Skoðun

Iran today

Seyedeh Parinaz Mahdavi skrifar

Almost everyone today knows what is happening in the Middle East and the war that is affecting Iran. I am not here to speak politically about this. I speak as someone who was honoured three years ago to receive a Courage Award on behalf of Women and Girls of Iran at the Reykjavik Global Forum, representing the bravery of women whose lives are shaped by oppression and inequality. Considering this, and the ongoing war and different stories of happiness and sadness within the country on social media, it gave me the urgency and responsibility to write, as a woman who lived in Iran and witnessed their struggles firsthand.

Growing up in Iran under the current regime, girls are forced from the age of seven to wear the hijab in schools, and this is only the beginning of a lifetime of restrictions on personal freedom and expression. And do not think that these laws are just about clothing—they are part of a system that denies the very basic human rights of people, specifically women, suppresses their voices, and limits their autonomy. For decades, women and children have faced arbitrary arrests, imprisonment, torture, and killings, simply for asserting their basic human rights and saying no to any force by an apartheid regime.

The tragic death of Mahsa Zhina Amini in 2022 is a powerful symbol of this ongoing struggle, but she is far from the only one. Tens of thousands of women and children have been targeted over the past 47 years, and recent months alone have seen hundreds of young lives lost or shattered in acts of repression and violence. They shut down the internet on people, like how they are doing it right now, and at the same time in the very country the regime itself has access to the internet to show whatever they would like to present to the world, which is far from the reality. The people inside Iran have been through an internal war for many years; the difference here is that no other countries attacked them—not with missiles, but with guns, bullets, prisons, torture, and rape. And for what? Demanding basic human rights.

It is important to understand that this struggle is not about religion, but against an oppressive system that systematically silences women, minorities, and dissenting voices. This is a voice of humble people with a deep history just demanding freedom. When Iranians express hope, relief, or even cautious happiness at the possible fall of this regime in this war, it is not an endorsement of war. No healthy person desires war—but after decades of killings, imprisonment, and suppression, the people long for safety, dignity, and justice, and of course they show happiness and hope for change, and sadly, apparently demanding human rights in some parts of the world means losing a lot and even accepting the consequence of war.

Imagine growing up in a world where every choice you make is scrutinized, where your voice could lead to punishment, and where the simplest acts of freedom feel like rebellion. Now imagine living this way for decades, yet still finding the courage to stand, speak, and resist. Pause for a moment and think of the women and children who have carried this weight, whose bravery is often invisible, yet whose hope refuses to be extinguished. Their struggle is not only theirs; it is a call for all of us to recognize how dignity, freedom, and humanity truly can be achieved.

The voices of these women and children need to be heard. Their experiences, their happiness and hope at the possibility of change of the regime, as well as their fear and worry about the ongoing war, must be understood, acknowledged, and respected.

The author is a Doctoral Graduate Student, Univerity of Iceland. 




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