Cyrus Oveissi '23
Guest Writer
Today, I booked a plane ticket to visit my grandfather in Paris. He and his brother are both buried there. They and so many other Iranians have met a similar fate: brutal execution because they believed in basic human rights for their people. Today, more Iranians are being butchered. I am here to plead for your voice and support in our fight for freedom.
My name is Cyrus. If that is not a dead giveaway, I am an Iranian American. I was named after the great liberator, Cyrus the Great of Persia. King Cyrus was known as a liberator and not as conqueror because he respected the individual religious beliefs and customs of each state he ruled over. Those of you that do know me are aware that I have a deep sense of pride not only in who I am but for where I come from. Perhaps, however, less apparent is this: coupled with my sense of pride I carry on my back decades of pain, grief, and guilt. Some 40 years ago, my father came to this country to attend college with hopes of bringing back to Iran a wealth of newfound knowledge. Then, in 1979 the Iranian “revolution” happened. A short time later, his father and uncle were assassinated in Paris in order to stop the spread of “dangerous information.” The same men who orchestrated this barbaric and senseless murder of my family are taking aim at innocent protestors in Iranian streets today. This new crisis adds to my already deep sense of exhaustion, but what keeps me going is the simple notion that I am not alone. Iranians around the world shoulder the same weight; none braver than the very men and women pouring into the streets of Iran as I write this.
In a feat of painful irony, I write to speak about these very atrocities. While I may be named after one of the greatest liberators in ancient history, right now I feel hopeless. I am angry, I want to cry, I want to fight, but I need help. Your help! For four decades, the Iranian people, especially women (young and old), have been the subject of a crude experiment where they have been stripped of any and all individual freedoms, basic human rights, and happiness. No, my people are not rising up because they face economic difficulties. We are a resilient bunch andfor the better part of the last century sanctions have been synonymous with Iran and so too have economic issues. My brothers and sisters are pouring into the streets demanding change because we are at a breaking point. On September 16th, the barbaric regime lit a match and started a fire within all Iranians; that match goes by the name of Mahsa Jina Amini. 22-year-old Amini was beaten, tortured, and killed by the so proclaimed “morality police” (a state sponsored police force meant to ensure everyone is adhering to their strict Islamic law regime) for wearing her headscarf improperly. If you have not already seen the chilling video of the aftermath of her torture, she was struck in the head so many times she collapsed while standing and died after going into a coma. As we soon found out, she was only the first victim in a wave of torture murders focusing on silencing any hope for change.
The residents of more than 60 Iranian cities have taken to the streets seeking justice. These heroic protests continue as the people of Iran face reprisal so savage it seems as if they are living in a nightmare. Imagine for a moment that your law school, one of the preeminent institutions in your country, is surrounded by people who are there to beat you silent. Welcome to the nightmare that is Sharif University in Tehran. Imagine for a moment you are walking the streets and see an ambulance drive past you with the hope that they are there to help treat your fallen brother who was beaten blind after protesting for your basic human rights. Instead, the ambulance lowers its windows and state sponsored assailants fire metal pellets in your direction. Welcome to the Islamic Republic of Iran.
If this is the first you are hearing of this humanitarian crisis, you will understand why there is an added layer to my pain. It is almost impossible to find anyone outside the Iranian community talking about this. Even so, I refuse to believe my close circle of friends or colleagues do not care about young people just like me being slaughtered in the streets merely for peacefully voicing their opinions. Instead, I assume the broader issue is with the lack of access to relevant information. This is me doing my best to shine a light on a fight that should be personal to all of us; not just to bring peace to my late grandfather’s name, but to ensure that another generation of young women in Iran do not have to shoulder the pain that millions before her have. I am pleading for your help in this fight. Your help can take many forms, but step one is sharing this story. There is nothing more powerful than your voice of support. Please, use it. Silence is the language the oppressors favor. Share relevant posts on social media, inform your friends and families, and hug your Iranian friends. With your help, maybe one day soon my dad will be able walk streets he has not seen in 50 years alongside his sisters who are free to exist as they see fit.
In our quest for freedom, three words continue to guide us: Women, Life, Freedom. Say it with me and say it with the millions of Iranians who are tired of living in terror: Zan, Zendegi, Azadi.
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co6mx@virginia.edu