If you’ve ever wondered, “Is it too late for me to...” the answer’s NO—and The Uplifters are about to show you why. This space is for purpose-driven women who want to do big, brave things in the second half of their lives. I’m your host, Aransas Savas, and I’ve spent the last 20 years at the intersection of behavior change research and coaching.
This month for the new year, we're exploring new beginnings with award-winning author Sahar Delijani, Dawn Veselka who co-founded Cards2Warriors (sending over 48,000 cards of hope to people battling chronic illness), perimenopause expert Karissa Pfeffer, and comedian-filmmaker Mandy Fabian. Welcome to the Uplifters!
Listen to this episode if...
You’re carrying stories that feel too big, too painful, or too important to keep inside
You’ve felt paralyzed by the question “who am I to write this/say this/share this?”
You’re looking for courage to do something big and brave this year
Most of us will never face the kind of capital C Courage that Sahar Delijani writes about, even though lately it doesn’t feel far off. The kind where speaking your beliefs can cost you your freedom, your family, your life.
I’ve spent years studying courage, coaching women through their biggest transitions, and interviewing hundreds of people doing brave things. But this conversation taught me so much about the ways great big acts of courage inform the little daily ones, and vice-versa.
Sahar writes about people who faced imprisonment, execution, and systematic persecution. But telling their stories? That took a different kind of courage entirely. The daily kind. The kind that shows up when you’re sitting at your laptop, terrified, wondering who gave you permission to tell these stories. The kind that requires you to keep going when every voice in your head says you’re not ready, you’re betraying secrets, you don’t have the right.
That’s the courage most of us actually need to learn: how to do the thing we feel called to do even when we’re scared, how to tell the truth even when we were taught to keep it hidden, how to take up space with our voices, our stories, our work, especially in midlife when so much of the world tells us our time has passed.
So when Sahar Delijani, whose debut novel Children of the Jacaranda Tree has been translated into 32 languages and published in more than 75 countries, agreed to talk with me, I wanted to understand: How does witnessing extraordinary Courage inform the ordinary courage we need every day? How do you build the stamina to keep doing brave things when the work requires revisiting trauma again and again? And what can those of us doing “smaller” brave things (career changes, creative pursuits, truth-telling in our own lives) learn from someone who’s documenting capital-C Courage?
Turns out: everything.
Her Story
Sahar grew up in the aftermath of the 1979 Iranian revolution, in the shadow of her family’s activism and imprisonment. Her parents were among thousands arrested in 1983 for their political beliefs. Her mother was pregnant at the time. Sahar was born in Evin prison, Tehran’s notorious political prison, and spent her first month there before her grandparents raised her alongside her brother and cousin (also born in prison).
The 1988 mass executions took her uncle’s life while her parents, fortunately, had already been released. But the trauma didn’t end when her parents came home. It lived in the silence, in the things they couldn’t talk about, in the ways their imprisonment shaped every aspect of their lives even after their release.
For years, Sahar didn’t talk about any of it either. Moving to California at age 12 meant geographic distance from Iran, but it also meant the stories stayed locked away. It wasn’t until she decided to write Children of the Jacaranda Tree that she began to unlock those stories, not just for herself, but for others who lived through similar experiences around the world.
The book chronicles the lives of families affected by political imprisonment in Iran, weaving together stories of life inside prison walls and the ripple effects on everyone outside them. It follows children born into this tragedy, including those born in prison like Sahar, as they grow up and decide what to do with the legacy of their parents’ courage and sacrifice. Writing it meant breaking decades of silence, meant asking her parents to revisit their most painful memories, and making private family trauma public.
In this episode, we talk about what it takes to keep going when your work requires you to revisit the hardest parts of your life again and again, how she rebuilds her courage between projects, how she processes the weight of speaking for others, how she maintains boundaries while staying open to her own feelings, and how she remembers why these stories matter when the cost of telling them feels too high.
5 Ways Sahar Delijani Shows Us How to Build Our Courage Capital:
She reconnects to purpose when doubt creeps in. When Sahar questions whether she has the right to tell these stories, she comes back to a simple truth: these stories need to be told, and she’s the one with the passion, knowledge, and proximity to tell them. That clarity of knowing why the work matters beyond her own fear keeps her moving forward. (You can do this too: write down why your brave thing matters. Keep that visible. Come back to it when you forget.)
She builds community to sustain the hard work. Sahar doesn’t try to write about trauma in isolation. She surrounds herself with friends, family, and fellow artists who understand what she’s carrying. They give her energy when her own runs low, remind her why the work matters, and help her process the weight of it all. (Your turn: identify 2-3 people who can hold space for your brave work. Tell them what you’re doing and ask them to check in with you.)
She gives herself permission to feel everything. Rather than pushing through difficult emotions to stay “productive,” Sahar lets herself feel desperate, tired, lazy, or whatever shows up. She trusts that living through feelings honestly is how they move through and make space for the next thing. (Try this: when hard feelings come up, ask yourself “what am I really feeling right now?” and let yourself have that feeling without judgment.)
She takes breaks without guilt. Between writing projects, Sahar steps away from the work entirely. She reads, cooks, travels, swims, spends time with loved ones, all without beating herself up for not being “productive.” She’s learned that rest isn’t procrastination; it’s how we build the reserves to do the next hard thing. (What would it look like for you to schedule guilt-free breaks into your brave work?)
She reframes whose story this is. When the weight of speaking for others felt too heavy, Sahar shifted perspective: yes, these are her family’s stories, but she’s the medium connecting them to people who need to hear them. She’s not the hero or the villain of this story, but the translator, the bridge, the person willing to do the hard work of making private pain into public wisdom. (Where can you reframe your role from “I must get this perfect” to “I’m here to connect and translate”?)
Lift Her Up
Sahar’s second novel, For Every Person You Kill, arrives in spring 2027. In the meantime, pick up Children of the Jacaranda Tree wherever books are sold—it’s one of those rare books you’ll want to reread immediately just to savor the language and sit with the characters a little longer.
If you loved this story...
Did you know that every woman on the Uplifters podcast is nominated by someone she inspires? This means you and I get to chat with the most inspiring women -- the ones who inspire the women who inspire us!
Our current thread:
Susan Jaramillo→Kate Tellers from The Moth→Cleyvis Natera→ Deesha Philyaw → Mo Browne – Djeli Said → Hala Alyan → Sahar Delijani who nominates Yeldā Ali as her Uplifter: “Artist, activist, innovator, community organizer, Yeldā is a true uplifter!”
Let’s Chat!
What story have you been afraid to tell? What would it take to start telling it this week, even just to yourself, even just in a journal? Share in the comments, your courage might be exactly what another person needs to hear.
