Faravaz‘ musikalische Reise begann im Iran, wo Sologesang für Frauen verboten war und sie rechtlich gesehen nur als Backgroundsängerin auftreten durfte. „Jedes Mal, wenn ich zu einem Konzert ging, habe ich geweint“, erinnert sie sich. Sie wurde als Untergrundsängerin aktiv, nutzte Social Media, um ihre Musik zu verbreiten. Das führte zu ihrer Verhaftung und sie war gezwungen, ins Exil zu fliehen. In Berlin startete sie ihre Karriere neu, und ist nun kurz vor der Veröffentlichung ihres Debütalbums! Mit kraftvollen, provokanten Texten in Englisch und einer einzigartigen Mischung aus alternativer Popmusik und orientalischen Elementen gibt sie ihrer Geschichte und ihrem Aktivismus eine Stimme. Wir haben mit ihr über all das im Interview gesprochen.
Faravaz im Interview
Anna: Hey Faravaz, I hope you’re good! Since not everyone will know you, do you want to introduce yourself in a few sentences?
Hi! I’m Faravaz, an Iranian singer, composer, and activist currently living in exile in Berlin. My journey began in Tehran, where making music as a woman was nearly impossible. But I’ve never been able to stay silent – my voice is my weapon, and through music, I fight for freedom, justice, and the right to simply exist as we are.
You are now releasing your very first debut album but your path to it has been the opposite of an easy one. Before we get into that though, how did you find your love for music? What is it in music that touches your soul and makes you not want to do anything else?
In school singing for other students and in the car for my parents and sister when we were on the road. They loved me singing and that’s how I learned that I have a voice for singing.
Music was always my escape. Even as a little girl, when I wasn’t allowed to sing in public, I would hum melodies to myself, imagining a world where I could be heard. Music doesn’t just express my emotions – it becomes them. It’s my way of surviving pain, celebrating resilience, and connecting with something deeper than words.
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„I had no choice but to go into exile.“
Growing up as a woman in Iran, you being were heavily restricted from making music and singing on stage – unless you performed as a background singer. How did you deal with that struggle?
It was heartbreaking. Being told that your voice is a threat just because you’re a woman – it stays with you. But I never gave in to silence. I performed underground, behind closed doors, wherever I could. And I always knew: one day, I would sing freely. It always made me cry watching my male friends on stage singing in Iran!
And I never could understand what is the difference between our voices. But also was hard to see that most of the men in my country didn’t really stand for us female singers. We were their friends, fan and colleagues…
Were you scared for rebelling the restrictions by going into the underground? How did your family and friends react?
Of course I was scared. Every performance felt like a risk. But I couldn’t live in fear forever. My family was torn – some were terrified for me, others proud. But they all knew: music is who I am.
What happened then?
Eventually, the fear caught up with me. I was arrested, interrogated, threatened and sentenced to one year of prison because of only singing. I knew I couldn’t stay if I wanted to keep creating, so i had to decide between going to prison or living in exile. So I left Iran. I had no choice but to go into exile.
„It fuels my fire.“
You’re living in exile in Berlin for a couple of years now. How did the city welcome you? What are the things you miss most about Teheran?
You continued to make music here, already releasing a couple of songs the last years. One of them is Ey Iran. What are the things you’re telling your home country in that song? Does it make you more angry or more sad?
Ey Iran is my love letter and my cry. It’s filled with grief – for what we’ve lost – and rage, for what we continue to endure. It makes me sad, yes, but mostly it fuels my fire. I sing it with hope that one day we can return to a free Iran.
Another song is Enemy Of God, where you sing “If god gave a man all the power | Then why you killing women like a coward | Condemn us to death from your tower”. How would you describe your relationship to religion?
My relationship to religion is not good. I grew up surrounded by faith used as a tool for oppression. I believe religion always been weaponized against human specially women, flinta and queer people, and I also believe patriarchy needs religion to create more borders, taboos, hate and war! This song was dedicated by me to all the political prisoners who stands for humanity and dignity all around the world.
„Azadi is my story: pain, resistence, rebirth.“
You also continue to be very passionate about human rights, especially for women and queer communities in the Middle East. As the founder of the non-profit organisation The Right to Sing e.V., you fight to make marginalised groups heard. What can you tell us about that?
The Right to Sing is more than an organisation – it’s a movement. We work to give voice to those forced into silence. Whether you’re a woman, queer, exiled, or censored, your voice matters. We create platforms, offer workshops, and build communities that reclaim the right to be loud. Also sponsoring Iranian and Afghan female singers who are still living in Iran and Afghanistan.
On May 11th you will finally release your debut album Azadi (Freedom in Farsi) – how excited are you for the release? What are the things that were the most fun but also challenging when making it?
’m beyond excited—it still doesn’t feel real. Azadi is my story: pain, resistance, rebirth. The fun part was collaborating with other artists who felt the same fire. The hard part? Revisiting my traumas to turn them into sound. But that’s also what made it healing.
„This isn’t just a concert – it’s a celebration of survival.“
On the same day, May 11th, you will perform the release concert in SO36 – it will be a beyond special moment for you, I’m sure. You’re also premiering your documentary The Orange Garden, a film that captures your imprisonment, exile and resilience. What would you tell people, who haven’t got a ticket yet – what will make this evening so special that they should come?
You come to my concert to celebrate my residence, a women who is singing at her first solo concert after 35 years!
I have fight with my love to see this moment.
This isn’t just a concert – it’s a celebration of survival. It’s a night where every note carries a story of defiance. The documentary is deeply personal, and I’ve never shared this much before. If you want to witness the truth behind the headlines, and feel the power of freedom in music – come. Be part of it.
For our last question we always ask for an untold story – is there something you haven’t told in an interview before and want to get off your chest now? Could be literally anything.
Honestly I am truly scared and stressed when I am thinking about my future and my music career in exile!
To be weird, loud and straight to the point! Already being a refugee, woman, fat and a person in colour make it hard to have peace and safety. And my music and character might make it even more scary…
But that’s my goal in my life. To live and be myself as it’s possible.
Fotocredit: Beyond Binary
