“The Invisible Slap of Reality” – An Interview with Columbia Film Student Kam Vazir

What is more powerful than a story? Stories shape and mold our perspectives and have the power to change our lives. Columbia film student Kamyar “Kam” Vazir knows this, and now, with graduation approaching, he seeks to capitalize on the power of storytelling to express his creativity as a force for unity and empathy.

Kam’s story is remarkable to hear and serves as a testament to what the arts can achieve in impacting a person’s life. As a gay man born under what he describes as the “polluted skies of Tehran,” Kam used film, music, and media as therapy to overcome his troubled upbringing under the Iranian regime. From an early age, Kam was discouraged from pursuing the arts. Still, he found solace in watching movies and inventing stories for his toys. His mindset was not aligned with his family or Iranian society, so family members, classmates, and the Iranian regime itself engaged in emotional and psychological abuse against him. Kam knew that he could be killed for his homosexuality and was forced into conversion therapy in what was one of the darkest points in his life.

Considering this horrific upbringing, it is all the more inspiring to see how Kam has escaped his circumstances and is now on the verge of graduating with a bachelor’s degree in film and media studies. Although he is moving forward, Kam still holds onto the hopelessness he once felt, using it as motivation to tell his stories and create an impact that gives voice to the voiceless. Inspired by the current women-led revolution in Iran, following the death of Mahsa Jina Amini, Kam’s creative philosophy aims to be a ray of light toward a better future.

You describe yourself as a curious child who made up stories for your toys and imagined dialogue in movies you couldn’t understand. What do you think that early imagination reveals about the storyteller you’ve become?

As a kid, I was drawn to stories without noticing them. I had a creative mind from the beginning. It wasn’t just making up stories for my toys; it was also seeing things differently. I also loved drawing and painting; those were my avid activities. It wasn’t until I was 10 or 11 that I thought it could lead to me writing stories. By the time I was 14, I had experienced alienation in Iran from my family, schoolmates, and teachers; the only way I found solace was through music and singing songs I connected with. It was relieving, and I thought about how helpful it was, which inspired me to write poems and story ideas. During the depths of my depression and feeling like I had no way out, turning to this media was what helped me.

You write that you “traded being different in Iran for being different in America in a whole new way.” How have those two experiences of “difference” influenced the kind of stories you want to tell?

The one thing that stands out to me through all of this is that there are people similar to me, and even if not, the people that stand out have the potential to be understood. Many don’t understand that it’s easy to bash someone when you don’t understand them. It’s easy to impact something you fear, and that’s what goes behind the psychology of something you fear – you want to get rid of it. I think of people who are like me, who feel outcast and misunderstood. I want to channel diverse perspectives and incorporate them into the art I create. I’m not expecting to make an immediate impact, but curiosity leads to better things. People need to find common ground, but how are we supposed to find that without a mutual understanding of each other? That said, I hold mistakes and prejudices accountable, but that doesn’t mean it’s a difference; it’s a step down. Prejudice can be resolved through empathy and understanding.

When did film – specifically filmmaking – become the medium through which you wanted to tell your story?

2022. By this point, I saw Iran’s regime killing its own people for trying to live equally. I always wanted to work in a creative field, and I was studying music at the time, but I realized that it wouldn’t lead me to the trajectory I wanted. I was channeling all my energy toward the lives of protestors and people who were stuck in Iran. In preparation for creating that, and standing in solidarity with protesters, I wanted to create promotional content and highlight the diversity that my community college was talking about. Through that process, I realized that I have a passion for filmmaking. After years of watching people being killed, manipulated, jailed, and raped, I looked at my past and realized that I am the product of everything I consumed. If I hadn’t been exposed to certain media, I wouldn’t be who I am, and it made me think about how I can influence others.

What makes a story powerful enough to create change?

What makes a story powerful is – as cliché as it sounds – when you make people feel something that’s beyond the idea of joy or even sadness. I call it the “Invisible Slap of Reality.” If that happens, something within you moves. Symbolically, you begin questioning the world and yourself, what has happened and what hasn’t, what you understood and what you don’t. You think about what you’ve previously known and what you must learn from now on. Many unique stories in the world deserve to be heard beyond the paradigms of dominant culture. The weight of those stories, as heavy as they can be, can be a shock to the system.

You write about being prosecuted in Iran and sent to conversion therapy – a moment of profound trauma. How has filmmaking helped you heal or reclaim your narrative after those experiences?

Filmmaking didn’t help me heal; watching films did. Consuming media after that phase helped me put that chapter behind me and allowed me to accept myself in ways I was internally battling. Filmmaking is not a tool I use all the time to heal. I use music more frequently. With filmmaking, I’m trying to convey something to people. I may change my mind on this eventually, but right now, I don’t want to use filmmaking to reflect on my life and heal; I use it to make an impact.

You wrote that “stories have power” — that they can inspire revolution and give voice to the voiceless. What kind of impact do you hope your films will have?

A boy can dream, and I have many dreams of making an impact. I hope I can inspire bravery within the people of my country. Bravery skips generations, and I’ve seen in my life how that’s so. It’s important to fight for what you believe in, not just in Iran, but everywhere. I want to echo the stories of people who’ve lived through the rubble and dug themselves out. The notion of empathy and being able to understand people opens certain doors. I want to minimize hate as much as possible. People are divided, and it’s a scary time for me, but I want to create more unity.

The current women-led movement in Iran clearly means a lot to you. Do you see your future films engaging directly with that revolution or with those who have sacrificed for freedom?

I’m not sure. Last year, The Seed of the Sacred Fig did a solid job of echoing what was happening in Iran in 2022. The movement has somewhat succeeded and hasn’t, but the things I want to say are not limited to women. My focus is also on the underground: the limited LGBTQ community in Iran, who live in bravery and fear. I want to talk about the kids who are beaten up in religious settings and how much that limits their potential. If you want to convey a message, you must wait for the right time, and that’s not now. Currently, sexism and patriarchy are in fashion, and there will be hard pushback. When the time is right, and I can give a small nudge, I would love to contribute.

How has your experience at Columbia shaped or refined your artistic vision? Is there anything you’re currently working on or developing?

I didn’t know anything about filmmaking before coming to Columbia, so it was a crash course. I struggled with finding a community, but I took classes with great instructors. They made it worth being here, but facing discrimination from the administration made it difficult. That said, it reinforced why I want to help people understand each other. I felt outcast and rejected in ways I haven’t felt since high school. I’ve been collecting news clips since Donald Trump won the 2024 election. One of my goals right now is to expose hypocrisy, especially within the GOP. Showing how their illiteracy controls people is essential to me. The reality is not over yet, and this story is far from being done, so I’m continuously working on it. It shows me how much we need to connect and understand more than ever.