When looking back at our lives, there are figures we wish we had growing up but never did — mentors, role models, or those who truly reflected our stories.
Bea Dero, a second-generation British-Iranian photographer, is one of these rare individuals, offering the authentic representation we’ve longed for but never had. (And by “we,” I mean those of us from the SWANA community living abroad.)
In an exclusive interview, MILLE sat down with Dero to explore the powerful perspective she brings, how she challenges cultural narratives, and creates spaces for people to finally see themselves in ways they’ve always needed.
Below, a transcript of our one-on-one conversation.
MILLE: Hi Bea! How are you? Can you tell us more about your journey and how you got into this field?
Bea Dero: I’m doing great, thanks for asking! Well, I’ve always been creative, starting as a kid with a desire to be an actor. I loved performing and the element of play when workshopping ideas and developing work, but when I attended a performing arts school for sixth form, I realised I didn’t want to dedicate myself solely to acting as much as I wanted to take charge of the stories and bring my own ideas to life.
My love for directing, acting, and my connection to cinema inspired me to pursue a career as a film director. I went to university to study film, but I found the industry’s implied structure frustrating. It felt as though they were preparing me to be just another cog in the machine, and I realised I would likely have to wait decades before being given the opportunity to tell my own stories or be involved in the ones I truly cared about.
It was very systematic— “this is how it works to tell a story in this industry,” and “this is the group you’re stuck in, so this is the story you have to tell.” I didn’t want to follow that format. So, I switched to a BA in design for art direction, which I’m so grateful for, as it allowed me to explore different mediums and focus on the stories I wanted to tell as an artist from the get-go.
This is where, after experiencing significant inner resistance to telling such personal stories, I began focusing on exploring my sense of self in my work, which has since become my main source of inspiration. The more I push past my fears and dig deeper into making my work as personal as possible, the more I am deeply, spiritually serving myself, and the more it seems to connect with people. All I aim to do is make myself feel seen and loved by myself through my creations and hopefully help other people feel this too.
MW: What key stories have you covered, and what message are you trying to convey?
BD: A lot of my work right now reflects the stories I needed to see as a child. Growing up, I felt embarrassed about where I was from because I didn’t see people who looked like me in the films I watched or the girl-talk magazines I read. The only context in which I saw people who resembled me was at family gatherings. I thought that in order to succeed, I had to hide my heritage and assimilate to the girls I saw in films and TV shows. It’s sad to admit, but it took me time to accept and embrace my family’s background and to fully embrace everything that makes me who I am.
Through my work, I aim to show that being a blend of cultures is something to be proud of. I hope to continue exploring this through my own lens, highlighting how multi-faceted each individual is, rather than boxing or grouping everyone with similar heritages together. The more work I create, the more space there is for this narrative to evolve. It’s been beautiful to see how my work has impacted others, helping them see themselves and the components that make up their identity in a new light.
Bea Dero wearing traditional Qajari clothing in Tehran, Iran
MILLE: When did you realize you wanted to explore your identity more deeply?
BD: It started in my personal life before it appeared in my work. I remember, even in my final year of university, making a political documentary about Iran and taking photos without considering using them to explore my identity. My tutors recognized the potential for exploration within this realm, but at the time, I resisted it out of fear of being boxed in, and perhaps also out of fear of doing these personal stories an injustice.
It wasn’t until about a year ago that I fully embraced what I care about and decided to focus on creating and sharing what I wanted to see — pushing through any limiting fears. That’s when everything clicked. I realized that honing in on what I know, who I am, and what I have to say in this moment doesn’t close me off or box me in; it opens doors to endless possibilities. After all, I am ever-evolving, and in each new moment, I’ll have something new to share.
The journey of serving my inner needs and what excites me in each present moment could lead me anywhere.
MW: Speaking of identity, could you walk me through some examples of projects you’ve worked on that reflect your area of focus?
BD: One of my favorite pieces, and one that truly encapsulates both me and my work, is my Azadi piece, which translates to ‘freedom’ in Persian. This self-portrait will always hold a special place in my heart because it represents both personal and political freedom. The image was taken in my aunt’s village in Iran during a sunset, around the time Mahsa Amini was murdered by the morality police (give or take a few days). Her death sparked massive protests across the country, all in the hopes of a revolution.
This piece is significant to me because, although we haven’t yet reached that revolution, it symbolizes a persistent and insistent stand for freedom. It stands for everyone’s right to feel free and liberated in their way of being, in every aspect of their lives. As a second-generation immigrant, I know many people from immigrant backgrounds can relate to this longing for the freedom of home— a freedom we continue to carry with us. The yearning for freedom from oppression, poverty, or occupation is something many of us live with.
The white horse represents the hope for freedom that keeps us strong. With me, as a woman, front and center and bathed in light, it emphasizes the strength of women in this context. They are brave, standing in defiance, willing to risk everything for their right to live authentically. I’ve heard firsthand from my cousins back home about how they feel they have nothing to lose and would rather die fighting for freedom than continue living under oppressive conditions.
For many outside this struggle, it’s hard to understand, as it’s often reduced to just laws about headscarves or clothing. But it’s much deeper than that. It’s about the freedom to speak, to dance, to express oneself, and to make choices about one’s own life. In the West, we take these freedoms for granted, but for many, these are privileges they are still fighting for. This piece, then, is a symbol of hope— hope for change. It’s the faith that sustains communities across the globe amidst their struggles.
Azadi – Photography by Bea Dero with special thanks to her family.
In addition to this, I will always cherish the series of photos I took at my grandad’s house in his village in Iran during my last visit. These images are incredibly special to me, especially because I’m unsure when, or if, I’ll ever be able to return to Iran. At the time I took them, I didn’t think much of it. It was just a fleeting moment before I left, and I took the pictures casually, almost as an afterthought, most of them just before getting into the car to leave. I didn’t plan them; they were moments I instinctively felt compelled to capture.
They’ve become so precious to me now— it’s remarkable how we don’t realize what’s truly important until it’s gone. Now, my work constantly reflects the nostalgia and familiarity of these moments. They hold deep sentimental value, representing my connection to my heritage and family. Sharing them has allowed me to express my inner evolution and growing pride in revealing more of what makes me, me.
Grandad’s House – Photography by Bea Dero with special thanks to her family.
Interestingly, many people from different cultures have resonated with these images. People from Middle Eastern, North African, and even Balkan backgrounds have shared how these photos remind them of their own family homes.
The familiarity of the spaces and the warmth of the surroundings seem to transcend cultural boundaries, making these images feel universal in a way.
A significant part of my work has also been exploring the concept of self-love — both physically and spiritually. One important project I’ve worked on is Identity Through the Side Profile, which I collaborated on with Roxanna Vatandoust and Charlize Miradi. In this project, we photographed three generations of Iranian women to highlight how our features, especially our noses, are passed down through time. We later expanded this into another series, The History in Our Faces, which included individuals from various backgrounds. The focus of these projects is on the beauty of our natural features, which reflect our cultural heritage, as we carry our ancestors in our faces.
I relate to this project in so many ways because I’ve had a complex relationship with my own nose. When I was 17, I booked a nose job but ultimately talked myself out of it. The beauty standards set by the media became so real and
convincing that I began to idolize very specific features. I couldn’t see how I could ever love my nose, but I also didn’t feel right about changing my face to meet those expectations.
It wasn’t an easy decision, especially with pressure from family and society, but over time, I’ve learned to accept my natural features. This healing journey has been deeply influenced by the people I’ve been capturing in my work.
Photographing other people and seeing the beauty in their natural noses has helped me learn to appreciate my own. It’s been a journey, and while I still have moments of doubt, I now see my nose as something that makes me unique and beautiful. It connects me to my family, my culture, and my heritage — something I now take pride in.
On a more spiritual side of my self-love journey, my project For All My Sisters depicts a grown, strong, capable, and powerful version of myself showing up for my younger child self— who is more vulnerable and in need of guidance and protection. The ‘L’ plate on the motorbike serves as a little reminder to give grace to present-day me too. While I’m stronger and wiser, I’m still learning and growing.
For All My Sisters – Photographed by Bea Dero and styled by Charlize Miradi, with Riyam Salim pictured left and Eman Alali pictured right.
I’ve also just completed a new self-portrait piece that shows me standing with my younger self. I see my inner child as a part of me today. I often see her in me, and I continue to try my best to serve her each day.
Self-Portrait – Makeup by Lara Nasamu, with photo assistance from Alice Elizabeth [Photography by Bea Dero]
MW: Looking ahead, do you have any exciting projects on the horizon?
BD: In the past year, I’ve been documenting the SWANA diaspora, exploring the intersection of Western and Eastern cultural identities within this community. One such project, When Joy Emerges, the Spirit Rejoices, was created in collaboration with Roxanna and Charlize.
When Joy Emerges, The Spirit Rejoices – Co-creative direction by Roxanna Vatandoust, Charlize Miradi, and Bea Dero, styled by Charlize Miradi, photographed by Bea Dero, with gaffer and photo assistance from Ché Deedigan, featuring models Hannah, Naaz, Salomé, Drew, Mehdi, Bea, Melika, Swaran, Maitham, Neusha, and Shamim.
When Joy Emerges, The Spirit Rejoices – Co-creative direction by Roxanna Vatandoust, Charlize Miradi, and Bea Dero, styled by Charlize Miradi, photographed by Bea Dero, with gaffer and photo assistance from Ché Deedigan, featuring models Hannah, Naaz, Salomé, Drew, Mehdi, Bea, Melika, Swaran, Maitham, Neusha, and Shamim.
This representation was incredibly important for me to create, but being part of the SWANA diaspora is about more than just ourselves. Looking ahead, I want to explore even further the culture I’m so grateful for in London, a city that is a melting pot of diverse cultures, communities, and individuals.
These wide-ranging influences have greatly shaped, and continue to shape, my identity. I want to delve deeper into this and pay tribute to more of these influences. I’m excited to explore all the different aspects of myself and the people that I connect with.
I’m also preparing for my debut solo show, where I’ll be displaying my latest work in a physical exhibition. I’m excited to share this new chapter soon.
All photos are courtesy of Bea Dero.
