She’s called “Solka” so much so that even those around her have forgotten her real name is “Sara Bahreini.”

Sara, or Solka as she’s known, has numerous tattoos adorning her body and exudes a sleek gangster style. She’s reminiscent of “Griselda Blanco,” except Sara is no criminal—she’s an artist, writing beautiful lyrics with a powerful voice. Many consider her a new prodigy in the realm of hip-hop music in Iran. It’s hard to believe for some that with such high-quality work, she was born in 2002 (1381).

Around three years ago, when she was only 17, a video of her impromptu street performance (freestyle) at a rap gathering in Borazjan surfaced. In that performance, Solka was the only girl present. Despite gender stereotypes, she led the meeting and shined due to her immense talent. It’s unlikely anyone who saw her performance has forgotten it.

Shortly after, amid the “Women, Life, Freedom” movement, another shocking video of Solka circulated. But this time, she wasn’t the artist on stage. A large, plainclothes officer had her pinned to the ground in the street, kneeling on her back, waiting for his colleagues to arrive. The scene evoked memories of the arrest of George Floyd in the U.S., but this time, the victim was a 17-year-old girl artist. This teenage girl was taken to Bushehr’s adult prison and soon after convicted by a judge for her art, lifestyle, and beliefs.

Solka’s brief but fiery rise, followed by her arrest and subsequent silence, fueled rumors, including the spread of misinformation. However, Peace Mark Monthly Magazine managed to convince her to engage in an interview to introduce a new generation of protest art and discuss gender taboos and existing challenges. What follows is a conversation with one of Iran’s youngest underground artists.

To start, please tell us about yourself. How did you enter the world of hip-hop and choose this artistic path?

They always say everyone has a talent, and for me, that talent was music. Since childhood, music was something I’d listen to everywhere—it felt like a new world where I could lose myself. Hip-hop, for me, wasn’t just a genre; it was a way to express my feelings and talk about life. Entering the world of hip-hop was like finding something I’d always been searching for, a place where I could speak openly, without censorship. I chose this artistic path because nothing else could connect me to the world around me with such intensity as rap. Rap, for me, is life itself—a way to convey pain, joy, and everything inside me.

Why is the protest style of hip-hop so appealing to you, and what message do you want to convey to society through your music?

Hip-hop was born to protest. In other styles, you might sing about mundane things like rain and flowers, but rap goes beyond romantic themes. This style allows me to speak openly and shout my protest out loud. For me, rapping is easier than talking, and I can precisely convey what’s in my heart with my words. My music is the voice of those whose voices might not be heard—those who hide their anger, despair, and pain. Through rap, I want to tell society that we shouldn’t stay silent in the face of injustice and inequality. This style is a way for me to make others understand that protest is our right and no one can silence us.

What does Borazjan mean to you, and why did you decide to keep your local accent in your songs?

Borazjan is the only place where I could be my true self—a small but lovely city where my roots and identity were shaped. It’s where I found myself in the best way possible. My local accent is part of that identity, and I decided to keep it in my songs because I want to introduce my city and the way we speak to others. The local words fit perfectly with rap beats, adding a special vibe to the lyrics. My goal is for people in other parts of Iran to know Borazjan and understand that this small city has a lot to say. Preserving the local accent is a symbol of my authenticity and deep connection to my hometown.

In your performances, especially in street freestyles, you were the only girl in the group. How did you face these male-dominated spaces and gender stereotypes?

People always ask why I, as the only girl, perform in a group full of guys. For me, it’s all normal; gender has never mattered to me, and it still doesn’t. I don’t see why it should be strange for a girl to sing. I don’t view myself in male-dominated spaces—this is a place for everyone, and no one should be judged based on gender. Gender cannot limit my abilities, and it certainly doesn’t define my artistic path. For me, singing is like breathing, and nothing can stop it. I believe gender shouldn’t be an obstacle to achieving your dreams or expressing yourself. When I sing, I feel like I’m showing everyone that gender has no limits.

After the video of your arrest went viral, how did you feel society and the underground artist community reacted?

When I was arrested, I knew I wasn’t alone. While in prison, I was sure that people were following up on my situation. Even when I was taken to the police station, the chief looked down from the window in surprise and said, “Close the door, her supporters are gathering outside!” I could hear the stones being thrown as people passed by, protesting by banging on the police station door. After my release, I learned that many people had messaged, concerned about my well-being. These shows of support were very important to me because they made me realize my work wasn’t in vain, and my voice had reached many. These events showed me that the community and underground artists still care for each other and stand by one another. The support I received gave me the motivation to continue with even more strength and determination.

Your lyrics often include coarse language, references to drugs, and sexual themes. What message is behind this harsh language, and why do you use it to express your views?

Rap, for me, is a branch of music, and like any other branch, there are those who bluff and those who speak the truth. In my songs, I am myself; I don’t pretend to be something or someone I’m not. If I’m protesting, I’m not going to call my audience in a romantic tone. Rap, for me, is a battlefield—a place where you have to respond to the criticism and words thrown at you and come out victorious. These coarse words aren’t just words for me; they’re the voice of my anger and protest against a world that doesn’t understand me. With this language, I express the emotions of the moment and refuse to run from who I really am. Many may think this language is harsh and inappropriate, but for me, it’s the voice of reality—a reality that can’t be ignored.

As a poet and lyricist, how do you turn your personal experiences and feelings into your poems and songs? Is this process therapeutic for you?

Absolutely! Writing is a deeply personal process for me, where my experiences and feelings transform into words. When I start writing, it’s as if I’m turning all the events that have happened in my life into a story. Every poem I write is a part of me—a part of the pain, joy, and memories that will never fade. This process is therapeutic for me; it’s a way to express what weighs heavily on my heart, which I sometimes can’t speak about. Writing allows me to get closer to myself, and every time I read my words, I feel like I’m rebuilding myself. For me, every verse and song is a step toward mental and emotional freedom.

What are the social and familial challenges you face as a teenage girl in a small town? Have these challenges impacted your artistic lifestyle?

Every day brings a new story. Living in a small town, I’m constantly judged—from how I dress to why I rap. I always have to fight for everything, whether it’s about how I dress or even getting a tattoo. These restrictions have always tried to cage me, but I’ve learned that they’ve made me stronger. Growing up in such an environment has taught me that nothing can block my path unless I allow it. Even after prison, I wrote less—it was as if part of my mind was stuck in a dark place. But these challenges taught me never to give up and always fight for myself. The path hasn’t been easy, but it has shaped me into who I am today.

What keeps you going despite all the limitations and opposition? How do you remain steadfast?

Why shouldn’t I sing when I have a good voice? If I feel music is the only thing I do well, why should I give it up? I firmly believe that no one can dictate what’s right for you and what isn’t. Many may think the path I’ve chosen is wrong, but I enjoy my life. Nothing can stop me from singing—not fear, not opposition, not limitations. Every time I’ve doubted myself, I’ve remembered why I chose this path. For me, music is everything, and I can’t live without it. Every time I step on stage or start writing, I feel like I’m showing a part of myself to the world, and nothing is more valuable than that.

What message do your tattoos, style, and lifestyle as part of your artistic identity convey to society?

Each of my tattoos has a story, and each one represents a part of me that I’ll never regret. My tattoos, my style, and my lifestyle all reflect that I don’t have to look or behave like anyone else. Everyone has the right to be themselves, regardless of others’ judgments. When someone asks me why I got this tattoo or why I dress this way, I smile and say that everyone has their own taste. I love my tattoos because each one reminds me of a moment in my life that mattered to me. My message to others is that no one should tell you how to live or what to do. Everyone should listen to their inner voice and take pride in who they are. I always want to be myself and enjoy the path I’ve chosen, no matter how hard it may be.

Do you feel that your gender has been an obstacle to your musical progress? If so, how do you overcome these barriers?

Yes, I can’t deny that my gender has created obstacles in my path many times. For example, no matter how hard I try, I can’t get a license to sing, let alone in this protest rap style. I always have to be cautious that the police or security forces aren’t monitoring our meetings and sessions. I’ve seen others arrested just because of my presence, and that weight has always been on my shoulders. But I’ve learned to create my own space, where I can sing and rap without fear. To overcome these barriers, I try to maintain small, close-knit circles and avoid public spaces. I won’t stop singing because I know this is my path, and nothing can quell my passion. Gender, for me, is not an obstacle but rather a motivation to show that a girl can thrive in this space and make her voice heard.

What does your generation, known as the 2000s (Dahe Hashtadi), have to say, and how do you intend to bring about social change?

The 2000s generation is a group that no longer wants to live by old patterns and limitations. This generation refuses to be judged based on gender, religion, or even the way they dress or their beliefs. For us, gender restrictions, gender stereotypes, and societal impositions have no place anymore. The 2000s generation is more analytical and sensitive to their surroundings, seeking new and different ways to live. We don’t want to live by old routines and are looking for ways to break free from outdated and oppressive structures. We believe in change, and we know that if something is to change, it has to start with us. This generation wants to challenge everyone and tell them that the way of life should be free and chosen by each individual. We no longer accept others deciding for us; we want to make our own decisions.

How did your experience in prison and the “Women, Life, Freedom” movement impact your outlook and activities? Has this experience been inspirational for you?

Prison was an experience that changed my life forever. I was the first 18-year-old girl to be sent to Bushehr’s women’s prison, and there I saw good people who were imprisoned just for protesting and expressing their beliefs. This experience taught me that the worst they can do is imprison us, and I’m no longer afraid of even that. The “Women, Life, Freedom” movement has been a major source of inspiration for me. Seeing girls and women courageously protesting in the streets and fighting for their rights gave me hope and motivation. I believe that nothing can push us back. The more they try to suppress us, the stronger we become. This movement taught me never to give up on our demands. These experiences showed me that I’m not alone, and my voice is part of a larger wave seeking to change society.

Why did you decide to distance yourself from social media after being released from prison? Was this a conscious choice?

After being released from prison, I felt like I had lost part of myself. For a long time, I couldn’t write or even remember my lyrics. Every day in prison, I recited my lyrics to myself, but once I was freed, it was as if something inside me had shut down. I felt helpless and distanced myself from social media because I didn’t want to be the center of attention. I was afraid of being under pressure again, which could also affect my family. But as time passed and I realized that there were still people who believed in me and supported me, I decided to return to social media and continue stronger than before. This distance was a form of self-protection to regain my energy and return to the stage with greater power.

What kind of support do you see as necessary from the community and artistic institutions for artists like yourself? Do you think enough support exists?

Unfortunately, support for underground artists is minimal, and you could even say that there’s more obstruction and disdain than support. For artists like me who are involved in protest genres, there’s no support at all, and we’re constantly under pressure and threat. We need suitable spaces to perform our music and release our work—support that allows us to share our art without fear of arrest and repression. Hashtags like “Art is not a crime” might be encouraging, but they’re not enough. We need the freedom to sing and protest openly without facing security threats. Supporting underground artists should be practical, including providing spaces for us to perform and release our works. But currently, instead of support, we’re facing obstacles and pressure aimed at silencing us.

What does hip-hop music offer you and your generation that makes it so popular? Is this style a form of protest?

Hip-hop for our generation is more than just music—it’s a way to freely express emotions, anger, and social concerns that no other genre can capture as vividly. Rap is a straightforward, raw language that can convey a lot in a short amount of time. For many, when they’re feeling down, they turn to traditional or old music, but when you’re full of stress and anger, nothing works as well as a good rap track. Hip-hop includes everything—from personal confessions and love to sharp protests and social critiques. This genre allows us to speak without censorship or limits, which is why it’s so appealing to us. For me and my generation, hip-hop is the voice of protest and resistance—a voice that says we’re no longer willing to stay silent.

As an underground artist, what advice would you give to those who are discouraged from pursuing the art they love due to social or familial pressures?

If you want something with all your heart, nothing should stop you. I know that social and family conditions can divert many of us from our path, but I believe that if your inner voice leads you to the art you love, you shouldn’t give it up easily. No one can dictate to you what’s right or wrong for you. Art is about finding yourself and allowing yourself to make mistakes, learn, and continue. If we all listened to others, none of us would ever achieve our dreams. To all those in difficult circumstances, I say that your art is valuable. Even if the world tells you that you can’t, believe in yourself and continue on your path. No one but you can decide for you.

Do you feel that your music and lyrics can be the voice of the new generation? If so, what needs to change for artists like you to be more visible?

Yes, I believe that my music and lyrics can be the voice of the new generation because they, like me, have similar concerns and are tired of societal limitations. For artists like me to be more visible, the first step is changing mindsets. We need to accept that art and music must be free, and artists shouldn’t be under pressure or threatened. We need spaces where we can perform publicly and without fear of repression. Artists should have designated places for meetings and live performances so they can share their work. We don’t want to stay hidden underground; we want our voices to be heard and seen by everyone. For this to happen, we need practical, real support that allows us to show our art to the world.

How do you envision your future and your music? Do you think you’ll be able to continue despite all the challenges?

I see my future on stage, singing for fans who believed in me from day one and stood by me. I know the road ahead is tough, but nothing can stop me. Every challenge I’ve faced so far has only made me stronger and more confident in myself and my art. For me, music is the only way to live, and without it, life has no meaning. I want to show everyone that nothing can prevent me from singing and speaking my truth. No matter what happens, I won’t back down, and I always remember why I chose this path. Music is everything to me, and every morning, I wake up knowing I have to fight for it.

If you had one message to give to the older generation, what would it be? What would you defend, and what changes would you demand?

If I could send one message to the older generation, it would be to respect our decisions and choices and understand that the world has changed. We no longer want to live within the old, limited frameworks. I would remind them that about 50 years ago, when they had a revolution, they made decisions that not only affected themselves but also future generations. But now it’s time for them to let us build our own lives. We don’t want to live according to outdated stereotypes and societal impositions—we want to freely choose our own paths. I would ask them to stop judging and imposing their beliefs on us, and instead, listen and understand that each generation has the right to chart its own course. Social and cultural changes are inevitable, and we want them to understand these changes and allow us to be ourselves.

Thank you for taking the time to speak with Peace Mark Monthly Magazine.