Iranian youth in the Green Movement

Category: International

After a while I started to understand the relevance of each slogan to the situation. For instance, if we were marching past a television camera, the people would chant, “Our shame, our disgrace, our state media,” or “How much have you been paid to [lose your honor and] hold that camera?” Or they dared the Islamic Republic’s Broadcasting to air the footage of the demonstration. When passing a member of Basij, half of the demonstrators asked, “Where has the oil money gone?” and the other half replied, “It’s spent on Basijis,” and so on.

Of course the most radical and hateful slogans were chanted against Ahmadinejad and the Supreme Leader. The demonstrators clearly held the latter responsible for the bloodshed and the rapes. Imagine hundreds of thousands of people stamping their feet and shouting, “Murder, rape, down with this leadership.”

It was at the height of moments like this that I would become suddenly aware of where I was. The city of Qom. The Greens had invaded the enemy’s fort and were now making the old structure of the city tremble. The thought of it gave me goosebumps but I didn’t have much time to reflect. As soon as the burial ended, the Basijis started shoving and pulling. People tried running, which increased the possibility of stampedes. We found our way back to the bus with a great sense of accomplishment.

December 27, 2009
The Greens had already planned a demonstration in the streets on Ashura, but Montazeri’s death exactly a week before the Shiite day of mourning set the stage for an even greater and more passionate turnout.

The government threatened to use force against anyone who would turn Ashura into a political protest. But those threats don’t scare the young Greens anymore. It’s not as if there is any kind of violence that the anti-riots and the Basij haven’t used against the protesters yet. The common attitude among the youth is, “What will they do? Kill us? Haven’t they already?”

Going to a protest has a ritual. You have to wear something that doesn’t stand out. You should wear shoes that are comfortable to run in but not sneakers that may mark you as someone who plans to run a lot. I was also told to leave all identification at home. Many people wear disposable sanitary masks while others opt for large sunglasses to cover their faces so they can’t be recognized in the pictures.

My friend and I were both slightly hesitant about going to the protest on Ashura. We knew it would turn ugly, but on the other hand, we couldn’t not go. Someone has got to go and if it isn’t us, then who is it?

We wanted to take the subway from midtown to downtown but my parents offered us a ride instead. Later we heard that the Basij had attacked some young people in the subway and broken a friend of my friend’s arm. It was still early for a holiday morning and the streets were eerily quiet. All the major squares and crossroads were surrounded by anti-riot guards and police vans.

Ordinary people walking on the sidewalks gave each other meaningful looks as they walked past each other. Sometimes, if the other party looked trusty enough, they would whisper, “Don’t go that way. I just saw them beat up a girl on that block.” The sense of urgency, the absence of a shelter or a safe haven to run to, and the smell of trouble trigger your primal instinct to run for your life. But then you remember why you’re where you are.

For almost two hours, a group of us walked from one side of the downtown area to the other side, occasionally hearing chants or seeing smoke. The major intersections were heavily guarded and the Basijis rode up and down the streets on their motorcycles, making a lot of noise and intimidating the people on the sidewalks with their batons. To find our way to the other protesters we took back alleys and narrow streets, and not having lived in Tehran for the past nine years, I was completely disoriented and clueless.

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