"Woman, Life, Freedom" in Iran — and What It Means for the Rest of the World | Golshifteh Farahani

I am Mahsa.

I am 22 years old.

I am from Kurdistan.

I came on vacation to Tehran for two days with my brother.

I got arrested for not wearing my veil properly.

Then I was beaten repeatedly

and eventually went into a coma and died.

I am Nika.

I'm 16 years old.

I dressed all in black, took my water bottle

and a small towel to protect myself from tear gas.

I went on the street to protest.

I got kidnapped, tortured.

I'm Nika's shattered skull.

I am her battered body,

delivered to her family 10 days after she got kidnapped.

Eventually, she was buried without warning

in some faraway cemetery.

I am Pouya.

I went to protest with my mother.

She said, "Don't let go of my hand."

But I did.

And I got shot.

I died in front of her eyes.

I'm Kian.

I'm only ten years old.

I wanted to become a scientist.

But my body was riddled with bullets.

I am the boat on wheels he made with his little hands,

carrying 70 more children over the rainbow,

killed in a similar way.

I am Kian's father who was shot and paralyzed for life.

I am Mohammad Mehdi, the Karate Boy.

I am the son of a peddler brought up in poverty.

I was hanged at dawn during the morning prayers.

I am one of the last sentences of Mohammad to his father.

"Don't tell mom they want to execute me."

I am Toomaj, a rapper.

Tortured and kept in solitary confinement for months and months.

I am Elaheh, I am Niloofar.

We are journalists who reported on the death of Mahsa.

We have been in prison since.

I am 537 victims of this revolution in Iran.

The ones who got executed.

The ones who got tortured.

The tens of thousands of wounded and arrested and imprisoned,

innocent men and women.

I am the raised fist of young girls

with their hair flowing in the wind.

I am their glorious dance.

I am their blood, their sighs, their tears,

their dreams, their eyes,

their lost eyes by rubber bullets.

I am the reason they stood up.

I am freedom.

And I'm also Golshifteh.

I'm an artist.

I'm living a life of exile for the past 15 years.

I was forced to leave my motherland.

But I kept fighting, as a woman, for life, to be free.

My choices and existence as an exiled female artist

was my battle.

Exist to resist.

But the courageous, fearless Generation Z,

who started this revolution,

they didn't leave.

They stayed.

And they went on the street and died for woman, life and freedom.

Death breaks the cage

but doesn't kill the bird, as Rumi says.

We carry these birds in us,

let them fly on their way to victory.

Wars, discrimination, dictatorships, racism,

it is all the same.

Iran is the rest of the world.

The world is Iran.

Woman, Life, Freedom;

Black Lives Matter;

Glory to Ukraine.

Ignorance and fear is the cause of it all.

We can all decide today to be the bridge to unite rather than separate.

Any child living in a dictatorship,

any refugee child being denied help,

any child being killed in war,

if we ignore one, we ignore our own children

and we deny humanity.

The poet Saadi once said,

"Human beings are members of a whole.

In creation of one essence and soul.

If one member is afflicted with pain,

other members uneasy will remain.

If you have no sympathy for human pain,

the name of human you cannot retain."

Thank you.