Mehrin Ebrahimi

Living in Tehran, Iran, means navigating a labyrinth of restrictions and dangers, especially as a woman. The rules dictating our behavior in public are suffocating, and not adhering to them places us at great risk. Two years ago, a close friend of mine was beaten by the morality police because a few strands of her hair slipped out from under her hijab. She was taken to the police station and never came back. The injuries she sustained were fatal.

Her death sparked mass demonstrations, a roar of dissent that was met with brutal crackdowns. Since then, I have made a choice: I no longer wear the hijab. At 23, I've embraced this act of defiance fully aware of the peril it brings. Threats are a part of my daily existence. Surveillance cameras capture our faces, and threatening text messages follow.

The danger extends to my family. My brothers are activists, constantly under the shadow of arrests and violent assaults. Our home is a place of constant tension, with the threat of imprisonment looming over us. The decision to leave Iran secretly is no longer just an option but a necessity for our survival.

It's a deep sadness, mixed with fierce anger, that fuels my resolve. The oppression of women and minorities in our country is a heavy burden, but it is one I am determined to fight against. If that means my family and I must flee, then so be it. We deserve to live freely, without fear. This struggle is for our dignity, our rights, and the hope that one day, we can return to a country that respects us as equals.