my sister was 8 years old when morality police in Tehran stopped us because she wasnât wearing a headscarf. Dad tried to tell them, sheâs only 8, itâs not mandatory until sheâs 10, but it didnât matter to him because she âlookedâ older. She was forced to wear a scarf before he let us go.
The same day another police stopped us because he could glimpse my motherâs ankles, even though she was wearing a long trench coat. She had to buy and put on black tights before he let us go.
In 1997 we got stuck in the airport in Teheran because they âlostâ dadâs passport. Mom ended up leaving with me and my sister, leaving dad behind. Since heâs an Iranian citizen, the Swedish embassy couldnât help even though he also is a Swedish citizen. My uncle went every day to the airport to pester them about the passport. They âfoundâ the passport 2 months later, finally allowing him to fly back to Sweden.
when ordering school photos my dad would always ask the photographer to edit out our cross necklaces in one copy, so that he could send it to our grandparents. He knew it wouldnât be safe in case officials checked the mail and realised we weâre christian.
These are mild examples of the oppression and fear the Iranian people have had to live with for over 40 years, of the oppression Iranian women have had to live under.
i could give a thousand more. the people of Iran are terrorised by itâs government. I could tell you about relatives executed and relatives scattered around the globe. About the per capita executions and the examples of attacks on Iranians outside Iran by agents of the regime. The risks of traveling into Iran as a Iranian citizen.
Iâm just part of the Iranian diaspora. Iâm Iranian, yet not Iranian. Cut off from my heritage due to the risks, due to the distance. Itâs an open wound. A wound that will never have a chance to heal unless the regime falls.
but my wound is a paper cut compared to my dadâs, compared to the Iranians in Iran fighting for freedom and justice. The ones thatâs been truly robbed of their homeland. For that, I have no words.
what weâre seeing now is a fight to reclaim it. A fight for justice for Masha Amini, as well as other women before her -and sadly after her. A fight for human- and womenâs rights.
I can only voice my support.
