Biography of Anarchist Fighters of Iran’s Geography (No. 6)

I was born in 2001. I still smell my mother whenever I see fire. My sister and I were both six years old when my mother, due to my father’s endless beatings and accusations, poured gasoline on herself. By the time the neighbors reached her, there was nothing left of my mother. My father didn’t reflect and back off at all. He used to punch and kick us so much that one of my sister’s hands was completely disabled. We were nine years old when my father fell into a coma in an accident while working in a machine shop and then passed away.

Taking care of my sister and her education required me to grow up immediately. I worked, peddled, cleaned people’s houses, heard accusations, and got injured, but still, I could not create an independent life for myself and my sister. When my sister’s forced marriage by my uncle happened, my attention was drawn to the root of the common pain of all women and oppressed people.

I was working and, at the same time, started my fight against dictatorship, the dominant social order, and the corrupt police by making graffiti and sharing it. I was raped in a Basij detention center. I was humiliated but more determined than before to look for a way to fight. This anger should be tied to freedom. When I met an anarchist friend through some friends, I realized that this is the safe place and the house and family to which I belong.

Persevering and fighting is not just a form of life, but life itself. I will not give in to the rampant corruption. We have made a promise to our comrades, which is a message to the whole world. You have to stand with all your strength before the outwardly strong powers. They are afraid of your perseverance, solidarity, passion, and fighting. They don’t want to see free and fighting women. We anarchists are like a thorn in their eyes.

Victory is ours. Long live all comrades anywhere in the world.

The list of main pages:
https://linktr.ee/asranarshism

Support us in our struggle:

Donation