The narrative biography of Samaneh, written by Samaneh Shabani and edited by Hind Akil Haidar for ADC.
The postman knocks on the door. I know it's for me — a canvas bag holding one or two Braille books. I am building my world slowly; or, better said, it is growing up alongside me. Every eight days, without fail, the postman is there. He has no idea that what he's carrying is the material for my entire world. Thanks to the good work of blind activists of the older generations, I could now borrow Braille or audio books from big libraries all over Iran.
Roudaki Center for the Blind, One of Iran’s oldest and largest specialized libraries for blind people. A producer and distributor of Braille books and audiobooks.
Samaneh at her graduation.
At 19, I joined the faculty of Law, with new hopes of a new life. I passed my courses one by one, and admittedly, not always with shining grades. But something was missing; I was not yet in my world. Civil law, trade law, criminal law, they all felt so disconnected from me. And then, international law and human rights. Finally, I had found it. International justice systems particularly captured my attention. I focused on the work of the International Court of Justice, international criminal law, and human rights committees. This work was inspiring but the inspiration didn’t last forever.
By 2015.I am struggling to find a genuine, meaningful research topic for my PhD dissertation. I read, I wrote, and then deleted over and over again. Finally, I found it.
When the UN Committee on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities adopts General Comment No. 3 on women and girls with disabilities, opening up the intersectionality of gender and disability, it triggers in me another deeply cherished value: justice. That is how the core idea of my dissertation took shape, and I found myself writing about domestic violence against women and girls with disabilities and their access to justice in international human rights law, with a focus on Iran. This later became the title of my book, published in Persian in 2021.
I wanted to be in the room, not only on the shelf.
My first home in activism was the Disability Association of Tavana, an organisation of persons with disabilities in Iran. I worked as a legal consultant and researcher there, translating the CRPD and the Sustainable Development Goals into training that staff and member organisations could actually use. It was the first time my research left the page and became something people could utilize into their own advocacy.
Samaneh Shabani attends the SVRI Forum in Cape Town, South Africa. Photo: Spotlight Initiative
From there, I moved into a UN consultancy with UNDP, back in Iran, to help build a national plan for disability inclusion — a plan with signatures on it, not just recommendations. Government representatives, UN agencies, and organisations of persons with disabilities sat at the same table for this. For the first time, I watched an idea I had researched turn into a document that institutions were actually held accountable to. In that period, I also completed a fellowship with the Center for Inclusive Policy, where my research focused on community support services in higher education in Iran. CIP became something like a home, and even now, as former fellows, we keep learning from each other.
It was only after this that I joined the European Disability Forum, in Brussels, as Women's Rights Officer. There, I wrote the organisation's third manifesto on the rights of women and girls with disabilities. Its core idea was leadership, not representation: not simply including women with disabilities in existing structures, but recognising them as the ones who should be leading the conversation about their own rights. This is also where I learned something harder to accept: the distance we still need to travel is not only outside the disability rights movement, but inside it too. Organisations built to represent persons with disabilities can still leave women, and their leadership, in the background. Fixing that is not someone else's task. It is ours.
Today, I represent the voices of women and girls with disabilities at a global level, as a civil society representative on the Global Reference Group of the UN Spotlight Initiative. The argument I keep making there is a simple one: inclusion cannot be an afterthought bolted onto a finished plan. It has to start from scratch, from the first line of a budget. If the needs of women and girls with disabilities are not built into prevention work and into the response to violence from the very beginning, they will not be added later. They will simply be missing.
Brussels became my second homeland only a few months after I arrived. It was here that I met the love of my life. We turned out to want the same thing, in the end: a world that is a little fairer. Even a little is enough to start with.
Samaneh Shabani, centre, receives an award from the University of Tehran, where she did her Ph.D. work on access to justice for women and girls with disabilities facing domestic violence
It is also in Brussels that my work took its current shape. Today, I work as a Senior Consultant with Agile Development Consulting — a consultant, trainer, and strategic advisor on gender equality and disability inclusion, doing research, monitoring and evaluation, and strategy planning. Alongside this, I also work part-time on digital accessibility with the European Commission, which keeps the geek in me quietly happy. I am also a certified trainer with the International Labour Organization.
We don't wait for the flame. We become it.
Samaneh in Iran with classmates
There is an old story, The Old Street Lamp, about a lamp that carries magic inside it for a lifetime — magic no one notices until the very end, almost by accident. I used to read it as a story about patience. I no longer do.
Rumi wrote: تو یکی نهای، هزاری، تو چراغ خود برافروز — you are not one, you are a thousand; light your own lamp. I did not wait for someone to notice the world I was building, book by book, brief by brief, from the day the postman first knocked on my door. I lit it myself. That is what I ask of the work I do now: not to wait for institutions to notice what women and girls with disabilities carry inside them, but to insist that they look — and where they won't look on their own, to light the lamp anyway.
Iranian children's books in braille