Seattle Protests Continue as Iran’s Death Toll Rises
“Better to die fighting for freedom than be a prisoner all the days of your life.”
- Bob Marley
Words and Photos By Jordan Somers
Seattle, WA, September 2022. — Two weeks after Jina “Mahsa” Amini was killed by Iran’s so-called morality police, I found myself gravitating toward a simmering, expanding collective of protestors who hailed from Seattle and surrounding cities. After 43 years under the Islamic Republic dating back to the 1979 Iranian Revolution, the disturbing witness accounts of Amini’s beating sent ripple effects throughout the country and, in turn, the world. Just one day after Amini died in a coma due to blunt-force trauma to her head, Iranian citizens poured out into the streets countrywide, amassing by the thousands in unprecedented fashion.
Virtually overnight, Amini’s name became the symbol of a national revolution, a bellowing cry for freedom from and dismantling of the Islamic Republic of Iran. The impassioned demonstrations that followed would be broadcasted, celebrated and mimicked worldwide. In pronounced defiance of the government, women publicly removed - and sometimes burned - their hijabs and cut their hair: immense acts of defiance toward the government's harsh governing laws. They shouted their grievances toward an authoritarian regime that had imposed strict ordinances on womanhood, palpably undermining their humanity.
I arrived in Downtown Seattle to photograph the second weekend of demonstrations following the murder of Amini. Upon arriving, I had yet to fully grasp the magnitude of what is and has been at stake for Iranians both nationally and globally. Being of half Iranian descent, connections to my roots had largely been severed, primarily due to being estranged from my Persian father at two years of age. In turn, I had never learned Farsi, Iran’s official language, nor had I ever visited the country or met any relatives on my father’s side. Hence, my breadth of knowledge of and personal connection to the country had been bereft of any real significance.
Nonetheless, in the sea of Iranian faces - the glances, the smiles, the cries, the exclamations, the songs, the embraces - I felt myself right at home. Naturally, I hold any local or global movement in high regard, whether it be a march to end the genocide in Tigray, Ethiopia or a rally against systemic racism and oppression in America. With my camera in hand, and motivated by an inherent curiosity, passion and precision, I make my presence felt whenever granted the opportunity. In this present case concerning the people of Iran, however, the stakes have felt a bit more personal.
In 2011, my brother Luke traveled to Yemen to teach English at an all-girls school in the capital city of Sana’a. Within weeks of his arrival, the Arab Spring - which had erupted in Tunisia just one year prior - commenced in Yemen, and a full-fledged revolution took place. Much like the Arab Spring, the current Iranian revolution was sparked after an act of peaceful, seemingly innocuous defiance of the governing authority. Yet it was this singular moment in history - in this case, Amini being murdered for improperly wearing her hijab - that embodied decades’ worth of frustration, desperation and mounting grief.
Luke quickly became enveloped in Yemen’s revolution, spending much of his time in the protest camps, befriending locals and having extensive, heartfelt conversations on what it means to be free in one’s own country. For two years he supplied the New York Times, NPR, Al Jazeera and BBC, among other outlets, with underreported stories that both revealed and reminded the outside world of the rich culture and humanity within Yemen’s borders. At the brink of the ousting of Yemen’s president and subsequent governmental takeover, Luke was kidnapped by armed tribesmen. And after being held for 15 months, he was killed in the second of two failed U.S.-led rescue raids.
In essence, my brother epitomized the ultimate statement for living one’s truth, for choosing to live freely. Living a life without restraint, however, is surely met with harsher implications. Such a lifestyle tends to deeply defy the underlying interests of the greater ruling powers at hand. The efforts of the protestors during the Arab Spring, from Tunisia to Yemen, although valiant and well-intentioned, were ultimately quashed by the very fine-tuned, heavily reinforced governing machines they sought to overthrow. Yet it is never all for naught. Revolution, at its very core, reveals the concerted, collaborative effort that spreads like wildfire through the hearts and minds of the educated, the uneducated, the weak, the strong, the old, the young. The fight to live freely is fueled by intergenerationally infused bedrocks where the act of rebellion becomes the only way to live. They know what they are up against, and when pushed to the brink, will be forever willing to lose it all.
It would be unfair of me to assume a comprehensive connection to the unfathomable realities facing residents - and especially women - of Iran. I have been fired upon with flash bangs, tear gas and pepper spray during the 2020 George Floyd protests in Seattle, yet I have never felt my life to be in immediate, mortal danger. However, I have experienced tremendous depths of grief, in ways that few will ever understand. And it is in this depth of trauma that I am fueled by the expanding, unwavering efforts of the Iranian people.
Throughout these last two months, a deeply rooted relationship not only to a trauma-ridden past, but also my literal bloodline, has been reforged. Although I don’t understand Farsi, nor have I cultivated any traditional customs, the felt sense of connection with the Iranian community - and with those who fight for their freedoms in a broader context - has been pronounced. In effect, my presence and documentation of these ongoing rallying cries has both been welcomed and appreciated, and for that I am grateful.
Over the course of the last two months, representatives from the Iranian community have taken turns proclaiming their contempt for the Iranian government. When addressing the crowd, they have interchanged their dialogue between Farsi and English, ensuring that all protestors, whether of Iranian or American descent, received the same attention and clarity amid the call for change.
Upon initial observations, I heard the words “Women. Life. Freedom.” or “Jjin Jiyan Azadî” chanted and echoed feverishly. I soon learned that these words would become the ubiquitously chanted and brandished slogan for protests in support of the unfolding revolution. These words are said to have originated in Turkey from the women’s branch of the predominantly Kurdish political group, HDP (Halkların Demokratik Partisi, or People’s Democratic Party), in 2014. The statement propels an overarching sentiment that emphasizes women’s emancipation from an authoritarian patriarchal system.
The song, Baraye (“For” or “Because of”), recorded by the Iranian artist, Shervin Hajipur, has become a global anthem fueling the protests to greater heights. The lyrics are an amalgamation of Twitter contributions from Iranians expressing their opposition to the government and vehement support of Iran’s revolution. The song, in melodic, poetic nature, conveys the inherent sentiments felt by the masses, particularly women, who have been subjugated and oppressed under the current regime. It has been used to underpin transition, prayer and silence during the protests for those lost, and for those continuing to fight for their freedom.
I have made a point during each protest to weave my way in and out of the crowds, through the sea of colorfully brandished signs that place further emphasis on the cries for change. To be fully immersed in the enveloping energy is to embrace the importance and impact of concerted collective support. The sounds of the sobs and the sights of the tears of women have been devastating to hear and to witness. I have routinely observed arms grasping and clenching one another in attempts to bear the mourning of Iran’s situation. At the time of this writing, over 500 Iranian residents have been killed at the hands of Iran’s morality police, many of whom include children and adolescents. This number is assumed to be much higher. Thousands more have been arrested, and it is being reported that many of those incarcerated are facing death sentences for mere participation in the demonstrations.
There has been a steady stream of performances at each of the gatherings I've attended, which serve to further articulate the plight of Iran through dance, poetry, song, and staged reenactments of what is presently transpiring in the country. These expressions are striking and difficult to stomach. Fake blood coating the palms of dancers, red-stained clothes worn by children as young as six or seven years old. I’ve had discussions with protestors who feel that these portrayals are too excessive, yet there are others who seem to agree with the necessity of viscerally exposing the true nature of the situation, even if it involves the participation of small, innocent children.
During these gatherings I’ve met many allies in the community, some representing different groups with different overarching goals, yet all bound together in solidarity in the fight for women’s liberation. One protestor I’ve met and befriended, Arash Seyfian, is a member of a newfound organization known as Voice of Iran. The group represents concerned Iranian American citizens who had unofficially banded together to collaborate and plan weekly protests in Washington State.
“In the past, when we had protests, people tended to divide within the first several weeks,” said Seyfian. “Now, there is no stopping in sight. It’s getting bigger and bigger and moving in the right direction.” Since banding together in the first week after Amini was killed, Voice of Iran, along with other makeshift organizations, have collaborated and accrued resources to ensure continued momentum, serving as reflection to the daily efforts transpiring throughout Iran.
As I continue to capture the atmosphere of these movements through the camera lens, I continue to ponder the underlying, idyllic visions of those in attendance. What magnitude of paradigm shift needs to transpire if the people of Iran are to see a better future? “In the end, this is a revolution. It’s a change of the whole system of governance,” said Seyfian. “We want a democratic, secular government that is separate from religion. Religion needs to return to people’s hearts and houses.”
Although such a sentiment demands multitudes of complex discourse and planning, the simple fact of the matter is that innocent lives, particularly those of women, have been abused and lost in the harshest and most demeaning of circumstances. The collective atmosphere in expansive defiance of the Islamic Republic, in turn, has been sweeping, and Seyfian’s words stamp a testament of the depth of disdain that has been cultivated since the Islamic Republic seized power in 1979.
According to Seyfian, the use of extreme force toward protesters is a sign that the Iranian government's efforts are desperate and futile. In another recent development, the UN Body approved a resolution that targets the government’s human rights violations, further backing Iranian officials into a corner. “There’s no way to go back. They’ve blown up the bridge,” said Seyfian. “The paper signed for human right action is really helpful for the future of these movements. You put all those puzzles together and you can feel how close they are to the end.”
What has been perhaps most alarming throughout these demonstrations has been the sheer lack of media reporting. Of the seven (and counting) protests I have attended thus far, there has been no local nor mainstream coverage of these gatherings. According to Seyfian, there are potentially more nefarious reasons why. “There is something going on, and someone is probably misleading the media companies,'' says Seyfian. The lobbyist groups for the Iranian government have big connections in our state and may be dissuading the outlets in various ways to provide coverage.” This is something I had never thought to consider. Iranian lobbyist groups having this much sway on local and mainstream media outlets? Considering the media blackout I’ve observed thus far, I must contend that anything is possible.
Over the last six months, I began working with a local media company based out of South Seattle, known as Converge Media. The organization has been documenting, inspiring and propelling change in Seattle’s marginalized south-end communities and rose to even greater prominence during their award winning on-the-ground reporting of the George Floyd protests. It has been refreshing, to say the least, to observe their continued support and coverage of Iranian-led protest efforts in Seattle. The coverage of this movement, after all, exemplifies the famous Martin Luther King Jr. quote, “A threat to justice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”
There is a tragic nature to the tides of revolution, in that the voices of those with most to lose tend to be the ones who are the most suppressed and demanding of our attention. We must rely, then, on unsuspecting avenues that bring a necessitous light to the plight of the people, near and far. The 2022 FIFA World Cup drew an invaluable light on Iran’s situation, where fans waved signs and chanted “Women. Life. Freedom.” live on camera in the stands. Team Iran’s coach and players were pressed by Iranian journalists to provide their opinions about the country’s social upheaval. There were numerous reports of pro-government fans violently clashing with pro-revolution supporters outside of the stadium. Such broadcasted developments may not completely overshadow the intended purpose of entertainment, but they do plant the tragic, biting seed of awareness that inevitably ripples throughout the globe.
At times, the percolating effects of Iran’s situation leaves me disheartened. Yet it is these very depths of sentiments that also serve as the necessary force for continued participation and unity, and to the overarching call for change. The progress may seem subtle, if not invisible, but as I reflect on the images I have captured thus far, this is, undoubtedly, an energy that cannot go ignored regardless of a puzzling absence of media coverage. It’s an unfolding story representative of our greatest fears and of our greatest potentials. And for this reason alone, the fight will not cease until the Iranian people reclaim what is irrefutably theirs: restored hope for a better tomorrow.
