been something you’ve enjoyed the most, and maybe something that’s surprised you along the way about your most recent book?
Roxana
Writing and releasing. I was really proud of the journalism I did for it. In the book, there was a sex trafficking gang in Bristol, and I actually put myself forward as an escort and ended up catching them. I couldn’t believe I’d done that. I reported them to the police with all the numbers, and they went to court and everything. I’ve liked writing about the Middle East, Cairo, and the mountains. I liked the mystery, the sense of the exotic, that ancient world, and the contrast between that and the neon lights of Vegas, when I was a stripper. I liked that I could remember it all so vividly, the smells, the atmosphere. It was so alive in my mind.
I’m an old romantic too, so when I was writing about the musician, I still got mushy and sentimental. That part made me happy. But I didn’t like writing about the bad stuff, the child abuse, my stepfather, being ostracized. That felt really dark and horrible, and I almost wanted to stop writing it because it brought back such heavy feelings.
But even through that, I still had hope. When I was writing, I kept thinking that maybe one day I could live a normal life to do what I love, to write, to do journalism, to earn money from it, to have my cat, and just be content. That hope has always stayed with me, and I wanted that to come through in the book.
Alice
What brings you joy? It can be the smallest thing, but that moment where your heart feels like it’s about to burst. For me, it’s that feeling of complete tranquillity.
Roxana
Simple things like nature, animals and children bring me joy. It’s the real pure joy, which couldn’t be bought with money. If I could be in a woodland with children and my cat, that would be pure joy.
