If available to you, I encourage you to listen to the audio version of this piece.
Where do I begin talking about Iran? Do I ask you to say her name? Do I tell you about my own personal experiences with the regime? Is this where I process and grieve decades of life lost to a theocratic, power-hungry government?
Where do I begin?
When you hear the term ‘morality police’ you might imagine a novel set in a dystopian world where women are controlled by men and have little to no choice or agency over their own lives. Sadly, this is not an imagined reality. This is the Islamic Republic of Iran and it is a real-life dystopia that millions of people exist in every day. For over 40 years, women and the people of Iran have been subjected to fear, violence, punishment, and murder in the name of a just and almighty god. The Islamic Republic has used religion and faith as a tool for oppression, committing crimes against its own people in order to maintain power, control, and the illusion of cooperation.
This is the country I was born and raised in. The system my family, and many individuals and families, were forced to escape.
Iran is a beautiful and rich land. Its people are kind, passionate, and resilient. As a country we have resisted colonization, fought imperialism, and remained sovereign in the face of external domination. This strength and power have come at a cost to the Iranian people. We have managed to keep out invaders, but have suffered at the hands of our own leaders.
Since the murder of Mahsa Amini on September 16, 2022, we have witnessed an uprising that ushered waves of protests across cities in Iran and around the world. Hundreds of thousands of people have marched in the name of freedom, chanting ‘say her name’, ‘Mahsa Amini’, ‘one solution, revolution’, ‘be our voice’, and more. Sending a clear message to the regime: change is coming.
Protestors of all genders, young and old, are exposing the regime’s 40+ years of injustice against its own people. The rest of the world finally gets to see what Iranians have been experiencing for decades. This is the global awakening of a long-awaited rebellion.
Yesterday while my partner and I and a few friends were at a protest in downtown Toronto, one of the organizers, a young and passionate queer Iranian activist urged the crowd, “This is not a protest, this is a revolution.” Iranians, many of whom escaped Iran when the Islamic regime took power, have been waiting for this moment since 1979.
In the weeks, months, and maybe years to come, Iranians and people across the world will watch as the women of Iran lead a historic revolution.
For those looking in, Iranians may seem to be protesting compulsory hijab. And while that is true, this is about so much more than uncovering one’s hair. This is about basic human rights. The right to choose. The right to express. The right to criticize the people in power. The hijab is the Islamic Republic’s most perceptible symbol of oppression, but it is only the tip of the iceberg. Masih Alinejad, Iranian-American journalist and activist continuously reminds us that, “Compulsory hijab is like the Berlin Wall, tear it down and the entire system crumbles.” It is the thread and the most accessible entry point to unraveling the fabric of a deadly regime.
This is why the women of Iran are standing on police cars, taking off their veils, and burning their metamorphic handcuffs. They’re letting their leaders know that they are no longer afraid.
As a former citizen of Iran, it’s hard to describe what I feel when I watch videos of Iranian school girls chanting ‘death to the dictator!’ ‘Death to Khamenei!’. When you’ve spent years of your life chanting ‘Death to America!’ And ‘Death to Israel’ as myself and so many others have, taking off your hijab and calling out your oppressor must feel both strange and cathartic. I wish I could chant alongside you. I can only hope that the vibrations of our collective voices will intersect to create a resounding cry for change.
Women of Iran. People of Iran. Your cries are being heard. Your voices are echoing to every corner of the world. You are not fighting this fight alone. For years you have been the backbone of your country, and now you, and the men who have suffered at the same hands, are seeking justice, peace, and freedom at any cost.
I hope and pray for your safety every day. I hope that you have the will to go on. I hope the global acknowledgment of your suffering, your courage, and the support of your people from afar, gives you strength in the face of tragedy.
Women and people of the world. Freedom fighters, justice seekers, and future makers. This is not Iran’s fight. This is our collective fight. In the words of author and activist, Audre Lorde, “I am not free while any woman is unfree, even when her shackles are very different from my own.” Policing the agency of human bodies, taking away human sovereignty, erasing cultures and histories--this is all oppression. This is all injustice. And it has no clear beginning or end. When we stand up for Iranian women, we stand up for every woman in the world. When we dismantle systems of oppression, we untether everyone from the roots of abusive power and control. This work and its effects do not exist in silos. We suffer together. We rise together. We fall together.
Fight this fight as if it were your own. Because it is your own.
In this moment of deep grief, rage, and desperation, we must turn to the revolutionaries that have paved the way. I feel solace in the wisdom of Martin Luther King who said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” And while I want that to be true for Iran, I know that it may take years, and many lives lost, for us to create a new world.
The Iranian people will not stop resisting, protesting, and fighting. Not in Iran and not around the world. The more we are antagonized, terrorized, harmed, and murdered, the more this revolution will be fuelled. We will see the day when millions of Iranians march to break down the walls the Islamic Republic has built to maintain control. No morality police, military personnel, or weapons can hold back the tsunami of collective power. Individually, we may feel helpless, but we can overturn any system together. We will not use force to create change, but persistence. It will be our relentless pursuit of freedom that will lead us to our liberation.
We are at a threshold. Our systems are breaking. Our governments are panicking. And our sense of safety and security is being threatened. We have witnessed our own capacity to create change when we organize and move as one river flowing toward an expansive ocean. There is no time like the present to direct our attention, intention, and efforts toward sustainable change.
In the words of Masih Alinejad, “The Iranian regime will be brought down by women.” Intuitively, I know she is right. And when it does happen, the world will never be the same. Women, men, political prisoners, racialized and marginalized folks, minorities, immigrants, and refugees, everyone whose identity, culture, and history has been oppressed and erased, will stand together against the social system that has been crushing and killing us for thousands of years.
The patriarchy cannot and will not withstand our resistance.
People of Iran, I love you. I long for you. I grieve for you. And I encourage you to go on. I know one day you will be free. We will all be free.
Until then, I will be chanting with you,
Zan (women), Zendegi (life), Azadi (freedom)
Seeds For Revolution
Negin Joon, this was beautifully written, and I love hearing your voice too.
I've been reading this poem for so many years, and would like to share it with you too, which I think is so relevant to those who are back home leading the movement.
(Poem by Ahmad Shamloo) called; Children of the Depths
They thrive,
In the town of no street,
In the stale web of dead-end lanes,
In the bosom of smoke, drug and pain,
Talismans in thir pocket and stones in hands.
The children of the depths!
The children of the depths!
They thrive.
**&**
The cruel swamp of fate in front,
The lash of thrown fathers on their back,
Ears filled with their shattered mothers’ curse,
In a void of hope,
their future crushed in their clinched fists,
The children of the depths,
The children of the depths,
They thrive.
**&**
They flourish,
In the forest of no spring,
On the trees of no yield,
In the fields of no harvest,
The children of the depths!
The children of the depths!
They chant with a bleeding throat,
They carry an unbending flag in their hands,
They bear the banner of pain on their shoulders,
The children of the depths!
The children of the depths,
They thrive.
Translation: Maryam Dilmaghani, January 2009, Montreal.
✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾 always. Thank you for this rallying cry. Beyond inspired by the spirit of Iranian women everywhere.