How Female Vendors in Tehran's Metro are Forced Underground
“It is like working in a mine; you use subways for commuting, but we have to work underground for at least seven hours,” said Soudabeh, a young woman who works as a peddler in the Tehran Metro. To protect her anonymity, I have changed her name, along with those of all the women interviewed here.
The number of female vendors working in the subway is growing, but no official statistics record how many there are. They are an integral part of the daily life of Tehran Metro: circulating among passengers with bags containing cosmetics, socks, clothes, sandwiches, books, and more. Most female vendors work in the front and rear wagons of the trains, normally designated for women. Despite the efforts of municipal authorities and police to curb their activities, they persist in utilising the public transportation system as a workplace.
Women marginalised from Iran’s formal economy resort to making a living in the subway. Soudabeh is one of the thousands of female vendors. She is divorced and living with her mother. Peddling is only a secondary occupation for Soudabeh, who has been working since high school. She is a fitness trainer and works mornings in a gym, but her wages from that job are not sufficient to meet the household’s needs, so she must also work underground, in the metro.
Making ends meet requires Soudabeh to work even on holidays. She underscores the significance of financial independence for women: “A woman who has income can decide for herself. Women should have the capacity to tackle their challenges in society. If a woman who has a job gets divorced, she will not tell herself I burned all the bridges behind me and do not have a way to survive.”
In the past, children often took their parents’ place in a family business. Today, however, when all they may inherit is poverty, they follow their mothers into the metro to earn money.
Ala has not gone to university because she thinks it is futile for her future. Her mother’s twelve years of work in the subway became Ala’s path, too. Still, she considers working in the subway to be better than having an employer: “Working for yourself is better than working for other people. An employer might not provide me with a steady income. My friend’s employer did not pay her because his store did not sell for a month. Here, in the subway, you have your daily earnings.”
Flexible working hours and being your own boss are motives that many female vendors emphasise when asked why they do the job. Faced with patriarchal norms in society that expects women to do housework and take care of children, leading to a dearth of employment opportunities, they have little choice but to be self-employed. Mona sells bags and hats. She suffered from domestic violence and recently got divorced. Born in Mashhad, she has worked since she was twelve years old when she had to quit school because her family could not afford to keep her in education. She migrated to Tehran after her marriage. After several years working in a restaurant, Mona had to change her job and became a subway vendor: “I worked in a restaurant. I love socializing with people. When I worked there, my passion for the job was so intense that customers thought it was my restaurant. However, I had to quit my job due to my circumstances. Daily responsibilities such as picking up my daughter at school make flexible working hours in the subway a practical choice to me.”
Economic instability is one of their persistent concerns. Many have to go to the bazaar daily to acquire goods, and they face escalating prices influenced by the fluctuating value of the US dollar. Tara resides in Navab and has a bachelor’s degree in IT. She sells rhinestones and jewlery, purchasing some of her goods from the bazaar while others are hand-made. She expresses concern about escalating dollar prices: “I remember when the dollar suddenly surged to fifteen thousand tomans. I got so stressed that I failed all of the final exams. Why should I be worried about the dollar’s price?! If prices were stable, we would not endure this relentless pressure.”
Rising prices are a concern because vendors do not have much capital to stockpile goods. Indeed, the minimal initial outlay requirement is one of the reasons women choose this job. Tara, struggling to find an IT job in a company, took goods from her brother, also a vendor, to the subway to sell. “My mom works in people’s homes. I did not want to depend on her financially anymore. My mom is exhausted. I pondered how I would make money to assist her. So, I decided to work. Observing young women like myself work in the subway, I thought, ‘Why not me? Why do I not work?’ One day, I went to the metro but could not sell anything. I felt shy. But after four months, I could not bear the financial strain. I brought some of my brothers’ goods on the subway. A female vendor guided me. I told her, ‘I cannot advertise because I feel shy.’ She assured me she would teach me. We sold all the tops together, and its profits became my initial capital. After that, I brought chewing gum, and now I sell rhinestones.”
Sanctions contribute to an economic crisis that has exerted the greatest pressure on the lower classes. Forouzan resides with her family downstairs in her mother-in-law’s home in a disadvantaged district of Tehran. She sells scarves to make ends meet. The night before we spoke, she had learned she was pregnant. She was thinking about whether to keep her baby or have an abortion. Her husband works in a relative’s shop. His salary is insufficient, so both must work to cover their needs. Forouzan has a bachelor’s degree in economics and had worked in a bakery before vending on the subway. She observes the economic strain on the lower classes: “I think the elite become richer following shocks such as sanctions and surges in the dollar price. Their properties, homes, and cars become more valuable, but people like us become more and more vulnerable.”
One of the most formidable challenges female vendors face is daily confrontation with municipal agents and police officers. The officers try various tactics to expel the peddlers, such as confiscating vendors’ goods. Despite these challenges, the women continue their work, but they feel the pressure of such daily stresses. One female vendor wondered, “If they become successful in preventing us from working one day, what will happen to my family and me?”
To prevent the agents from confiscating their goods, women have developed ways to outwit them. In central stations like Khomeini, where there are greater numbers of officers, they do not get out of wagons. Some pretend they are passengers. Others employ strategies like concealing goods under a chador or in their bags.
Yalda and her husband both work in the subway. Yalda sells underwear. “I know which stations have more agents and avoid getting off there,” she explains.
The stories of these women show them grappling with patriarchal norms, state policies, and economic precarity. They also show the men in their lives worried about losing their bargaining power if their wives earn wages. Paradoxically, harsh financial circumstances often compel them to accept women’s economic role.
Yalda’s husband did not allow her to register at university. However, their financial problems meant she was able to convince him to allow her to work. Eventually, compelled to quit his job when they failed to pay his salary, he too stepped into the work Yalda had begun, and now they make a living together as peddlars.
The state expects women to perform traditional roles, to be good wives and mothers. Policies reinforce conventional gender roles, and the home is deemed the most appropriate sphere for women. Female vendors’ experiences in their daily confrontations with authorities make it clear that the Islamic Republic’s policies not only fail to create formal job opportunities for women, but they actively work to exclude women from their hard-won informal employment.
I conducted these interviews in Tehran’s metro in 2019 and 2020. I talked to 111 female vendors. I immersed myself in their world and observed them working, escaping, and trying to survive. I sat beside them when they were working on station platforms, accompanied them inside wagons, and witnessed their escape strategies from the police and how they navigated challenges to their survival. I have been honored to listen to their stories and document their resistance.
With both economic sanctions and government policies hurting their prospects, female vendors are fighting on both domestic and foreign fronts to sustain their livelihoods.
Photo: IRNA
