Why scenes from Iran are distressing for those of us in the diaspora: Opinion
The scenes coming out of Iran have been distressing for those of us in the diaspora, myself included. What started as a protest in response to the death of Mahsa Jhina Amini, a Kurdish-Iranian woman who was detained by the morality police because they felt she had violated the dress code, has turned into something much more.
Shortly after being detained, Amini was transferred to the hospital. She later died and medical reports showed she had suffered repeated blows to her head. But, the authorities made the dubious claim that it was because she had a stroke after a cardiac arrest.
Iranians have protested for more than a week in dozens of cities and the death toll is rising as police use live ammunition to suppress dissent. More than 70 additional people have died, many of them in their 20s.
But sitting at home over the last week, watching the protests unfold on social media, I can’t help but be overcome by a very real sense of deja vu. It’s a version of a film we’ve seen before. We watch despite knowing the likely ending.
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You need to know that there is a robust protest culture with roots that can be traced back to the Tobacco Concession Protests of the 1890s. To gather, to shout, to seek redress through people-power runs through the DNA of every Iranian. It’s a common thread across modern Iranian political history.
Sixteen years after the Tobacco Concession protests, my great grandfather took part in the movement to establish Iran’s first constitution. Like many protests in Iran, early success didn’t ultimately lead to sustained reforms. Counter revolutions backed in part by Western powers re-imposed rule by fiat. It would be a theme that would play out for another seven decades until the revolution brought in a different type of heavy hand.
Post-revolution protests continued at regular intervals. Most don’t rise to the level deemed worthy of attention by western media. The protests run the gamut of social and political grievances. Some are based on gas prices. Others on regional or ethnic tensions. There are even some that are related to environmental issues.
For the protests that have garnered international attention, think back to 1999, 2009, 2019; they ultimately petered out. The regime was far too powerful to succumb to whatever resistance the protests could muster. The Islamic Republic came out in force, cracked heads, and killed its own citizens. During the most recent large protests, in 2019, the regime killed as many as 1500.
But nevertheless, I still care. I’m still watching. It’s all those of us in the diaspora can do. Because that’s what’s required of us. It is our obligation.
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And for those of us who grew up Iranian-American in more isolated parts of this country (I grew up in rural Kentucky), we must look in order to explain and provide some measure of context to the non-Iranians with whom we share space. We do that despite knowing the interest will fade when the prospects for a quick overthrow wane, leaving us to once again shout into the void.
But we can’t look for too long. Seeing folks halfway across the globe who look more like we do than anyone we see at work or school or at our weekly happy hour, seeing folks in a place we have an immeasurable emotional connection to, taking to the streets, dying just for an ounce of liberty, doing the only thing they can, knowing full well you can do very little to help them causes us a deep emotional wound.
My Iranian roots didn’t disappear when my dad immigrated here in early 1964. Just as my deep roots in this country didn’t dissolve simply because my dad is an immigrant. And it's those deep American roots, ones that run from some of the first boats over tracing a path right through the middle of our fight for independence all the way up to today, that make moments like these in Iran all the more important for me and others like me. Because I know what the fight for freedom, liberty, and democracy entails. It’s a part of my DNA–and from both sides.
All we can do in these moments is amplify the voices of those there seeking the changes they want to see, a place with which we have our own deep, emotionally complicated relationship.
Will Mahsa Jhina Amini’s death be what sparks the movement that ultimately overthrows the regime in Iran? It’s way too early to tell. But for those of us in the diaspora, even while it may seem all too familiar, we won’t look away. Will you join us?
David Shams is an Iranian-American, born and raised in Bardstown, KY. He currently resides in Washington, DC with his wife and two children. He is a graduate of Murray State University and the Patterson School of Diplomacy and International Commerce at the University of Kentucky. Find him on twitter @shamswriter.
This article originally appeared on Louisville Courier Journal: Why scenes from Iran are distressing for those of us in the diaspora
