Source: Dawn
By Sheema Kalbasi
It begins with a song, a voice carried across digital waves, steadfast and bold. Two weeks ago, on February 27, Hiva Seyfizadeh was arrested during a live concert in Tehran when security forces raided the venue where she was performing. According to state media, she was charged with organizing an unlicensed concert and performing as the sole female singer in the presence of men. Late last year, in mid-December, Iranian singer Parastoo Ahmadi and her male bandmates were arrested after streaming an online concert, defying the Islamic Republic’s ban on women singing solo in public or online. Before she was detained, Ahmadi declared to thousands of viewers watching her performance on YouTube, “I am Parastoo, a girl who cannot stay silent and refuses to stop singing for the people she loves. This is my right, one I will never surrender.”
Ahmadi was previously arrested during the mass protests led by Iranian women that rocked Iran in 2022 and early 2023. Two years later, her performance without a hijab from a historic Silk Road-era caravanserai was an act of resistance to the Islamic Republic’s ongoing repression of cultural expression. Women who defy hijab laws face harassment and imprisonment, while artists risk exile or prolonged incarceration. Yet defiance endures across Iran as women still step into the streets unveiled, writers dare to share forbidden truths and musicians refuse to remain silent. Each act stands as a resolute and quiet testament to their unwavering courage.
Despite decades of repression, the resilience of Iranian women remains unbroken. The death of 22-year-old Mahsa Amini in 2022, after being detained by the morality police for allegedly wearing her hijab improperly, ignited nationwide protests. Women and girls removed their hijabs in public, cut their hair and courageously took to the streets in defiance of state brutality. This movement became known as “Woman, Life, Freedom,” after the protesters’ rallying cry.
Many female protesters were killed at the hands of Iran’s security forces, including teenagers like 16-year-olds Nika Shakarami and Sarina Esmailzadeh, who became the young faces of the uprising. But it was not only women who paid the price. Iranian men also stood in solidarity, supporting women’s rights and the broader fight for democracy, and were shot, arrested or executed.
Since then, the chant of “Woman, Life, Freedom” has become synonymous with the struggle of Iranian women against decades of entrenched injustice under the Islamic Republic. Echoing through streets, classrooms and on social media, it is more than just a protest cry; it embodies a deeply rooted fight for core freedoms and dignity. While history recounts victories lost, this new generation in Iran is writing its own chapter with fearless resolve and a relentless demand for lasting change.
While history recounts victories lost, this new generation in Iran is writing its own chapter with fearless resolve and a relentless demand for lasting change. – Sheema Kalbasi
These young Iranians are not simply an extension of those who came before them. They are not satisfied with reform, incremental change or promises that fade like worn-out protest banners. Their language is sharper, more immediate and often articulated not in speeches or carefully constructed manifestos, but in raw, unfiltered cries, like Parastoo Ahmadi’s defiant call to keep singing.
Teenagers like 16-year-olds Nika Shakarami and Sarina Esmailzadeh, who helped drive the 2022 protests and paid with their lives, were not political strategists or seasoned activists. Their courage and words carried a weight unmatched by decades of political negotiations and compromises by Iran’s reformist politicians and intellectuals. Sarina’s repeated cry of “Refah, Refah, Refah!”—prosperity, prosperity, prosperity—on her social media platforms was not merely an economic demand but a call for dignity, a life unburdened by fear, and for unconditional freedom.
This generation carries a fire that does not dim in the face of repression. They document their struggles with smartphones, share their hopes on encrypted apps and carry the memory of their lost peers in every protest chant. Their courage is not just an act of defiance; it is a testament to a movement that will not be erased, despite the regime’s brutal attempts to wipe it out. While an older generation of Iranian reformists spoke of systemic change within established frameworks, Nika and Sarina’s generation rejects these worn-out blueprints. They demand not a better version of the cage but an end to the cage entirely. They are not speaking merely of political reform or economic restructuring; they are envisioning a different world altogether.
When Sarina smiled at the camera for her social media accounts, her hair framing her youthful face, she was more than another teenager documenting her life. She was, perhaps unknowingly, archiving a revolution in the making. When Nika walked into the streets for the last time, she carried the weight of silenced generations and the hope of those who would follow. This generation does not speak the language of half-measures. They do not bargain for slices of freedom; they demand the whole loaf. Their chants may be silenced for now, but their message has echoed long after the tear gas cleared. They are not reformers—they are revolutionaries. And they will not stop until their vision of prosperity, dignity and freedom becomes reality.
This struggle is an attempt to restore women’s rights that have been systematically dismantled in Iran since the Islamic Revolution in 1979. The new Islamic Republic under Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini annulled many of the reforms instituted by the Shah in the 1960s and 1970s that had given women additional rights under the monarchy, including family laws that had provided women with protections in marriage, divorce and child custody. While Khomeini’s regime did not revoke the right of women to vote or run for office, it put many new draconian restrictions on women. Gender segregation became widespread, and women were pushed out of positions of power. The notorious hijab law imposed a new dress code for women in public. What was once a personal choice, the veil, became a powerful symbol of state control over women’s autonomy that was foundational to the Islamic Republic.
Their chants may be silenced for now, but their message has echoed long after the tear gas cleared. – Sheema Kalbasi
For decades since, Iranian women have waged tireless battles for their rights within a system designed to suppress them. Among the most notable efforts was a grassroots initiative launched in 2006 by women’s rights activists to collect one million signatures across Iran, demanding an end to discriminatory laws against women, including those related to marriage, divorce, inheritance and child custody. The campaign was peaceful and deeply rooted in civil society. Activists went door to door, engaging ordinary citizens in conversations about gender equality and legal reform. They held workshops, wrote essays and organized gatherings to build a collective voice strong enough to challenge entrenched patriarchal norms.
The movement was not demanding regime change or an overthrow of power. It was asking for fairness within the existing legal framework. Despite its peaceful nature and clear objectives, the campaign was met with more state repression. Activists were harassed, arrested and forced into exile. Not for the first time, the Islamic Republic viewed even modest demands for reform as existential threats. The system, rooted in an ideological fusion of religion and authoritarianism, could not tolerate concessions that might unravel its tightly controlled structure.
Time and again, attempts at reform have revealed a fundamental truth: systems built on exclusion and control cannot be reformed from within. Whether through political participation, advocacy campaigns or grassroots mobilization, every pathway to change has been systematically blocked or co-opted by the Islamic Republic. The failure of these reformist efforts is not a reflection of their worthiness or their vision but a testament to the unreformable nature of the system they sought to change. Today, the slogans of younger generations echo this realization, not asking for incremental change but demanding a total transformation.
In Iran, resistance is not limited to campaigns or movements; it thrives in the daily acts of defiance by women who refuse to accept silence, oppression or invisibility. This includes musicians like Hiva Seyfizadeh and Parastoo Ahmadi, as well as political activists spanning generations and political spectrums, like Fatemeh Sepehri, Mahboobeh Rezaei, Soheila Hejab, and Shakila Monfared, who have all been sentenced to long prison terms not only for advocating for women’s rights but for their outright rejection of the Islamic Republic. The crackdown extends to men who stand in solidarity, proving the Islamic Republic’s deep-rooted fear of collective resistance.
Yet despite prison walls and the ever-looming threat of violence, women continue to document injustices and refuse to be silenced. The fight for “Woman, Life, Freedom” is far from over. History has shown that when women lead revolutions, they carry with them an unstoppable force for change. Iranian women are not only fighting for their rights; they are fighting for the soul of their nation. The world must not just watch idly. From governments to human rights organizations, they must amplify the voices of Iranian women, demand accountability from the Islamic Republic and ensure that the many imprisoned activists and brave protesters are not forgotten.
