My name is Shakiba Omidi, though many call me Shax. I was born in Iran — a land of poetry, resilience, and unbreakable spirit. Today I live in Dubai, a city which fosters my rebirth: a place where I shed old skins and transform into who I am becoming.
For me, turning thirty was not just an age growth, but a second birth. In the same breath, life demanded everything of me — migration to a new country, a heartbreak that tore me apart, the grief of losing my grandfather, the silence of being away from my beloved cat, and the pain of watching war fracturing my homeland. Each wound could have broken me, but instead, I rose — like the blue lotus from the mud. Broken, yet blooming. Scarred, yet luminous.
I am a designer, storyteller, and a model. Design taught me that life is more than shapes and spaces — it is memory, meaning, and emotion woven into form. Modeling, for me, is not about superficial beauty. It is another language, another stage — a way to embody stories, to carry both silence and strength, to show the paradox of being a woman: tender and fierce, fragile and indestructible.
I live in contrasts. I am soft and unshakable, patient yet daring, charismatic yet grounded. My eyes often turn heads, but more than being seen, I want people to feel. To feel the courage in vulnerability, the strength in scars, the light that comes only after darkness.
As an Iranian woman, I believe women are the physical embodiment of God on earth — for we create, we nurture, we bring existence itself. To be a woman is to transform pain into power, emptiness into creation, absence into presence. This belief is my compass.
For me, Miss & Mrs. Middle East 2025 is not just a contest. It is a stage to embody the voice of Iranian women — women who have fallen a thousand times and risen a thousand and one. Women who know that beauty is not the absence of scars but the courage to show them. On this stage, I want to tell the world: trust your path, even when it breaks you. Believe in grace, even when you doubt. Scars are not shameful— they are the places where the light enters.
I see myself as a reflection— of both wounds and victories. A mirror that reflects not only who I am, but what is possible. And I hope my legacy will not be measured by images or appearances, but in impact: in the reminiscing that every woman carries the divine spark within, to change the world — simply by being true to herself.