I am not the only one who’s not diligently following or watching or caring about the Olympics. But when Iran won its fourth gold medal a few days ago, holding rank 11 (14 as of today), I cheered. I glanced at the many photos my Iranian friends and family were uploading and sharing, and couldn’t help but feel elated. The men wearing those medals looked so familiar, so happy, so tired, I thought. I know doing what they did is physically debilitating, but I mean, their eyes were exhausted. It’s perhaps my own projection of what it must feel living with soaring prices due to sanctions (chicken has become a luxury), and bearing the heavy gaze of other countries fearing your nation for many true and untrue reasons. The insecurity; The social limitations imposed on every single aspect of life because of a religiously-interpreted constitution. The tension; The political uncertainty of upcoming presidential elections, the last of which ignited a mass opposition movement protesting the results, and the following government backlash, serial imprisonments of citizens, journalists, and politicians, and the horror stories of what went (goes) on behind prison bars.

Social media was riveting with proud national sentiments. Earlier that day the Iranian government had announced its support and commitment to Syria’s president Bashar Al Asad. If you haven’t heard what’s been unraveling for the past 17 months and how many thousand Syrians have been killed as the country enters a state of civil war, well, I recommend finding out– With a box of tissues. The Iranian support was not really a surprise, but more so embarrassing for Iranians who are aware of the bloodshed that Asad’s regime has caused, denied, and now is adamant to finish and wipe off as it escalates. The rebel fighters are not innocent, but the power imbalance between the two groups is evident.

But hey, it’s the Olympics, and politics need not make us soar during this short symbolically symbiotic instant, right?
Someone, and not the only one, immediately criticised the vocal cheerleaders, “You guys didn’t win anything. Some athletes did. Why are you so proud?” he updated his status from Iran. “The problem with us Iranians is that we just sit at home and wait for other people to do good…” he added.

But…but…

Ok. If we are critiquing nationalism and dismissing it as relevant or real, surely, for a citizen of a country like Iran, the passport of which will take you to only a few nations without a visa (Syria being one, of course), the very real weight of nation-states is tangible, isn’t it?
And if being proud of one’s nationality is banal, then being resentful of it (“us Iranians”) is even more, isn’t it?

Of course, when we say team Great Britain or Jamaica or Canada “won a medal”, we don’t actually mean the entire nation trained, competed, and beat their fellow athletes. We mean a few people, with the fortune or misfortune of belonging to a certain country, participated in an overly-commercialised, historic gathering of members of the international community, and excelled in their field. Many of these individuals sacrificed a lot to get there, some were born privileged– but no one can deny the gruelling dedication it takes to master your body like that.
“If on their return, the gold medal holders were obliged to visit the Supreme Leader and other officials, please don’t criticise them, they probably have to,” tweeted someone, trying to prevent the excitement from turning bitter, given the delicacies of dealing with Iran’s hierarchy of power.
And the moment was gone.

There were similar arguments when Asghar Farhadi’s A Separation won an Oscar, among other awards, just this year. At the moment, the lead actress of the film is facing a travel-ban, because one of the dresses she wore to red carpet ceremonies abroad was deemed to be ‘unIslamic’.
And the moment is gone.

I lived in Iran for 14 years, another 10 in Canada, and now I’m here in London surrounded by Olympic circles. I have three reasons to raise a glass when any of them wins. Iran’s received 10 medals so far– an unprecedented number.
But how “Iranian” of me, to feel…something, for these guys getting a news headline that was sans-nuclear, sans-war. And how unsurprisingly human of us all to paint our faces with colours and cheer or cry for other people’s hits or misses.

Drums of war are beating and for a few moments, screams of joy are louder. So, I’m sorry, what was the problem again?