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Repression in Iran: ‘They took my clothes off and cut my hair’
Elaheh Ejbari, 22, was kidnapped in the street and held for four days after taking part in a protest in Tehran following the death of Mahsa Amini, who died while in custody of Iran’s morality police. Ejbari, who comes from Iran’s Baluchestan region on the border with Pakistan, says she was subjected to sexual violence and humiliation,
partly due to her ethnicity.
Issued on: 15/09/2023 - 07:30; 5 min
By: Bahar MAKOOI
France24
A selfie of Elaleh Ejbari taken during her transit through Turkey after having fled Iran at the end of 2022.
© Elaheh Ejbari
Mahsa Amini was the same age as me – 22. Like me, she came from a provincial town. I grew up in Baluchestan. Her death made me very angry. I saw myself in her, and right away I wanted to protest.
Life was already very difficult for me in Tehran, but I felt safer there than in Baluchestan. To know this kind of thing was also happening in the capital was awful.
I was married at the age of 16. It wasn’t a consensual marriage. I left as soon as I could. Without my husband knowing, I prepared for the entrance exams at the University of Tehran and I was accepted into the psychology programme. I ran away to the capital.
He tried to take me back by force, but with the help of some lawyers that I met at university, we managed to get him to give up and I was finally able to get a divorce after three years.
'I was so beside myself that I threw away my veil'
I thought when coming to live in Tehran that women would be considered equals here, that life would be simpler. I had put the blame for all my misery on my family, which is very traditional. But I found out the hard way that it’s the system that wants our society to be like this, that orders come from the top.
After the death of Mahsa Amini and the first protests, the city was crawling with security forces. We saw men with guns everywhere, especially at the entrances to the subway. I wasn’t wearing a veil anymore, I didn’t even have anything covering my shoulders – I had put it away in my bag. Once, an agent made a remark and I found myself insulting him. We were so angry that even though these armed men were there, we kept shouting, "Woman, life, freedom".
They threw teargas right in front of me during one of the demonstrations in the centre of Tehran. I turned my head and I saw a girl my age being beaten on the ground. My heart began to race, I didn’t think, I threw myself between her and the policeman. He knocked me out with a single blow. Three boys came from I don’t know where. They claimed to be my brothers, bargained with the policeman and got me out of there. "Get that slut out of my sight," the officer said.
The boys took me to a side street and lit a cigarette to help dissipate the effects of the teargas that had burned my eyes. They gave me something to drink. It was the first time that men had looked after me. I felt that their hearts were as heavy as mine.
In Baluchestan, the women don’t even eat in the same room as the men. I spent so many meals alone in the kitchen. I had no phone, no satellite TV. In my family, I had always been a disgrace – they were ashamed that I was studying, ashamed that I was divorced.
'They insulted me because I am Baluch'
In Tehran, I earned money by giving language classes to young people. Sometimes I sold spices in the street, in Revolution Square.
On December 5, I was coming from having just given a class in the Tehranpars neighbourhood (in the capital’s east). Some men threw me into a van. To this day, I still don’t know who they were exactly. They locked me up in a place I couldn’t identify. They took my clothes off and cut my hair. They made fun of my dark skin. They insulted me because I am Baluch (an ethnic minority often discriminated against by the Iranian authorities).
They didn’t understand how a Baluch girl had managed to escape and live by her own means in the capital. They suspected me of receiving funding from opposition groups.
They accused me of being a representative of the Baluch cause in Tehran and representing Imam Molavi Abdolhamid (a Sunni leader of the Baluch). I laughed in their faces, telling them that I didn’t know the Baluch had progressed to the point of choosing a woman to represent them. That’s when they hit me. They were touching my body and they were saying to me: "You like that. You say, 'Woman, life, freedom' – you want to be completely naked, is that your slogan? So you like it. You should be thanking us." They kept on saying that they wouldn’t kill me, but that they’d send me back to Baluchestan so my uncles would take care of that themselves.
'I couldn’t go back to a normal life'
After four days they threw me into the street. My friends had all been worried about me, they had gone to all the morgues and alerted the media.
I tried to go back to a normal life but I couldn’t. My students cancelled their lessons, one after another. The owner of my apartment asked me to leave. I don’t know if they were pressured or if they were just afraid. I collected all the money that I had and I left for the airport, where I got on a flight for Turkey, without knowing if I’d be able to make it.
Looking back, I realise that the men who took me knew who I was. I had already spent two months in Evin Prison for fuelling "propaganda against the regime". I was considered a women’s rights activist because I’m fighting to ban child marriage in Iran (the minimum legal age is 13 for girls) and also because of my posts on Instagram.
Luckily, I was able to go to Turkey and I am now living in a European country. Overseas, I met people who understand me better. Because even in Tehran, the other girls didn’t know what I had endured.
I’m seeing a psychologist and that helps me a lot. Even today, when I see a van slow down – even here – I get scared.
Baluchestan, Iran
Proposed hijab penalties in Iran: 'They can’t prosecute millions of women'
Issued on: 15/09/2023 - 18:26; 5 min
By: Alijani Ershad, France24
The Observers
One year ago this Saturday, 22-year-old Mahsa Amini died after being arrested by Iran’s morality police for wearing her hijab "improperly". Her death led to massive anti-regime protests, known by their now-iconic slogan: “Woman, Life, Freedom”. The Observers team has been in regular contact with dozens of women across Iran over the past 12 months. Many of them have told us that it has become the “new normal” for millions of women in Iran to go out in public with their hair uncovered. But with a new law under discussion that would massively increase the penalties for hijab-related offenses, how long will these new freedoms last?
While a year ago it was unusual to see women without hijab in public spaces in Iran, thousands of amateur images posted online – and the accounts of women inside the country – show that millions of Iranian women now routinely go out in public without the Islamic head covering. © Observers
While a year ago it was unusual to see women without hijab in public spaces in Iran, thousands of amateur images posted online – and the accounts of women inside the country – show that millions of Iranian women now routinely go out in public without the Islamic head covering.
A new law is under discussion in the Iranian parliament that would increase the penalties for the improper wearing of hijab from the equivalent of 1 euro to 3,000 euros, and the maximum prison sentence from two months to 10 years. The proposed law has special measures for so-called “celebrities”, including the confiscation of 10 percent of their assets.
Thousands of amateur images posted online - and the accounts of women inside the country - show that millions of Iranian women now routinely go out in public without the Islamic head coverings known as hijab.
'I no longer wear hijab in public spaces'
Sita (not her real name) is a young Iranian university student who lives in Tehran. Although she grew up in a religious family, she has decided to stop wearing a hijab.
After the protests started, this question in my head became louder and louder: Why do I have to seek permission from the state – from an ideology that I don't even believe in – to live the way I want to live? I have found new courage to stand up for my choices, despite the risks.
In the last year, many things have changed for me. The first change was in my family. I feel that they are much more open-minded and look at women differently than they used to.
Since the death of Mahsa Amini, I no longer wear hijab in public spaces. Society has generally been supportive. Before the protests, if you went out in public without hijab, people would stare at you, even other women. Now, the most common reaction is a simple smile. Sometimes people say encouraging words when they pass by.
History has taught us that any change in society is difficult, and entrenched ideologies are difficult to crack. Despite all this, I see many changes in society. I have the feeling that many people who are religious and observant have asked themselves this question: “If I have the freedom to lead the lifestyle I choose, then girls and women on the street who do not wear hijab should have the same right to dress the way they want."
We’ve seen that Iranians are willing to pay the price for supporting women. The café owner accepts that his café might be closed down for a few days, but he does not ask the women in his café to wear the hijab. When men fight like this for women’s rights, it shows that a revolution has happened in a macho society.
Dancing for girls in public in Iran with no Islamic hijab could have severe consequences, however many Instagram influencers share their videos.
'They can’t prosecute the millions of women in the streets'
The “celebrities” targeted by the draft law could include social media influencers. One of the favourite targets for arrests by Iranian security forces in the weeks before the anniversary has been female influencers who post images of themselves without hijab to their tens of thousands of followers.
In recent months, several Iranian influencers have been arrested, among them a female motorcyclist, a young lifestyle and fashion influencer, a travel blogger and Sar, a teenager whose video of her with her friends in a shopping mall went viral.
Varia (not her real name) is a lifestyle influencer who lives in Shiraz. She talks about the pressure influencers face.
It’s scary. Every day I hear that a friend or colleague has been arrested, their bank account frozen or their car impounded. But I am glad that there are so many women who resist despite the threats and pressure by the regime. Even if they silence women who are so-called “celebrities”, they cannot prosecute the millions of women in the streets.
The most impressive change I have observed since a year ago is that verbal harassment of women on the street – which used to be not uncommon – has decreased. I have not had a bad experience in a year, even though I’m downtown working every day.
The private sector does not dare to require its female employees to wear hijab. As far as I can tell, people have made their peace with women's personal choice. And what is even nicer is that these changes can be observed not only in the rich neighbourhoods of Tehran, but also in the poor neighbourhoods in the south of Tehran and in other cities. These changes are permanent, I think, they are the result of 40 years of resistance.
Iranian authorities have also targeted Iran’s fast-growing start-up industry, accusing it of propagating Western values by allowing women to go to work without a hijab.
In recent months, several start-ups were targeted by security forces. Some of them had to stop working for weeks, others had their headquarters attacked or their executives arrested.
Shamila (not her real name) is a senior executive at a start-up in Tehran. She talks about her experience over the past year.
Most people who work in startups support the “Women, Life, Freedom” protests. Most women at start-ups like ours refuse to wear hijab. However, it is easier to bully start-ups than millions of women on the streets, one by one. The authorities send threatening letters and sometimes order start-ups to close their office for a few days. The companies that own the start-ups just want to avoid headaches and keep the money flowing.
I think this will force more Iranians than ever – especially talented women working in these startups – to migrate abroad.
The women we have been speaking to believe – or hope – that the protests sparked by Mahsa Amini’s death have changed Iranian society forever. But they say there is more to be done to remove the theocratic regime that governs their lives, and they will keep fighting.
Varia, the influencer, says:
For months I was preoccupied with the price we pay for these changes: People, teenagers and even children who have lost their lives. I wish all that spilt blood had made a bigger difference. But I think all that pain has led our society to where we are now.
This bloodshed has made the equation clear to everyone in Iran, I think: either we put an end to them or they put an end to us, there is no middle ground.
Sita is also optimistic about the future:
The war is not over yet, but so far we have won some battles. You can see by their actions that the regime is desperate; they are arresting singers, journalists, university professors. But I’m optimistic about the future of our country. I’m really focused on the present. What can I do? How can I help the protests to succeed?
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