Change of a Nation; Sad Narratives To Be Told For Generations

Our revolution in 1979 was hijacked, and we already knew it. It was sometime in the summer of 1984. The number of arrests, imprisonments, group executions, and killings of our younger people on the streets of Tehran was a daily reality. Now it was about five consecutive years that we heard stories of hangings, killings, rape in jails, and human chase. On top of the misery was the war that Saddam Hussein had started, a war that the clerks in the regime welcomed. War was an excellent reason to establish their oppressive system and blame all the suffering on the war.

The justifications for the forced Hijab, the crackdown on opposition groups, and the Islamization of life were the unfamiliar changes causing anger, rage, and victimization. That summer, I recall, there was news of a public hanging of someone in the street very close to where we lived in Tehran. It is different when you hear people are being killed in jails, and once you know, something like this happens close by. That night until morning, I cried. I wish I had a magic power to stop the cruelty. The level of pain I was feeling was beyond anything I had imagined. I did not know that man. Still, I was feeling the pain his family was feeling. The fear that the terrorist regime was instilling in us was huge. The public hanging of people by the barbaric government continued all these years. Any protest would lead to imprisonment, torture, and cruel punishments. Every rally was being shut down. We carried on. While feeling helpless, we tried to live our life. Forty-three years of helpless tears, silent screams, and controlled rage were eating us alive.

Some of us jumped off the wagon in various ways. Some others left Iran. Migration became one way to flee a harsh reality no one could change. Some tried to change the path by going their way to business. Mostly, we hated and blamed our misery on the politics that enabled the Islamist regime to rule over us. Still, no one or at least most of us, ever forgot. 's killing became a trigger point that has brought us all to our consciousness. Thanks to them, we feel alive again and will fight to regain our homeland. is a dynamic movement, a change we never imagined could occur. We are alive again, and the world is hearing us. Sadly, the hanging and killing of our lovely young people continue, and people are not scared anymore. We have found a voice. Iranians on the streets all over Iran and outside the borders will do anything to fight this barbaric regime. We must be the voice of our brave, wise, intelligent women and men in Iran. This is just the tip of the iceberg. Storie will follow.